Page 60 of Tito

Tito

Ibelieved love was like a plant. Upon sprouting, it was weak and underdeveloped. In time, it had the possibility to grow stronger, provided it was supplied with care and maintenance. Affection was its water. Kindness, its nourishment. Compassion, its sunshine.

Reggie caused me to take a step back and second-guess my previous beliefs. I now wondered if two people could be so undeniably compatible that love merely existed between them, waiting to be found and explored.

Toying with that notion, I spent three successive days with her. By Wednesday morning, I was certain we shared something special, and was willing to go to whatever length I must to explore the possibility that we were destined to be together.

Sitting in the clubhouse for the MC’s weekly meeting, I lacked the desire to participate in the club’s functions. High on ice cream, I decided I’d play it cool and hope I could figure out a way to make everything work out.

Baker scanned the group, and then looked at me. “What do you mean you don’t know yet?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“If you were challenged to hack into the Pentagon’s computer, you could do that, right?”

“They don’t have a computer, but yes. I could.”

“Change the address of LAPD’s head detective in his profile in their database?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Explain to me why you’re having a hard time with the security system at a rinky-dink coin and gold trader’s place of business in fucking Ramona?”

“I’m not having a hard time. I just haven’t had the time to mess with it.”

He mussed his hair and then looked at me with crazy eyes. “It’s been two weeks.” He glared at the floor between us for a moment, and then looked up. “Is it the hat? Are you still fucked up over that goddamned hat?”

“Nope. Over the hat, Boss.”

He scratched his beard feverishly. “Over it, huh?”

“Yep.”

“You haven’t responded to text messages. You haven’t been around the shop. Your participation in the meeting last week was lackluster, at best. The only thing you’ve accomplished in the past two weeks is to go get a bunch of pink flowers tattooed on your arm.” He lowered his hands and arched an eyebrow. “Is there something going on that I need to know about?”

“Nope.”

“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Brother.”

“I don’t need help.”

His brows raised. “Obviously, you do.”

“I’ll look into the security system,” I said. “As soon as I get a minute.”

“So, you’ve just been busy as fuck here lately?” he asked jokingly.

“Actually,” I responded. “I am.”

“With what?”’

“Life.”

“What, exactly, is going on?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Cash quipped. “What the fuck’s going on, midget?”

There wasn’t anything going on. Sooner or later, everyone gets tired of their job. I was tired of mine. I didn’t need the money. The risk was no longer worth the reward.