by Mike Faricy
“I better go back inside and tell Aaron. He’ll love this story.”
We hurried back inside, waited a few minutes until Aaron was done talking to one of the officers. When they finished, he looked at me and said, “I thought you two left.”
“We did, but we found the getaway car.”
“What?”
“In the parking lot, I’ll show you. Taylor, tell him the story.”
Taylor told Aaron about Lyle kicking in the door to their unit and Eli throwing the pan of hot chili in his face, hitting him with the pan, and grabbing Lyle’s car keys. I told him about my phone conversation with Lyle and his description of the license plate. At this point, we were standing in front of the car looking at the license plate.
Aaron stood there, shaking his head. “Can this get any crazier? The guy slips on a half-eaten candy bar, shoots himself in the foot, and now this is his getaway car. I’m wondering if that means his partner is still on foot?”
“The way things are going, he’s probably still wearing his clown mask.”
Chapter 45
When we finally got home, Taylor hurried upstairs and began to work on the logo for Dennis’s pals. I got a call from Barbara and gave her an update on the day’s activities.
“Is Taylor all right?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. Right now, he’s upstairs working on a logo for some guys business. I guess the guy is going to stop over tonight and look at whatever he comes up with.”
“My God, Dev, someone attempting to steal an ATM in the middle of the night. A bank robber shoots himself in the foot this afternoon. I guess life is never dull if you’re around.”
“To be honest, a few dull days would be just fine with me.”
“How’s the nose? Are you healing?”
“Yeah, slow but sure. The black and blue isn’t quite as bad as forty-eight hours ago. A few more days and I should be pretty much back to normal.”
“Whatever that is in your world,” she said. “Do you think you’ll be able to join us next week in detention?”
“I’m counting on it. The swelling is pretty much gone, and the black and blue is slowly but surely beginning to fade.”
“Honest to God, Dev, it all seems so crazy.” She more or less finished on that note and hung up.
I heated up some stew and called Taylor downstairs. It was getting close to 8:00, and after twenty minutes, I filled a bowl and brought it up to him. He was at the desk working on the logo for Dennis’ friend. There were four different versions sketched out in colored pencil on the desk.
“Hey, Taylor. That guy is going to be here in a few minutes. You better wolf down this stew.” I looked at the images he’d sketched out. “This guy’s business is called Alley Katz? What is it, some new bar?”
“No, Dev, it’s—” Suddenly, someone pounded on the front door. “Oh man, that must be him,” Taylor said. He gathered up the sketches and flew out of the room. I was right behind him. There was more heavy pounding on the front door as we rushed down the stairs.
“Tell that guy to take it easy on my front door,” I said as Taylor hurried over to the door and opened it. He suddenly flew back and landed on the floor. A second later, Tubby’s thug, Lyle, stepped into the entry, followed by two other goons.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get your worthless ass—” I was suddenly on the floor next to Taylor.
“Shut up, Haskell. Get them up off the floor,” Lyle shouted, and the two goons grabbed hold of our shirts and yanked us up. “Bring them into the back of the house,” Lyle said, and they pushed us back toward the kitchen. Morton scurried past and headed upstairs.
Taylor clutched his sketches and hurried ahead of me.
“Lyle,” I said. “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?”
“Where’s my car for starters, and then I want the money you stole from that bank.”
“Stole from the bank? What are you talking about?”
“I got it on good authority you two were there while punk ass’s uncle robbed the place. I want your half.”
“Our half? Are you crazy? We didn’t take any money. Eli Cummings shot himself in the foot, and his partner ran—”
“Cut the bullshit, Haskell. They drove my car there and—”
“Yeah, and the police took it down to the impound lot. We don’t have it. We don’t have any money. And we don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.”
“So, you’re calling me a liar,” Lyle shouted and then glanced nervously at the two goons.
“I’m telling you we don’t have any money. We don’t have your damn car. And we don’t—”
Lyle grabbed me by the shirt. Taylor grabbed the boiling stew pot off the stove and poured the contents over Lyle’s head. He wound up, slammed the pan into Lyle’s forehead, and Lyle dropped to the floor.
“You’re going to get your assed kicked, kid,” the larger of the goons growled.
“Is there a problem here?” a voice said from behind. The goons turned to face four very large guys with shaved heads and long beards. They wore black leather vests, exposing muscular arms and lots of ink.
“You’re Taylor, right? You okay?” one of the guys asked.
Taylor nodded and set the empty pan back on the stove.
Lyle groaned and began to move his head back and forth. The largest of the four in the black leather vests stepped over and bent down next to Lyle. He pulled Lyle’s shirt from his belt and used it to wipe some of the stew from his face.
“I recognize you. You’re that worthless Lyle bitch. You drive that pain-in-the-ass red car with the racing stripes, don’t you?”
Lyle groaned, and his eyes fluttered open.
“That’s what we’re looking for. We think these two got Lyle’s car,” one of the goons said and stepped back, putting some distance between him and the leather vests.
“I already told you. The cops took the car. It’s down in the impound lot,” I said.
The guy in the vest stood and said, “Sounds to me like you got your answer. Might be wise to pick up this piece of shit,” he said, placing a large black boot on top of Lyle’s righthand. “He could get hurt just lying on the floor,” he said as he ground the hand back and forth beneath his boot. Lyle groaned and rolled to his side in an attempt to pull his hand out from beneath the boot. We could actually hear the bones in his hand breaking. The same hand that had been caught in the rat trap in my file drawer the week before.
The two goons stood wide-eyed, not sure what to do.
Eventually, the guy lifted his boot, and Lyle rolled onto his back holding his right wrist and whimpering.
“You best get him out of here and don’t plan on coming back, ever. We hear you even drove past this place, we’re going to come looking for you. Now get your ass out of here.”
The goons quickly picked Lyle up off the floor and headed for the front door. The other three guys in vests followed them out.
“So, you’re Taylor. My pals call me Doc,” the guy said and held out a hand to Taylor. They shook, and the guy looked over at me. “You must be Hassle,” he said and nodded but didn’t extend a hand.
“Yeah, very nice to meet you. Good timing. Are you a doctor?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I can’t abide violence. Name is short for Doctor Death,” he said but didn’t go into any detail. I didn’t see any point in commenting.
“Really liked the work you did down at Inkredible. Our pal Dennis spoke very highly of you.”
“Thanks,” Taylor said. “I enjoyed doing the work for him. He was very nice.”
“Yeah, and a hell of an artist, which is why we’re here,” he said as the three other guys strolled back into the kitchen.
“They’re gone. Doubt they’ll be back,” one of them said.
“You got a drawing to show us?” Doctor Death asked.
“Yeah. Actually, I worked on five of them. Feel free to suggest or change anything you don’t like. I tried to include everything y
ou told me over the phone,” Taylor said. He laid out five different sheets, each with a different drawing. All emblazoned with the name Alley Katz. The designs had a large image of different looking cats some vicious some almost cartoon like.
“Oh, my God. These are fantastic. You digging these?” he said to the three guys standing behind him.
“Each one’s better than the next,” one of them said.
“Fantastic,” another said.
“Would it be all right if I took these and showed them to our members? I could have them back to you in a day or so.”
“That would be fine. Take your time,” Taylor said.
“I can give you a partial payment now if you’d like.”
“No worries. We can settle up once you’ve made a decision. Just give me a call whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks, Taylor. Dennis wasn’t kidding. You’re great.” Doctor Death held out a fist the size of a ten-pound ham, they butted fists, and we all walked toward the front door.
I wasn’t sure if we’d see Lyle and his two goons. Fortunately, they were nowhere in sight. “Thanks again, Taylor,” Doctor Death called and waved as they headed down the porch steps. He slid the sketches into a saddlebag hanging over the rear wheel on one of the four Harleys parked on the street. They climbed onto the bikes, fired them up, and headed down the street.
“What a day,” I said.
“You’re telling me. They’re going to pay me two hundred bucks for that logo.”
“Actually, I was referring to the bank robbery, nutcase Lyle, and now the Alley Katz motorcycle club.”
“Yeah, they were nice guys.”
“Well, their timing was perfect. I’m going to clean up that stew on the kitchen floor. Good move, by the way.”
“Yeah, I didn’t like that Lyle guy. As soon as I saw him, I recognized him. He’s the guy my uncle threw the chili on and hit over the head with the pan.”
“I don’t think anyone likes Lyle, Taylor.”
When I wasn’t sipping a glass of wine, I was mopping up the kitchen floor. Taylor was drowning his troubles in a bottle of root beer and finishing up a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Hey, Dev, sorry I wasted the stew on that loser, Lyle.”
“You’re not going to hear a complaint from me. That jerk had it coming.”
Once I had the kitchen back to normal and Taylor’s plate in the dishwasher, we settled in front of the TV and watched a movie on Netflix that I’d seen before. We were both in bed at eleven.
Chapter 46
Thankfully, we had a quiet weekend. Annette came over for dinner on Saturday night. She and Taylor talked art for close to four hours, and I pretended to follow the conversation. Taylor worked on his paper all day Sunday.
Monday morning, we were just getting ready to head out to the car when we heard a loud rumble outside. “Now what?” I said and hurried to the front door.
There must have been two dozen guys on Harleys in the process of backing them up against the street curb in front of the house. We opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch. Doctor Death had just climbed off his bike, and he gave a wave. Taylor waved back as the mob followed Doctor Death up the front sidewalk and stopped at the porch.
“You decide which design you want?” Taylor asked.
Doctor Death nodded and said, “Yeah, we chose one, but we’d like to hang on to all five of the samples. Be nice to have ‘em framed and hanging in the clubhouse.”
“Sure thing, I’d be honored,” Taylor said.
“Well, I got your money right here,” Doctor said as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a roll of twenty dollar bills with a rubber band around them and tossed it up to Taylor. “Little something extra in there. Payment for the other four designs.”
“Oh, man thanks. Much appreciated,” Taylor said.
“You busy tonight?” Doctor asked.
“You kidding? It’s Monday night. I don’t have anything going.”
“Good, then you’ll have time to come over to our clubhouse and be made an honorary member. Long as that’s okay with you, Hassle,” he said.
“It’s up to Taylor. Whatever he decides.”
“Oh, that would be so cool. What time do you want me there?”
“Say 8:00, be nice if you dressed in black. A note with the address is in with your payment.”
“We’ll be there,” I said.
They climbed back on their bikes, fired them up, and headed down the street.
“Taylor, I don’t know man. You seem to be leading a charmed life. Let’s get you to school. I’ll pick you up after school, and we can maybe get you a proper shirt for tonight. You can wear your black jeans.
He was all smiles when I dropped him off. I noticed two guys said hi to him as he headed in the door, and a girl waved. Things seemed to be getting better.
I was waiting for Taylor in the school parking lot when the doors opened and kids started walking out. A couple of guys gave a second look at my car, and I wondered if one of them might have been the guy who spray painted ‘OINK’ on the side. Taylor came out the door about five minutes later and headed for the car.
He yelled something to a group. They laughed, and one of them yelled something back. He climbed in, and we headed out of the parking lot.
“How’d the day go?” I asked.
“It was pretty good. A couple guys invited me to sit with them at lunch. It was the first time I didn’t have to eat alone.”
“That’s good. You tell them about tonight?”
“About being made an honorary member of Alley Katz? No. I was afraid they’d think I was lying, so I didn’t mention it.”
“Probably a good idea. I’ve got a thought about a shirt. Let me take you to a store. If you don’t like what they have we can head out to the mall and grab something.”
Fifteen minutes later we pulled in front of a white building with orange trim, the Harley Davidson store.
“We’re buying a motorcycle?” Taylor asked.
“No, but they’ve got all sorts of t-shirts that would be perfect to wear tonight. No pressure.”
He seemed to think about that for a nanosecond then grinned and said, “This’ll be great.”
If we looked at one, we must have looked at fifty different t-shirts. At the end of the day, Taylor settled on the second shirt he looked at. A black t-shirt with an orange Harley Davidson logo in the front. Rather than put it in a bag, he wore it out of the store.
We went home, and Taylor took Morton for a walk while I got dinner ready. By the time they were back, I was ready to dish up our meal. Taylor was too excited to eat much, so I finished his portion. We headed over to the Alley Katz clubhouse and arrived maybe five minutes early. The parking lot was full of Harleys and we had to park out on the street.
The clubhouse was a one-story white-stucco structure with a red neon sign on the roof that read ALLEY KATZ CLUBHOUSE. The sign flashed off and on. I found it interesting that there were nice flowers planted along the front of the building.
I held the door for Taylor, and we walked into a sea of black leather. All shapes and sizes, both men and women were jammed into the place. We turned a few heads as we entered.
A guy stepped out of the crowd. I recognized him from the other night at my place. He shook hands with Taylor and gave me a friendly nod. “Follow me. Doctor Death and the crew are in a back room.”
We made our way through the crowd. Taylor got a couple of pats on the back from guys and someone pinched my butt. We walked through a door marked ‘PRIVATE’ and entered a room with Doctor Death and five other guys sitting around a table. Everyone had a file opened in front of them, and clearly, a meeting was going on.
Doctor Death looked up as we entered the room and said, “Ahh, Taylor, perfect, right on time.” Apparently, that was the sign to close the files in front of them. Everyone stood and came over and introduced themselves. Taylor got a fist bump from everyone, and I got a couple of nods.
“Have th
em get ready out there,” Doctor Death said to one of the guys who immediately headed out to the main room. They chatted some more with Taylor and ignored me. The entire time, the smile never left Taylor’s face.
After maybe fifteen minutes, the guy popped his head in the room and gave the thumbs-up. “Okay, looks like they’re ready out there. Let’s suit up,” Doctor Death said. He walked over to a closet, opened the door, and began handing out what looked like judges robes. They slipped them on and lined up at the door. Doctor Death was at the front of the line, and he signaled Taylor to join him. “Hassle, follow us out at a distance. This is gonna be all about Taylor.”
I smiled and gave Taylor the thumbs-up.
Doctor Death opened the door, and they stepped into the main room. The lights were off, and everyone held a lit candle. It was quiet as they walked through the crowd toward the front of the room. The guys from the meeting formed a half-circle and had Taylor face them. The crowd inched forward. I stood in the back.
Doctor Death looked around the room and said, “I want to thank you all for being here tonight. We’re honored to welcome a talented young man, Taylor Cummings, into our fold. Taylor, you may not know this, but take a look around. You’re in a room full of misfits. We’re the oddballs. We were the kids no one wanted to be with. The girls no one called for a date. The guys who didn’t have friends. We were the kids who sat alone on the bus. We were alone at lunch. We’re the kids everyone laughed at and scorned, the Alley Katz. They did that because, in our own way, each and everyone of us had a talent that no one could compete with. You’ve blessed us with your talent.”
“Biggy?” he called, and suddenly the crowd separated, and five guys walked in holding picture frames with Taylor’s sketches of the Alley Katz logos. The guy named Biggy looked about a foot shorter than Taylor. Dennis Richardson was carrying one of the frames, and he nodded and winked at Taylor.
“These images will be mounted on the wall here for everyone to see. They’ll remind us what we can accomplish if we just put our mind to it. With this, we make you an honorary member. You’re welcome here anytime. If you ever have a problem, no matter what, we will be here to help you. It’s what we do.”
