by Harley Stone
Flint homed in on the plate in my hand before smiling at Shari. “Ah. You made breakfast again. I swear, woman, you’re a fuckin’ angel. Don’t know what we’d do around here without you.”
“It’s nice to have someone to cook for,” she said to me as we sat. “Especially since they all appreciate it. And ‘fuckin’ angel’ is accurate. When my time on this earth is up, I want that on my tombstone.”
‘Stood Up’ should probably be on mine. Ugh. I hated the way my thoughts kept spiraling, but I was powerless to stop them. I thought we’d shared a connection, and I felt so stupid for misreading the situation. My stomach felt like it had been tied in knots, but I knew I needed to eat something, so I forced down a bite.
“You can’t die yet, babe. We still got a lot of use for you. And hell yeah, we appreciate you.” Flint turned his smile on me as he stood. “I was skin and bones before Shari here started cooking for us.” He circled the table and kissed the top of her head before grabbing at his barely noticeable belly. “Now look at this thing. She gave the ladies something to grab onto.”
“You were too thin; now you’re healthy. Besides, I like having something to grab onto when I’m riding you.” Her hand snaked up his thigh before palming the bulge between his legs.
Shocked to see such an openly sexual act, I returned my gaze to my plate, trying not to watch them out of my peripheral.
“After breakfast. Your lips. My cock,” Flint said.
“Better eat fast, sugar. I gotta leave for work in a half hour.”
He considered her for a moment before throwing his hands up. “Fuck it, I can eat later.”
Everyone else watched and cheered as Flint grabbed Shari by the waist. He hoisted her into the air, and she wrapped her legs around him, planting her big fake breasts right in his face. He motorboated her exposed cleavage and she squealed and laughed, sounding young and carefree. He squeezed her ass and he carried her out of the room while the guys seated around the table continued eating like nothing unusual had happened.
Apparently, this was the norm around here.
Slightly uncomfortable, and embarrassingly warm between my legs, I hurried and ate my breakfast while avoiding eye contact and trying to figure this place out. Spade had given me an incredible orgasm before he disappeared. Shari was a club whore who seemed perfectly happy with her status. The bikers shared her and didn’t mind watching her groping one of them. I couldn’t help but wonder how many times Spade had slept with her.
“I fuck ’em, but I sure as hell don’t sleep in their beds.”
I’d asked Spade for a one-night stand, and he’d agreed. He was probably relieved I only wanted sex since that seemed to be how things worked around here.
But why did he promise me he’d come back?
Thinking about Spade made my chest ache and my head spin. He was just supposed to be a one-night stand. I wasn’t supposed to be this effected by his absence.
“One night, babe. Don’t shortchange me.”
Only he’d been the one to shortchange me. Why? Was he disappointed in my body? Was my butt too big or my waist not narrow enough? Did the few stretchmarks on my boobs turn him off? Had I been too eager? Should I have played hard-to-get?
Why did he lie to me?
Since I had no answers or appetite left, I dumped the rest of my breakfast, put my cup and plate in the dishwasher and headed to work, determined to scrub the ‘Latino Lover” who’d abandoned me from my mind.
Spade
Twelve hours ago
AN EMO GIRL with bright purple pigtails, wearing a black bustier with painful-looking silver spikes sticking out of it sat behind the counter, watching me as I drifted through the small sex toy shop making my selections. There were so many options—so many things I wanted to try with Jessica—but I needed to start off slowly. It was clear she was as new to all of this as I was. “Apprehensive but curious,” she’d said, earning a smile from me.
I could work with curious.
Hell, just thinking about her curiosity made me hard again. I still couldn’t believe she’d shown up in my room wearing nothing but a nighty and a pair of heels under that coat. It was like she’d tapped into every single one of my fantasies and was using them to bring me to my knees. Now it was time for me to do the same for her. Adjusting myself, I put two sets of soft leather handcuffs in my basket. A blindfold and a flogger followed. Then I carried it all up to the counter and pulled out my wallet.
“Need anything else? Lube? Condoms?” the cashier asked, accentuating each syllable with a pucker of her lips that was probably meant to be seductive. Since I was in a hurry to get back to Jessica, I found it annoying as hell.
“No, ma’am.”
She seemed disappointed in my lack of flirting as she bagged up my purchases and ran my debit card. She gave me one last look beneath dark, fake eyelashes before handing over my bag and turning her attention to the next customer.
I carried everything out to my bike and stashed it all in the saddle bags. As I swung my leg over my seat, my cell phone rang. Since the shopping trip had already taken longer than I wanted, I considered ignoring it so I could hurry and get my ass back to Jessica. But, like usual, the sense of responsibility my parents had beat into me had me fishing out my phone and looking at the display. My great uncle Jaime was calling. Surprised and a little worried, I answered.
“Tonio.” Uncle Jaime’s voice sounded gruff, tired, off.
“Hey, Tio. What’s going on?” My grandfather’s brother didn’t make social calls. Hell, he rarely called anyone at all, preferring to hole up in some senior living apartment complex three hours south of the rest of the family. The only reason he even had a phone was because I bought him a cell, added him to my plan, and told him I’d staple the damn thing to his hand if I called and he didn’t answer. My parents would have lost their shit if they heard me talking to an elder like that, but Uncle Jaime and I had an unusual relationship. He acted like a crotchety old man who valued his privacy and independence above all, but I saw through his bullshit to the caring, giving man he kept hidden from the world.
He was a good man, and I intended to keep him breathing for as long as possible.
“It’s my stomach. It’s been hurtin’ like a motherfucker for a couple hours, but now the pain’s sharp and I can’t keep anything down.”
Uncle Jaime was tough—I’d never known him to complain about a single ache or pain—but I could hear the suffering in his voice. This was a man Mom harped on about going to the doctor for checkups. She claimed he was made of plexiglass and old leather, unbreakable and reeking like a worn dead carcass. He wouldn’t be reaching out to me if shit wasn’t serious. “That sounds bad. I’m gonna call an ambulance to take you to the hospital and get you checked out.”
“No. Those goddamn ambulance rides cost an arm and a leg, and I don’t have any body parts to spare.” He was trying to make light of the situation, but I heard the fear in his tone. Not much scared my uncle, but he was spooked.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes against the worry I felt building. “You need a doctor.”
“I know.” His breathing sounded labored. “No ambulance.”
Mom also called Uncle Jaime stubborn as a blood stain. If he was dead set on not taking an ambulance, the paramedics would have one hell of a time getting him loaded into one. Chances were, it would only complicate his condition and make matters worse. Throwing my head back, I stared at the sky and wondered if I was making a big mistake. Regardless of how much I called him out on his bullshit, it had been ingrained in me to respect my elders. I wouldn’t piss him off by ordering an ambulance he didn’t want and screwing him over financially. “Fine. I’m heading down now. I’ll be there as soon as possible. You better not die, old man.”
He snorted. “I’m old. I’ll die when I want.”
Not the reassurance I was looking for, but he wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows. The call disconnected. I shoved my phone back in my pocket, put on my
helmet, threw out a quick Hail Mary, and started my bike. Surprisingly enough, the finicky piece of shit roared to life on the first try. I took it as a good sign… as a sort of truce it was making until this crisis passed. Maybe in return, I wouldn’t junk it after I found a replacement.
For a split second, I considered calling my father, but it would be a waste of time and he wouldn’t be able to do shit from Seattle. I could get to Portland faster on a bike than he could in a company truck, so I headed south like my ass was on fire.
While my bike ate up the miles, I thought about all the stories Uncle Jaime had shared with me over the years. Like me, he was the black sheep of the family. He and my grandfather grew up in the slums of Los Cabos where cartels battled over territory and aggressively recruited poor neighborhood kids. Grandpa and Uncle Jaime spent most of their childhood hiding from drug and gun dealers.
As teenagers, my grandfather worked and helped the family. Uncle Jaime set his sights on getting the hell out of the slums. By age eighteen, he’d taught himself enough English to make it over the California border and enlist in the US Army. Since he didn’t have the funds to immigrate the legal way, he decided to fight his way to freedom and show his allegiance through service. He fought in the Vietnam war, serving through most of the seventies.
“We faced the enemy, we lost friends, we saw shit nobody should ever see… We expected to come home as heroes. Do you know what I heard first when I got off the plane?” he told me.
I shook my head.
“Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today? That was what those goddamn draft dodgers chanted. A whole group of ’em, just waiting for us to arrive so they could spit at us and call us murderers. That’s what it was really like back then.”
When I was struggling to get out from under the shadow of my past and find my own place in the world, I was surprised when he suggested I follow in his shoes and enlist.
“It’s a different world now. You’re smarter than me, so they won’t put you in the trenches. They’ll test you and let you pick a job before you sign up, so play to your strengths. I have an old buddy whose grandson just enlisted as a carpentry and masonry specialist. Sounds right up your alley. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not easy and you might not survive. You’ll probably lose a friend or two, but you’ll get out from under your mom’s skirt and come out a goddamn man.”
At eighteen, I thought I was already a man, but I had limited options, even less money, and I was desperate for a taste of freedom from my family. I needed to figure out what to do with my life before I got swept up in my father’s dream for good. So, I took his advice and signed up to serve. When I got out, Uncle Jaime was waiting at the airport with a sign that read, “Welcome back, soldier. How the fuck does it feel to be a man?”
He was poking fun at me, but he understood my struggle all too well. The crotchety old bastard knew how to put shit into perspective and keep me from taking myself too seriously. He never married or fathered any children, but he was always there for me. After the service, he worked as a long-haul truck driver, spending his life roaming the country. He stopped in to see us every time he was in Seattle. He taught me how to fish, how to drive, and how to tie a tie. Most importantly, he taught me how to win at Spades, which turned out to be my saving grace in the military.
Two years ago, at the ripe old age of seventy-five, Uncle Jaime finally settled down in Portland. My family wanted him closer to Seattle, but he insisted that he was close enough for us to visit, and far enough away that we wouldn’t feel obligated to come bug him every day.
He’d always been one hard, independent old bastard, but he was concerned enough about his health to call me now for help. That worried the fuck out of me and kept me riding the throttle down I5.
The drive to Portland should have taken me almost three hours, but I made it in a little over two. Pulling up to Uncle Jaime’s apartment building, I killed the engine and used my code to slip inside the secure door before heading up to the third floor. Since I had a key, I let myself in.
The first thing to hit me was the stench. His apartment always smelled like old man, but today, there was more. It reeked like gym clothes, stale food, and ass. Closing the door behind me, I looked around, shocked to find such a mess. Dishes were piled high in the kitchen sink, stacks of laundry filled the hallway leading to the bedroom and the bathroom, and it looked like a bomb of magazines and books had gone off in the living room.
“Tio?” I asked.
“In here,” came his weak reply.
I followed his voice to find him on the recliner in the living room, doubled over and holding his belly. His complexion was pale and sweat beaded around his hairline.
“You don’t look too good.”
He snorted.
“What the hell happened in here? You piss off your cleaning lady?”
He grunted.
My uncle was known for his quick wit and snappy comebacks, and his lack of verbal response had me worried as hell. I hurried over to stand beside his chair, trying to figure out the best way to help him up without causing him more pain. He wasn’t a big man, but he wasn’t exactly small, either. At about five-eight and close to two-hundred pounds, it was going to take some effort to get him down the stairs.
Grunting and grabbing at his stomach, he leaned heavily on me as he stood. Draping one of his arms over my shoulders, I wrapped my arm around his waist. His head rolled to the side and landed against my shoulder. The heat of his fever burned through my T-shirt, feeling like a damn furnace. Knowing I had to get his ass to the hospital, I took on more of his weight, practically carrying him out of the apartment.
With each step, he gritted his teeth against the pain. His body was flimsy, almost boneless, and keeping him upright was a challenge. Limping and weaving, we passed the stairwell, opting instead for the elevator down the hall. By the time we reached it, we were both sweating and out of breath. Uncle Jaime looked like he was knocking on death’s door, making it clear time was of the essence.
I propped him against the wall of the elevator, hit the button for the ground floor, and pulled out my phone to schedule an uber. Thankfully, we got to the parking lot only seconds ahead of our ride. I somehow managed to get both of us in the back seat before he passed out.
“He’s not dead, is he?” the driver asked, watching Uncle Jaime in his rearview mirror.
“No. He’s gonna be fine.” Part of me didn’t believe it, but I was willing it to be true. “Just get us to the hospital as soon as you can.”
“Sure you shouldn’t call an ambulance?”
I buckled my uncle’s seatbelt and gave the driver a hard glare. “Get us to the fucking hospital. Please.”
The scrawny little punk swallowed and put the car into drive, peeling out as he exited the parking lot.
We pulled up to the emergency entrance, and the driver ran in to get help while I started dragging Uncle Jaime out of the car. I don’t know what the driver told the hospital staff, but nurses swarmed us. They loaded my uncle onto a stretcher and wheeled him inside as the admittance nurse thrust a clipboard of paperwork into my chest and guided me toward a seat in the waiting room. Surrounded by coughing patients and crying babies, I filled in the medical information as best I could before calling my parents to fill them in and get help.
“Will he be okay?” Mom asked, sounding worried.
“I don’t know. I’m waiting to hear from the doctor.”
“You should have called an ambulance, Tonio.”
Guilt gnawed at me. I’d already told her about Uncle Jaime’s call, but reminded her of the conversation. “He asked me not to.”
“He’s in pain. People don’t think straight when they’re hurting.”
“Leave him alone,” my father cut in. “What’s done is done. Nothing he can do about it now.”
“Well, Tio can’t stay down there. I don’t care how stubborn he is, he needs to be up here with family. You tell him that, Tonio. You make him see reason, get him all packe
d up, and bring him home. This is foolishness.”
I didn’t even know what was wrong with him and whether or not he’d make it through the night, but pointing that out wouldn’t do any good. “I will, Madre. I’ll bring him home.”
“Should I wake the kids so we can drive down there?” Mom asked.
“Nothing we can do,” my father replied. “Let’s wait until we hear what’s going on. Keep us posted, Tonio.”
He disconnected, leaving me alone with my worries. I’d done everything I could for the old man and the rest was up to him and the doctors. I knew Mom was right, and if my uncle died, I’d never forgive myself for not calling that fucking ambulance. I should have ignored his wishes and made the call anyway. His health was way worse off than I ever could have imagined.
What’s done is done.
Yes, it was, and now I’d have to live with the consequences. Hopefully Uncle Jaime would live with them, too.
Spade
“YOUR UNCLE’S APPENDIX ruptured, and he developed an abscess in his abdomen. It’s a good thing you brought him in when you did,” a greying doctor in a long white lab coat over khakis and sneakers told me. His nametag read J. Standen, MD, and his bushy salt and pepper eyebrows kept moving up and down his forehead, seemingly of their own accord, making it near impossible to concentrate on the important information he was delivering.
“Is that like appendicitis?” I asked. I’d heard the term before, had no idea what it meant, and I was trying to sound like I had a clue about what the hell was going on.
“Appendicitis is inflammation. Your uncle’s condition is more severe than that. When his appendix ruptured, it created a pocket of pus… an abscess… in his abdomen.” Dr. Standen pointed to his own belly. “And those harmful toxins have been sitting in there for hours. Immediate surgery was necessary to clean out the infection and keep Mr. Fernandez alive. After we wheeled him back, he came to long enough to sign the consent, so we were able to remove the damaged organ and clean out the abdominal cavity.”
