American Dreamers
Donnie
There are voices in the water, the shower head whispering the secrets of the Earth. Sometimes if I listen closely enough, I can hear my name. It's a kind voice. Maybe one of the kindest of voices, like it cares for me.
"Donnie," it says. "Donnieeee." I can't ever make out more than that, but I want to. The water turns cold and I turn the knob with a squeak.
When I'm back downstairs in the basement, there's a message waiting for me on the flip phone. I flip it open, one hand holding up my towel. The light from the phone illuminates
SWEETCOFFEE'S 10 o'clock.
I get dressed. My dark blue bomber jacket, my mirrored sunglasses and black jeans - my serious business outfit. I style my hair a little in front of the mirror, but worrying that I'm going to be late, I abandon it about halfway through.
I get to the fridge upstairs and grab a slice of leftover pizza, wrapped in plastic wrap. I kick the door closed with my foot and knock some of the magnets off of it. I don't really have the time to pick them up so - fuck it - I leave em.
"Oh! Where are you off to in such a hurry?" She asks.
I start peeling the slice out of the wrap and take a bite of it. I get a couple of good chews in, smacking my lips. She's sitting in the living room, an issue of Home and Garden perched in her hands. She's looking over reading glasses, head tilted down, to look up at me.
I swallow my bite, "Uh, job interview Ma."
"Well good luck!"
The front door slams behind me and the screen door follows suit. The keys jangle as I swing them out of my pocket. The car door slams, the engine roars to life and while I feel the vibration of car rattle me I peek up at the visor mirror - hot damn I look good.
xXx
The parking lot of SweetCoffee's is rather large. With the country buffet being on the edge of town, you get a view of neighboring fields and the road as it stretches off towards Kentucky. The road has that wet, faraway look. Soon, a horde of motorcycles appear from that wet road, like they were riding right out of the ether.
I can hear them even from here. I'm leaning against my Mustang, trying to look nonchalant. I was five minutes late, but these guys are fifteen so I'll be a hard ass and give em shit. Well maybe, I don't know. I start getting stiff while leaning against the Mustang and I have to shift my pose. Fuck, they're a long ways away.
They circle around my Mustang and I, in an empty section of parking lot - the section furthest away from the buffet entrance. The leader, Haug, steps off his Hog. He's a big guy and he loves to show it. His Club Cut has frayed edges where his jacked, tatted arms pop out. He's got a buzzed haircut, gray on top and black on the sides. He chews tobacco. On his leather padded pants he's got a leg holster with a fucking sawn-off shotgun in it. Their motorcycles hum all around me. I decide that I'll let the fifteen minutes late thing go out of professional respect.
I offer, "Hey there Haug. What's bangin'?"
He chews his tobacco and out of the side of his mouth, "Banging...what?"
"I'm just makin' conversation. Hows things with you? How's the gang?"
"Are you being cute?"
"What? No?"
He spits. Then he says, "We're not some fucking two-bit gang, we're a Club, get that?"
"Y-yeah I get that. It's a figure of speech?"
One of the guys around me slaps me on the head from behind, just enough to scold me. I'm mad at first but then my eyes fall on Haug's shotgun holster and I just look down. Some of the guys on the motorcycles laugh.
"Let's just fucking move this along," Haug says.
I open the trunk to the Mustang. A Duffle Bag, that I know is filled with cash waits inside. Haug picks it up and slings the strap over his chest. One of his cronies toss an identical looking bag into the trunk, a bag I know is filled with a couple bricks of coke. I slam the trunk shut.
"Pleasure doing business. See you on the flip side."
Haug mounts his ride and spits onto the ground, a small brown splat on the asphalt. The gang roars their engines and howl a little. In the same manner they arrived, they headed off and evaporated into the wet stretch of road. I got back in my Mustang.
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