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“They don’t look like they want to leave,” Big Jim says, clearly waiting for further instruction. “In fact, the old lady yelled at the camera and said they weren’t going to go anywhere until they’ve talked to you.”
“There’s something that you…that I have to tell you,” I blurt out, feeling panicked and backed into a corner. “Please,” I add, turning to Big Jim. “We just need a minute. Can you hold them off?”
Big Jim looks to my dad for his instructions, and my dad, who is looking at me with both brows cocked at funny angles, finally nods. Big Jim leaves us alone, closing the door behind him this time. I know I’m out of time and options here.
“I…whatever he’s done, whatever his family has done, I think it was a misunderstanding. I truly don’t want to believe he was ever going to use me. I can’t believe he was playing me because that would take crazy good acting skills, and I just can’t…I can’t let myself think I was tricked and manipulated like that. Maybe that’s silly, or maybe I can’t even begin to process that because it would hurt too much, but I just…there’s more, okay, there’s more. There’s another reason you can’t make minced meat out of him and his granny or anyone else in his family.”
“And that reason is…”
Dad isn’t trying to be patronizing. No, he’s actually being very patient, and he’s genuinely interested in what I have to say.
“Uhhh, well, it’s…it’s because they do lots of good in the world if what we know is correct. We need more people like that. I know hardly anyone agrees with vigilantism, and most people would call them anti-villains and not heroes, but what they do is heroic. We know that. The guys at the club know that. Everyone here knows that life isn’t easy, things aren’t simple, and nothing is about being a good guy or a bad guy. He might have lied to me or just not told me about who he really is and what he does, but doing that kind of work would be dangerous, and maybe he never wanted to embroil me in that because he wanted to keep me safe. You can understand that, right? I know you can. He needed to protect me, and he needed to protect himself and his family. I wasn’t a complication he planned for.”
Dad doesn’t scoff. But he does angle toward me on instinct, using his big body to shield me from the door, as if the door is a metaphor for the outside world and all the troubles and terrible things that can happen there. My dad isn’t being a big biker dad right now. He’s just like every dad in the world who wants to keep their kid safe. My stomach clenches big time, and my throat closes up because wouldn’t I do the same for my daughter? I’m so sure the baby’s a she. But if the baby’s not a she but a he, it’s okay. I would still move heaven and dang earth just the same for my son to keep him from any harm.
I can’t imagine how hard it is for my dad to hold back his anger and gut instinct to shred Smoke apart for what he did. The fact that my dad is listening to me right now, really listening, speaks volumes about the incredible character of the man who raised me.
Which makes me tear up all over again.
“How do you know this?” Dad asks softly. He grabs another tissue for me from the box on the nightstand—yes, my big bad dad keeps tissues on his nightstand—and passes it over.
I dab at my eyes. Here it goes. I do realize that, of all the things I’m going to say, this might make my dad the most enraged. This might literally send him into a crazed fury, and he might absolutely want to go out and doubly make double minced meat out of Smoke after this. The best I can hope for is that he hears me out before he gets an early morning craving for pummeled, tenderized, Smoked meat—oh god, that really works out too well. I’m not amused with myself. I swear I’m not.
I’m also not frantic. I’m suddenly quite strangely calm. Maybe it’s just that the time is right, or I’m counting on the innate trust and crazy amount of love my dad and I share. My dad is a great listener, and he’s also a great problem solver. Yeah, he might have always growled and intimidated any and all guys that I was ever interested in, so I always had to keep my…err…uh, interactions on the down low, but that’s just most dads for you. My dad just took it up a notch, and the fact that everyone knew who I was and how my dad had a legion of leather-wearing tough guys under him…well, most guys didn’t even dare. I’ll just say that. It wasn’t always my dad’s fault. It was just my reputation. His reputation? Both our reputations?
