Page 97 of Thick

Together, like everything else we did that night, we came.

At some point, I returned to earth. When I did, I realized something.

Tate Reynolds wasn’t normal. He was an anomaly. A systems glitch. An oddity. But. He was mine.

And I was never going to let him go.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Tate

Crip, Pee Bee, Cholo, Smokey, The Nut, Stretch and I rode to Chula Vista for Mexican food. The hour-long ride was well worth it, giving us plenty of time to talk, share stories, and enjoy some of Southern California’s finest tacos.

Crip and I stood by the building and waited for Stretch to get done pissing. After a few minutes of waiting while the rest of the fellas goofed off, I glanced at Crip. “I can’t believe the old man came out today. It’s hot as fuck, and he doesn’t like the heat. Must have really wanted some tacos.”

Stretch was the oldest member of the club. At 57, he was far from old, but he wasn’t in the best of health after a lengthy battle with pneumonia he simply couldn’t shake. To see him out during the hottest part of the day wasn’t typical.

Crip glanced at the rest of the fellas, who were standing beside their bikes, and then looked at me. “We’re going to have a meeting when we get back.”

The tone of his voice was such that I knew something was wrong. We hadn’t come to Chula Vista because Crip wanted a taco. We made the trip for another reason altogether, and I had a feeling it was about Stretch’s health.

“What’s up?”

“We’ll talk when we get back, Meat.”

“Maybe I want to talk now.”

“And, maybe I don’t.”

“There’s four of us left. You, Pee Bee, me, and Stretch. I got a right to know. There’s something going on, I know it.”

“I said we’ll discuss it when get back,” he growled.

“And, I said I wanted to talk about it now. Stretch has been around since the beginning of this, Boss. Tell me what’s going on.”

He clenched his jaw, looked at the other men, and then locked eyes with me. “For now, this stays here. I’m telling Pee Bee later. I doubt he’ll take it well.”

“What?”

He let out a long sigh, and then looked at me. “He’s been HIV positive for some time, He’s got AIDS.”

I suspected I reacted the way most people do. I denied it.

I shook my head. “Impossible. He needs another doctor to have a look at him.”

“They have.”

I crossed my arms. “I’ll find a good one.”

“I’ve had him at the best, believe me.”

“He’s sure?”

“Positive.”

“HIV or AIDS?”

“AIDS.”