Page 24 of Thick

It was true. I did. It may have seemed inconsequential to most, but short of Andy and my father, I talked to no one. Talking to Tate for 5 minutes a day over the course of two months was a significant achievement. It was more interaction with the male species than I’d had in the last three years combined.

My father rested his chin in his hands and looked me over. “You’re quite resourceful. I’m sure you can find him if you want to. But. I don’t think that’s what you want right now. I think you’re hoping that those books give you an insight to just who the man on the other side of the cell door was.” He arched an eyebrow. “Am I far off?”

I chuckled. “Probably not.”

“Your reading pace is what? A book a night?”

“Pretty close.”

“Well, here in a few weeks, you’ll have read everythibng he’s put out there. If you still think you need to talk to him when you’re done, I’m sure you’ll figure something out. If you wanted me to tell you I think you shouldn’t have interest in a biker who stands up for what he believes in, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

He didn’t tell me much, but he said what I needed to hear. I glanced at my watch, and realized the morning had somehow escaped us.

“I think I’m going to go. It’s almost noon.”

He smiled. “Keep me posted?”

I nodded. “I will.”

“Everything that’s meant to be, will be,” he said.

I’d heard that phrase so many times, I’d come to believe it. “I know.”

My fear was that my relationship with Tate had run its course.

Chapter Ten

Tate

Crip was sitting on his motorcycle at the far end of the shop. With his hands draped over the handlebars and his head hanging low, it seemed something was deeply troubling him.

I rolled to a stop and shut off the engine. “Where is everyone?”

He cocked his head to the side and looked at me. “Out dicking around. Smoke’s got another job in La Jolla. Cholo’s with him. Pee Bee hasn’t made it in yet, and who knows where P-Nut is.”

I hung my helmet on the bars and got off the bike. As I walked toward the fridge, he began to chastise me for my recent absence.

“Speaking of someone’s whereabouts, where the fuck you been lately? Since you got out, you’ve been pretty God damned scarce.”

“Just been trying to make ends meet after paying that fucking attorney thirty grand.”

He coughed a sarcastic laugh. “Editing your ass off, huh?”

I grabbed a beer. “Yeah. Something like that.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Want one?”

“Appreciate it.”

I reached for another beer and turned around. He got off is bike, walked to the work bench, and leaned against it. Using the toe of his boot, he kicked black scuff marks onto the surface of the concrete floor.

“So, what the hell’s going on?” I asked.

He looked up.

I handed him a beer and then took a drink of mine. “You look like someone shit in your aquarium.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then gave me his typical stern glare. “We’ve got a little problem.”

“From the look on your face, I’m going to guess it’s not little. Satan’s Savages causing problems again?”