The sound of a shovel scraping concrete prompted Ellen to get up and look out the dining room window. She shook her head, not believing the apparition. Bent over, her shovel in his hands, Mason scooped a load of snow. JD appeared at the window, next to her. Pounding on the glass, he squealed.
“Mommy, Mason’s back! Look! He’s back.”
Ellen ducked behind the curtain, but not before she caught Mason look up and smile at her son.
JD darted out of the room. Ellen stood against the wall, her emotions reeling, too afraid to take another peek. JD returned with his winter gear, and she busied herself helping him put it on. Dressed like the Michelin Man, the boy bounded out the door.
Ellen watched him run to Mason. He flapped his mittened hands and hopped around Mason, never getting close, never making eye contact. For the first time, it occurred to Ellen that JD missed Mason. Consumed with her own self-pity, she hadn’t considered her son’s attachment to the man. JD had a picture in his room of Mason on his motorcycle. A couple of times he had brought it to her and repeated verbatim everything Mason had told him about the bike. Ellen had taken it as another of JD’s obsessions, like knights and smoke, but now she realized it had been his way of telling her how much he missed Mason.
Mason spoke to the boy and then looked up again. His unrelenting gaze immobilized her. She closed her eyes and turned away from the window. She went to the kitchen where she dressed to go outside. Standing at the foyer door, she took a deep breath and then opened it. The frigid air stung her exposed cheeks. She flung the end of her scarf across her neck and then marched down the steps to confront the interloper.
“Mason, what are you doing here?” Ellen asked, standing in front of him. “JD and I can shovel the driveway.”
Mason picked up a load of snow and tossed it on the bank. Ellen straightened her shoulders. A wave of heat traveled up her body.
“Didn’t you hear me? You don’t have to do this.”
“I know I don’t,” he huffed, lifting more snow.
“Then why?”
“I need something physical to do.”
“People go to gyms for that.”
Mason stopped. Gripping the orange handle on the shovel, chest heaving from exertion, he breathed through slightly parted lips.
Ellen watched his breath crystalize.
“I’ve never been much of a gym goer and this suits me.” He tapped the snow from the shovel. “Besides, growing up, my parents taught me to help your neighbor.”
Ellen mulled over Mason’s flimsy motive while studying the flakes melting on his Carhartt jacket and Green Bay Packers chook. With the small blue shovel in his hand, JD leapt nearly knocking Ellen to the ground.
“Mommy and me don’t have school. It’s a snow day.”
JD licked a clump of snow from his mitten.
“I remember liking snow days when I was your age.” Mason smiled. “You been having any more trouble with Miss Lucas, JD?”
“She’s a bully,” the boy replied without emotion. “Is this a snow day for you? Is that why you came to shovel?”
JD scampered over to the snow bank, scooped up some snow and then flung it into the air. Clumps fell on the cleared pavement, but a spattering of metallic flakes drifted down around the boy. Head tilted toward the sky, eyes closed and tongue flat against his chin, JD anticipated the clash of cold crystals on warm skin.
Watching her son, Ellen wished she could follow his lead. She pictured herself looking upward, arms outstretched, and the anger and hurt choking her heart melting away. JD dropped the shovel and then climbed up on the pile.
“Mommy cries a lot when you’re not here,” JD confessed in his flat, monotone voice.
“Does she?”
Ellen turned to Mason. The intensity of his eyes disarmed her. She stood motionless like the snow had frozen her to the spot.
“What does Mommy cry about?” Mason kept his gaze directed at Ellen.
JD didn’t answer. He’d jumped down from the snow bank, retrieved his small shovel, and then scraped it over the pavement Mason had already cleared, chattering to himself.
Ellen cocked her head. Her exposed vulnerability enflamed her indignation.
“Nothing that concerns you,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now, will you please get the hell out of my driveway?”
Mason’s eyes narrowed. “No!”
Ellen’s hands went to her hips. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I’m shoveling your damn driveway, so move!”
He backed her up to the steps until she had no choice but to sit or fall into his arms: she sat.
Mason squatted. “What you saw was meaningless.”
“Meaningless? I hardly think—’’
Mason shot up, tore the chook from his head, crumpled it into his fist and then stomped his boot inches from Ellen. “God damn it! I am going to have my say, and you’re going to listen!”
Teeth bared and eyes blazing with fury, Ellen watched Mason with fear reminiscent of the night he’d found her on the road. He picked up the shovel and drove it into the bank as if it were a dagger. She half expected the snow to bleed. He faced her, spewing a frosty vapor from his mouth and nose. His chest heaved.
“That day at Fortunate Sons’ was the first time I’d seen Desi since we broke up. She doesn’t work at the dealership, Ellen. As far as I know, she still dances at the Paradise Club. She must have taken those pictures in some studio. If she took them at the dealership, I wasn’t there.”
His eyes bore down on Ellen with such intensity that she shivered. He raged on.
“Kissing her was a ruse. We met in the parking lot. I was leaving and she was on the way in. She told me she led Jack to believe we were still together, so he wouldn’t bother her. We saw him watching us from the window, so I kissed her.”
Mason squatted in front of Ellen.
“I can’t tell you that I don’t care what happens to Desi. I do. We were together for almost a year. But I never felt for her what I do… what I did… for you.”
He hung his head. His hair hid his face like a long black veil.
“You’re wrong about me,” he whispered, looking up. Sweeping his hair back, his eyes linked with hers.
Ellen could barely breathe.
“With you, it wasn’t just sex.” He shook his head. “For the first time in my life, I made love.”
Mason rose and turned his back on her.
Ellen bit her bottom lip. She believed his story, or at least she wanted to. Their long separation, and now his assertion that he had loved her, forced Ellen to admit she’d misconstrued what had happened outside Fortunate Son’s. The only thing keeping her out of his arms was pride and deep regret. She got to her feet.
“Mason.”
He spun around. Conflicted emotion deepened the tiny lines by his eyes and pulled his lips into a taut line. Ellen swallowed.
“I’m sorry for misjudging you. I’m sorry for what I did to your bike.”
Mason looked down and then back at Ellen. He sighed.
“I came here thinking if I saw you and told you my side of the story, I might be able to get past what you did. It seemed like you wanted to believe the worst about me, and I don’t know why. I get that you were angry, but what you did to my bike….” Mason shook his head. “Let me ask you this. If I’d done harm to JD to get even with you, could you ever forgive me?”
Ellen rubbed her forehead. She wanted to understand his logic, but couldn’t.
“JD is a person, Mason. It’s not the same thing as a machine.”
“To me it is.” He touched her cheek.
Ellen took a deep breath. “I have to tell you something.”
Mason frowned. “It’s over, Ellen. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
He turned and then walked towards his truck.
JD ran after him, stopping him at the end of the driveway. “Where you goin’, Mason? We haven’t finished yet.”
“I gotta go.”
M
ason knelt down to the boy’s eye level. JD turned away.
“Be good in school, JD.”
“Are you comin’ back?”
Mason shook his head. “No.”
He stood. Ellen caught him take one last look in her direction and then watched him get into his truck.
JD darted into the road. Ellen ran to catch him.
“Come back, Mason! Come back!” JD yelled.
Ellen hugged him around the shoulders.
“Is he coming back, Mommy?”
JD’s worried eyes looked into hers. Ellen couldn’t respond. She retied the scarf around his neck.
“Come on. We’ve got to finish shoveling the driveway before it gets dark.”
He reluctantly followed. “He’s coming back, Mommy. Mason wouldn’t leave us here all alone.”
“We’ll see.” Ellen sighed. “But I don’t think so.”
The descending sun chilled the frostbitten sky a harsh purple hue. Ellen scooped up the snow and tossed the white powder onto the bank. Tears blurred her vison as she watched JD pacing the perimeter of the drive way. He scraped his shovel over naked concrete, telling himself Sponge Bob would return to save Bikini Bottom.
CHAPTER twenty-eight
Lying on the sofa, Mason mindlessly surfed television channels. His anger, like the sharp edges of broken glass, had been worn smooth by time’s ceaseless motion. Jack’s money, Mad Dog’s betrayal, and JD’s confession regarding Ellen tumbled through his head. He wondered what Ellen was going to tell him that afternoon. If he hadn’t cut her off, he knew he would have weakened and taken her back.
A cold draft stole through the window’s broken seal. Mason wished he’d fixed it over the summer but wasn’t sure it mattered. Sunday morning might be the end of him. Jack wasn’t the type of person to whom you could entrust your life. He might decide to save himself two hundred and fifty grand. Mason’s murderous wage laid on the cluttered coffee table. He hadn’t counted it, even though it might settle him down, but he could barely look at the foul enticement. Jittery, Mason clicked off the TV. The room fell silent and dark.
He considered the possible reasons why Mad Dog had taken so long in contacting Jack. Perhaps he’d been interrogating Muck Eye because Mason hadn’t seen the man in two days. No one had seen him, or else they weren’t talking.
“Stupid bastard!” Mason said aloud. He hoped the man had enough brains to skip town because if Mad Dog hadn’t already killed him, Jack would.
Mason realized if he managed to survive Sunday’s shoot-out, there still remained the threat of the Long Riders. He smiled involuntarily, remembering the terror in Doc’s eyes when he rammed his pistol in the big man’s mouth. It took a lot of balls to threaten the president of the club—or a lot of stupidity. At least the pussy knew nobody trashed Mason’s good name without repercussions.
Headlights flooded the room, intruding upon Mason’s thoughts. A car door slammed. Mason rose, flicked on the table lamp, and then tucked his Glock into his shoulder holster. He responded to a knock at the front door.
“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Mason asked, blocking Mad Dog’s entry.
“I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Look, will you let me in? It’s freezing. I’m not packing. I came here to ask a favor.” Mad Dog raised his arms. “Pat me down if it will make you feel better.”
Mason did just that, and when he didn’t find anything, he allowed Mad Dog entry.
Mad Dog stepped into the room.
“To prove I’ve come in peace….” He removed his Sons of Thunder cuts, folded the sacred garment, and then draped it over a chair. “You got anything to smoke? I need to get high.”
Mad Dog flopped down in the worn leather chair and drummed its massive rolled arms with his fingers.
Standing at the door, Mason watched. “I’ve got whiskey or beer.”
“What kind of drug dealer are you? You don’t have any weed?” Mad Dog asked, looking disgusted.
“I’m a smart one. You think I leave shit lying around my house. I try not to give the cops a reason to bust me.”
“How about some blow? You got any of that?”
“Are you kidding me?” Mason slammed the door.
Mad Dog shook his head. “You’re pathetic. You don’t have anything?”
“No.”
“Fuck.” Mad Dog sighed, slumping in the chair.
“I’ll get the whiskey. Next time, call first when you want something.”
Mason went into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of Jack Daniels, two glasses, and beer. He mixed the two in glasses. He took one for himself, handed the other to Mad Dog, and then sat on the sofa.
“What’s this favor that made you come calling so late?”
Mad Dog took a long drink. “I sent the girls to their aunt’s today. They were upset, but I wanted them gone when I go after your boss.”
“I figured you’d heard Muck Eye.”
Legs apart, with an elbow resting on each knee, Mason looked down. “You know, Mad Dog, Muck Eye was pretty wasted. Maybe what he said was bullshit.”
Mason glanced upward.
“Do you think it was bullshit, Rambo?”
“I don’t know. He’d done some pretty heavy stuff. Maybe it was just talk.”
“The hell it was! If I find the little weasel, I’m going to kill him and that bastard you work for.”
Mad Dog’s dark eyes narrowed. He took another drink. “Shit! I wish you had some weed. I won’t make it till Sunday.”
“Sunday?
“That’s the day I kill Jack. I called him today and arranged a meeting. Sunday, six o’clock in the morning at the Hardwood Warehouse.”
“Isn’t that your warehouse?”
“Yeah.”
Mad Dog finished the whiskey and then poured himself another.
Mason studied the slight trembling of the man’s hands. “Are you crazy? Jack won’t come alone to your backyard. I hope you’ve asked Sons of Thunder to back you up.”
“No one in the club knows anything about this. I want to keep it that way.”
“Not even Spider?”
“Not even Spider.”
Mason swigged down the alcohol. Its burn licked his throat. Mad Dog crossed his boot over his knee. Outside, the wind howled.
“You can’t trust Jack. I know. I work for the bastard. He’s liable to shoot you the minute you step out of your car. He doesn’t care how he kills you. Look what he did to your wife.”
Mason set down the glass; his eyes landing on the envelope. Leaning back, he sighed.
“Maybe you ought to wait it out. There were a lot of people at the Ritz that night who heard Muck Eye spout off about Jack killing Gina. Someone might have gone to the police. Maybe the men in blue will settle it. Why chance it when you have three kids to think about?”
“I’m doing this for my kids.” Mad Dog dropped his leg and leaned forward. “And for Gina and me! Jack’s going to pay for what he did to us! I’ve waited over two years for the cops to find my wife’s killer, and all they did was investigate me and the brothers I hang with. No, Rambo! I’m not waiting on the cops! I’m going to have my own justice. I’m going to kill that piece of shit if it’s the last thing I do!”
Mad Dog’s dark eyes bore down on Mason. Unflinching, Mason stared back. If the tables were turned, he’d do exactly as Mad Dog was proposing. The thought of someone harming JD or Ellen made him sick.
“Why tell me if you haven’t told the brothers?”
“I need someone to make sure my kids are safe. If I asked Spider or any of the other brothers, they’d want to get involved. You’re no longer a member of the club. Look, Rambo, I know we’ve haven’t seen eye to eye on things lately, but I still consider you to be a friend. You were there for me when I needed a brother the most; I’ll never forget that.”
Mad Dog paused.
“I’ve got a will, but someone needs to watch out for my girls if there’s retaliation
. Would you do that for me?”
Stunned, Mason licked his lips, his mouth dry as the Great Basin Highway in August.
“I… I… don’t know what to say.” Mason shook his head. “Me? Are you sure?”
Mad Dog smiled. “You’re the meanest mother fucker I know. Who better to protect my kids if I’m dead?”
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
“What?”
“I go with you when you meet Jack. You need someone to back you up if he brings any uninvited guests. Someone you can trust.”
“You’d do that for me? Even though I voted you out bad?”
“It isn’t for Sons of Thunder. It’s for our friendship.”
“I can’t ask you to do that, man. We both could end up dead.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered. And I don’t plan on ending up dead. If anything, I’ll probably have to save your sorry ass.”
Mad Dog sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “What about my kids?”
“If something happens, don’t you think Spider and the boys would make sure they were safe?”
Mad Dog finished his drink. “I gotta admit, it would settle my nerves if you came along for the ride, Rambo. I can’t wait to see Jack’s face when he sees you.”
Mason grinned. “Won’t he be in for a big surprise?”
The two men laughed. They poured another round and toasted the moment.
“Ah, hell,” Mad Dog sighed. “I need a woman.”
He rolled his head across his shoulders. “If I only have two nights to live, I need to get stoned and bang the hell out of some woman.”
Mason poured himself more whiskey.
“I don’t suppose you know if Samantha happens to be visiting Ellen this weekend?”
“I don’t think so. I was there shoveling this afternoon, and I didn’t see her.”
“You and Ellen okay now?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Mad Dog nodded. “When Ellen told me what she’d done to your bike, I thought if she’d done that to me, I’d never be able to forgive her either. But facing the real possibility of not being alive in a couple of days, I think I could. What you found with Ellen is irreplaceable, my friend. You won’t find another.”
The Word of a Liar Page 30
