Page 57 of Tito

We exchanged glances with one another as we ate, smiling the entire time. I fully realized Reggie wasn’t my girlfriend, by any means, but she was as close to a girlfriend as I’d had since high school.

I hoped my future with her was long-lived, and without the problems that many of the men in the club had had in the past.

As we finished our food, the sound of my phone ringing caught my attention.

Reggie looked up. “Do you need to get that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It can wait.”

“How do you know it can wait?”

“It’s someone I don’t want to talk to.”

“Your other girlfriend.” Her face washed with an embarrassed look. “I’m not saying that I’m your—”

“I know what you’re saying, and no is the answer. It’s one of the guys in the club.”

“How do you know?”

“Ring tone,” I responded. “They each have a special ring tone.”

“Five different ring tones?”

“Yeah.”

“And that particular guy doesn’t have a Sunday morning emergency?”

It was Cash. He might have thought he had an emergency, but I doubted it was anything that required my undivided attention. It certainly wasn’t more important than what was in front of me.

I pierced my last piece of ham with the tines of my fork. “I’ll call him back when we’re done.”

She stood. “I’ll get the dishes. See what he wants. Last thing I need is your friends mad at me because I’m keeping you from your routine. Eventually it’ll probably come to that, but right now it’s a bit early.” She grinned. “Go call your friend.”

I finished my ham, handed her my plate, and went to the bedroom. A voicemail message from Cash was waiting for me to listen to it. I pressed play and raised the phone to my ear.

Hey midget, this is Cash. I know why you’re all fucked up in the head about the hat. The chick with the spikey hair that offed herself. Drop that shit, brother, you two weren’t even banging. Get over it and get your shit together. We need to get this job figured out, and you’re the hold up. Pull your head out of your ass and do your fucking job.

I erased the message and tossed the phone on the bed. I stared at it, recalling the many instances Cash and I had opposed to one another.

I wondered if I could maintain my position in the club and have a heathy relationship with Reggie—or anyone for that matter. Committing crimes and stealing from federally funded institutions was going to end one day. It had to. If we didn’t end it ourselves, it would end at the hands of the law.

“Are you okay?” Reggie asked from behind me.

I faced her and forced a crooked smile. “Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

“He needed help with something.”

“Are you going to help him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I walked up to her and gave her a kiss. “Because,” I said. “I’m busy focusing on other things.”

“Is he going to get mad?”

“He stays mad,” I responded. “It’s the only mood he knows.”

“This guy’s a friend of yours?”

“He used to be,” I said. “Not so much anymore.”

It seemed strange admitting it, but it was true. In recent years, I felt anxious every time I was in Cash’s presence. Everyone did. What mistakes were made on our jobs were typically made by Cash. Those mistakes often came close to costing us our freedom. If it wasn’t for the rest of the members hustling to fix his fuckups, we’d undoubtedly all be in jail or dead.

She made a funny face and dropped her gaze to the floor. After a moment, she looked up. “People like that suck the life out of everyone around them.”

“Yeah,” I said. “They sure do.”