I sat in Hawk’s battered old chair and stared across his cavernous lair.
I’d just finished my voyage of discovery. I didn’t go so far as to look through his desk and bedroom drawers but, after he left, I’d poured a mug of coffee and searched the only space I knew that was really his.
I went under the bedroom platform and checked out his shelves.
He had a lot of CDs; he liked music, plain to see. His tastes were all over the place. Rock ‘n’ roll, the old stuff, seventies mainly. Heavy metal, all good, no hair bands. Jazz, the sweet kind, from days gone by, not the saxophone-heavy new kind. Blues, Billie Holiday and Robert Johnson, nice. R&B, some rap and, rounding out this selection, even some classical.
In other words, nothing there to get a lock on anything – there was too much of everything.
I went to the books and, although there were a lot of them, they didn’t tell me anything more. He didn’t relax with an exciting thriller or an intriguing mystery. Most of the books were books I didn’t even know they wrote books about and I was a book editor. Manuals on strategy of war, hand-to-hand combat, martial arts philosophy. Biographies of war generals. History books of battles. Nothing else. Not even a slim volume of poetry to give me some insight.
So I curled up in his chair and looked across his space as my mind filtered through what I knew of the bed platform and his office. This also gave me nothing. What you saw with Hawk was what you got. His life was narrow, organized and controlled. There was no personality to it. He had a family, brothers, nephews – family that was close and they cared about him but there were no photos. No scrapbooks. No frames of ribbons earned for feats executed in the Army. No DVDs that showed what kind of films that entertained him. No art on the walls that reflected his taste. His furniture and fittings were stylish and expensive, definitely, but they were also heavy, masculine and durable. Even if they were attractive, they were utilitarian.
Except this nook. This chair. This table. This lamp. It didn’t fit but it also didn’t tell me anything yet somehow I knew it said it all.
All I sort of knew was, if what he said before he left, and even what he said about when he first saw me was what I thought he meant, I meant something to him before I walked into Ride.
Daily reports.
You didn’t demand daily reports on someone you didn’t care about in some way, even if it was a distant, freakishly-stringent, emotionally controlled way.
I sighed. Then I made a decision. Then I untucked my feet from under me and walked up the steps to get my phone. Then I walked to the kitchen, got myself a fresh mug of joe and I walked back to Hawk’s chair, took a sip of coffee, put it to the table and tucked myself into Hawk’s chair.
I flipped open my phone and scrolled down. Then I stared.
Then my belly got squishy and my heart swelled right before I smiled softly at my phone.
Hawk had programmed four listings in my phone. One that just was “Hawk” which I assumed was his cell. Under that was “Hawk Base”, under that “Hawk Base Private” which I assumed was his private, direct line at the office and under that “Hawk Home”.
Apparently, Hawk wanted me to be able to contact him if I needed to contact him.
For shits and giggles, I scrolled down to “Hawk Home” and hit go. A couple seconds later the phone upstairs, the one on one of the end tables by the seating area, the one in the kitchen and the one on his desk all rang.
I smiled again and hit the red button. Then I scrolled up to Hawk and hit go.
It rang twice before it was answered with an industrious but definitely sassy, “Hawk’s phone, you got Elvira. Talk to me.”
I didn’t talk to her due to my surprise that she answered the phone.
“Don’t got all day,” she prompted.
“Um… sorry, I was calling Hawk,” I said stupidly.
This was met with silence.
Then a high-pitched, “Gwen?”
“Uh… yeah, um… is Hawk –”
“Girl!” she cut me off. “How you doin’?” she asked conversationally, like we’d not only met but given each other manicures. Then again she’d packed my bags for me so she probably thought she knew me.
“Uh… fine,” I answered.
“Good to hear,” she replied. “The shit’s gone down with you happened to me, basket case. No doubt. Then again, I had Hawk gathering the boys to launch an all-out rescue operation on a biker compound to save my ass, maybe not.”
“Yes, that does make me feel a modicum of safety,” I agreed.
“Modicum!” she hooted like that was hilarious. Then again, it was. Hawk and his commandos provided much more than a modicum of safety.
“Um… thanks for packing my bags,” I offered.
“Girl, thank you! Sortin’ through your shit was like a trip to female Candy Land. You got thirteen little black dresses,” she informed me.
“I know,” I replied.
“Each one red hot, scorchin’. Seen you on camera loads, girl, thought it was about your ass, maybe your hair, but now I know it’s about those little black dresses,” she said.
“Unh-hunh,” I mumbled.
“Anyway, what you need?” she asked.
“Is Hawk there?” I asked back.
“Negatory,” she answered. “He’s in the middle of somethin’, can’t take calls, forwarded them to me.”
Hmm. This didn’t sound good.
“Can you give him a message to call me?”
“Sure, but you can tell me what you want and I got authority to take care of it. Boys are busy but I know you’re quarantined at the Hawk Hangout so you need somethin’, let me know and I’ll find someone who can sort you out.”
“That’s nice but I just wanted to know if it’s okay if I asked my girlfriends to come over.”
“When you want us to be there?”
Us?
“Um…”
“I get off at five o’clock, could be there at five twenty,” she went on.
“Well… the thing is, I’m um…” I stopped because she’d gone out to buy shoes for me and then gone to my house to pack for me. The latter she did well, making sure I had everything I needed. It was a nice thing to do, even if she was getting paid to do it. Clearly she wanted to befriend me and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“The thing is what?” she prompted.
Oh hell. Nothing for it.
“The thing is I want my girlfriends over to talk about Hawk.”
“I know Hawk,” she offered.
“Yes, but he’s your boss.”
“Sho’ ‘nuff, girl, so you need me there.”
“I do?”
“Hon, Janine may be in charge of doin’ the grunt work to organize his life but who you think gives her her grocery orders and sends her out to buy cargo pants? Me. You want the lowdown on Hawk, ain’t no one better equipped for that action.”
“Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” I asked and I heard her hoot (again).
“Fuck yeah but who cares?” she asked back then went on. “Listen to me, Gwen. I been working for Cabe Delgado for seven years. When I walked my ass into this place to interview for the job, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Hot guys everywhere. So much fine ass, shit! I woulda worked here for nothin’. First day, thirty minutes in, these boys, they became a pain in my ass. Sortin’ their shit out is like herdin’ cats. Luckily, eye candy provides job satisfaction, if it didn’t, I’d have gone to the supply cabinet and got myself a baton and wailed on some commando ass long before now. Then, coupla days ago, Hawk walks in and tells me to go to Nordstrom’s. Nordstrom’s! I didn’t ask, I just grabbed the company card and hauled my ass outta here. I was all over that shit. You think I won’t do all I can do to see that my duties include occasional trips to the mall, you… are… wrong.”
Oh boy.
“Perhaps you aren’t going to be able to be very objective during the discussion,” I suggested.
“You bet yo’ ass I won’t be objective,” she agreed then continued. “I’ll see you at five twenty, what do you drink?”
“Um… cosmos.”
“I’m all over that,” she declared then ordered, “Call your girls and see you later.”
Then she gave me dead air.
Hmm. I was uncertain how that went. What I was certain about was that Elvira was going to be there at five twenty.
I called Cam and Tracy, found that they both could make a five twenty come to a meeting of the minds about Cabe “Hawk” Delgado. I gave them directions to the lair and a head’s up about the Elvira addition and then I sipped more coffee.
Then, because I could be a girlie idiot, I flipped my phone open just to see Hawk’s numbers on my contact list. As I was scrolling down, the bar highlighted “Ginger”.
I stared at my sister’s name. Then I thought about the fact that the best case scenario was my sister going into the witness protection program and I avoided any thoughts of the worst case scenario because they threatened to give me hives.
Then I got a wild hair, hit go and put it to my ear.
“What?” she answered.
Holy crap. She answered!
“Ginger? It’s Gwen.”
“I know, bitch.”
Okay, maybe I didn’t care that my sister might disappear into the witness protection program.
The problem was, I cared about the possible worst case scenarios.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“What do you care?”
“Ginger –”
“Listen, got shit to do. Don’t waste my time callin’ and pretended you give a shit, okay?”
“I do give a shit,” I replied.
“Right.”
Sarcasm.
Welp, guess that meant that Ginger’s serious trouble didn’t make Ginger reflect on her way of life and familial relationships. Why was I not surprised?
“Yes, right Ginger. Listen to me, I know we’re never going to be tight, you don’t drink cosmos and I don’t do acid trips, but you’re my sister, I’ve been living a taste of your problems and I’m worried. You might not believe me but that’s the real deal. I’m worried, Dad’s worried and Meredith is worried.”
“None of you were worried the other night when I needed a fuckin’ shower,” she retorted.
“That was before the firebombs and drive-bys.”
Silence.
“Maybe I can do something for you,” I offered softly into the silence.
“Oh yeah, right, now you’re willin’ to do somethin’ for me. All these years, you treat me like a piece of shit. Your livin’ room gets blown to shit, you wake up. Is that it?”
“All these years I didn’t treat you like a piece of shit,” I denied and I did this because it was damn well true.
“Unh-hunh.” More sarcasm.
Now I was getting mad.
“Unh-hunh,” I repeated. “I don’t know what it is with you but if you have time to process this, we will. See, I didn’t cut the hair off your Barbies. I didn’t steal your shit to buy drugs. I didn’t put my hand down your boyfriends’ pants. And I didn’t fuck your husband.”
“I knew you’d eventually throw that in my face,” she returned.
Was she for real?
“You fucked my husband!” I yelled.
“Yeah, Gwen, and then you got shot of his ass. You never shoulda hooked up with that dickface in the first place. Now you’re shacked up with Hawk fuckin’ Delgado, of all fuckin’ people, you should be kissin’ my fuckin’ feet.”
This point had merit.
“I knew you did that for me,” I said quietly.
“Someone had to wake your shit up.”
Oh. My. God.
Was that sisterly love I was feeling for Ginger? I couldn’t quite tell since I hadn’t felt it for what seemed like centuries.
“Ginger, honey, please listen to me –”
“No. I don’t know what Conan told you but you have no idea what’s goin’ down with me. What I know is perfect, sweet Gwennie doesn’t have the tools to help me sort this shit out. No one does. Not even Conan. I’m in this alone and I don’t give a fuck. I’ve always been in it alone.”
“Maybe if you’d accept a little help –”
“Fuck you, Gwen. You don’t want to help me. You want the drive-bys to stop.”
“Yes, I do. Definitely,” I agreed. “But I also don’t want my sister to be out there on her own against multiple bad guys when maybe I can help.”
“There is no help for this.”
“Ginger –”
“Don’t fuckin’ call back, Gwen. Ever. Yeah?”
More dead air.
I flipped my phone shut on a hissed, “Shit!”
Then it rang instantly and I flipped it back open, thinking it was Ginger and put it to my ear.
“Ginger?”
“No,” I heard, “Troy.”
Oh shit.
“Troy,” I said quietly.
“Yeah, remember me?”
Uh-oh.
“Troy, I –”
“Got your house shot up. I called four times, no call back. Heard you were okay from Tracy. You call when your bathroom faucet doesn’t shut off but you don’t call when I’m worried out of my mind, I hear your living room’s been shot to shit?”
“Things have been a little crazy.”
“Gwen, you got your house shot up in a drive-by,” he returned. “I know things are crazy but too crazy to call your fucking friend and let him know you’re all right?”
“Mom came by yesterday,” I informed him. “I was a little out of sorts.”
“I can see Meredith would be freaked about –”
“No, Troy, not Meredith, Mom.”
Silence.
I took in a deep breath. “Hawk hurt you and I’m sorry about that. He’s… um… well… whatever. That’s the way he is. I didn’t know what to say to you so –”
“You didn’t know what to say to me because you’ve been hiding a relationship from me for a year and a half. And, like a chump, you’re on the town with Rambo and I’m working in your kitchen and on your house all that time.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I declared and it wasn’t. I just had no intention of telling him what it was like.
“Bullshit. It was just like that. So I figure I deserve an explanation of why you’d play me for a chump, Gwen.”
All right, I was getting mad again.
“Actually, Troy, what it was like is none of your business. I didn’t play you for a chump. You’re my friend. When you need something, you call on your friends.”
“Yeah, you have no problem doing that.”
“And you don’t either,” I shot back. “Wasn’t it me you called when you got that terrible flu and I took you to the doctor and I took you home and I made sure you had your medicine and enough Kleenex and cleaned out your vomit bowl? News flash, Troy, I do not like vomit, at all. I avoid vomit like I avoid orange-hued lipstick, in other words, at all costs. But I’ll deal with it for a friend.”
“Gwen –”
“And wasn’t it me, when you wanted to impress that girl, that came over and made a three course meal for you to claim as your own when you had her over to your house?”
“I –”
I cut him off and pulled out the big guns.
“And wasn’t it me who dropped everything and flew down to Tucson with you so you could help your Mom arrange to bring your father back up to Denver for his funeral?”
“Honey –”
“This wasn’t a one way street and you know it,” I cut him off again. “I gave as good as I took and it upsets me that you’d say differently. Now, my living room is a disaster, I can’t go home, my parents can’t go home, my sister is in trouble and my mother showed up out of the blue because she heard I hooked myself a man who could afford Jimmy Choos so she wanted to get in there and get… whatever. I haven’t seen her for decades and there she was. I found out she’d always been close but didn’t give a shit to get closer until she thought she could get something out of it. I’m sorry Hawk hurt your feelings and, on top of all this, I’ve been worried that I’d lose you because of it. But I don’t need this shit now, Troy. I need my friends around me and if you aren’t that, I don’t know what to say except it would kill to find that out now after all we’ve been to each other.”
“I’m in love with you, Gwen,” he whispered, no hesitation, he socked it right to me and I sucked in breath and didn’t respond, just stared at my lap experiencing the pain that shot through my heart. “Honey?” he called when I didn’t speak.
“I wish you would have told me,” I whispered back. “But I can’t say what would happen if you did but now… now, I can’t deal with this, Troy. I love you, I think the world of you but I have a man in my life. I don’t know where it’s heading, all I know is that what he makes me feel scares the fucking hell out of me and I need to focus on that.”
“I know why he scares you, honey,” Troy replied gently.
“Why’s that?”
“Because he’s got Scott Leighton written all over him.”
I sucked in an audible breath.
“Troy –”
“You do that. You’ve always done that. The good-looking guys that think their shit doesn’t stink and walk all over you.”
Oh God.
Troy went on. “It hurt enough when Scott wore loafers. How’s it going to feel like when the guy wears combat boots?”
“I’m not sure he’s like that.”
“I met him once, didn’t know him at all and he didn’t hesitate with what he said to me in front of you, Trace and whoever the fuck those guys were. He didn’t give a shit about me. What makes you think, he’s got something to say you don’t like, or he plans to do something that’ll hurt you, he’ll give a shit about you?”
“I think I know him better than you do, Troy, and he’s not like other people. He actually thought he was doing you a favor.”
“Well, Gwen, he thought wrong. You and I, we’ve always been close and now we’re having this conversation. That’s what he did. He might have told you he was doing me a favor but that guy is the kind of guy who pisses in corners. You’re territory and he saw me infringing on that so he drove in that wedge. Don’t think it was anything else.”
“I don’t want to hurt you any more, babe, but I don’t think he thinks of you as competition,” I said gently.
A beat of silence then quietly, “Right.”
“Troy, don’t do this to us.”
“I didn’t, Gwen, Rambo did.”
I opened my mouth to speak but got more dead air.
I flipped the phone shut, stared at it and then, again, hissed, “Shit!”
And again it rang in my hand.
I flipped it open immediately and put it to my ear.
“It’s not nice to hang up on –”
“Babe,” Hawk cut me off.
“Hawk?”
I was surprised. I thought he was incommunicado.
“Give me a good reason why you’re callin’ Ginger.”
I sat frozen then realized he knew everything about me which must include monitoring my calls.
“Hawk –”
“You don’t know her.”
“Hawk –”
“You don’t know someone, you sure as fuck don’t talk to them.”
“Hawk –”
“You talk to her and someone’s monitoring her communication, they hear you, they find you or they make assumptions.”
Okay, something new to add to my list of why Hawk could be annoying and that was when he was right.
“I saw her name on my contact list and got a wild hair,” I admitted.
“No, you saw her name on your contact list, it reminded you you’re worried about your sister and you phoned her,” Hawk laid it out.
“Well, kind of the same thing.”
A sigh, then, “Babe.”
“I thought you were occupied,” I changed the subject.
“I was but base got the ping on your phone, Mo called Jorge, Jorge is at my back and he’s not occupied like me. He gave me the message you’re contacting your fuckin’ sister and I got unoccupied.”
“Oh,” I muttered.
“Gwen, baby, do me a favor. Trust me enough to do what I can for your sister. And trust me enough that I can deal with the emotional fallout we find there’s nothin’ I can do for your sister. Yeah?”
I looked from my lap to his books to his CDs to his lair.
“Gwen, you there?” Hawk called.
He got unoccupied. For me.
He wanted me to trust him with emotional fallout.
I stared at his lair. It still gave me nothing.
Even so, I knew Troy was wrong.
“I’m here,” I said quietly, “and I’ll do you that favor.”
“Thanks, Sweet Pea,” he said quietly back.
“My girlfriends are coming over later, is that cool with you?” I asked.
“Yeah, babe.”
“Elvira has decided she’s my girlfriend,” I shared.
“No surprise,” he replied.
“Do you need to get reoccupied?” I asked even though he wasn’t giving me an impatient or preoccupied vibe but I was guessing if he was forwarding his calls, he did it because he was in the middle of something important that required his full attention.
Attention he shifted for me.
Shit.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Okay, I’ll let you go.”
“Later, babe.”
“Later, Hawk.”
Dead air.
I flipped my phone shut and gazed unfocused into his lair.
Then I flipped my phone open again and called information to get the number for my insurance agent because I needed to report my drive-by.
