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A coffee shop is located at the front of the store, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee has my mouth watering.
Ghost takes the bag from the cashier after batting my hand away when I reach for my card to pay. He notices me looking toward the coffee shop and laughs.
“Can you have coffee?” he asks.
“The paper says one to two small cups a day is okay.”
We wait in line as a couple of teenagers with backpacks slung over their shoulders place their orders.
When it’s our turn, Ghost steps up to the counter to order. “Can I have a large iced chai with extra whipped cream?”
Seeing Ghost, oversized and manly, ordering such a frilly drink has me laughing my first genuine laugh in what feels like forever.
I’m still laughing as I order my small Caffè Americano with half and half. “Can I also have a slice of banana bread, warmed please?” I ask, suddenly realized that I’m famished.
The young man behind the counter says our total aloud and I put my phone on the cardless reader before Ghost is able to pull out his wallet. I smile in success as Ghost gives me a bemused look.
We settle at the table in the back corner and wait for our coffees. Ghost hands me the bag of books across the table, but not before pulling one out and cracking it open.
“What is that one?” I ask, trying to get a glimpse of the inside cover.
Ghost turns it over, showing me the front. It’s a dad’s guide to pregnant women. At my puzzled look, Ghost shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re the first pregnant chick around in a long ass time. Since my adulthood at least. We gotta know shit too. I’m gonna give it to Trig when I’m done.”
I nod. Thoughts of Trigger pull so many questions to the forefront of my mind.
“Where is he today?” I ask as the barista sets our drinks in front of us. We thank her as she walks away. “I figured with how overbearing he’s been lately that he would’ve wanted to be there,” I continue.
I avoid Ghost’s eyes as I take a sip of the hot espresso, letting the familiar taste warm my insides.
“Trust me, Pebs, he wanted to be here today.”
“Then why isn’t he?” I ask with a little more attitude than intended.
If I wasn’t so annoyed by Trigger’s absence, I would be laughing at the whipped cream sticking to Ghost’s mustache after he takes a drink.
“Him and a few of the guys had to go on a run this morning. Club business.”
Club business.Isn’t that a term I’ve heard so many times before.
Back when I was a kid, there were many activities my dad had to miss due toclub business.He would always profusely apologize, but it never made up for the fact that he missed so many dance recitals and showcases. That was the only time Robin acted like a mother, but only so she could say that her daughter was the best dancer and top awarded in the company. It still didn’t make up for the fact that, while all the other dancers went out on the stage during the daddy daughter dance number, I remained backstage.
I nod my head, not pushing further so as to upset myself even more.
Ghost thankfully changes the subject to something he’s read on the first page of his book about being sensitive to hormone imbalances, which has me laughing around the hot liquid in my mouth. If Ghost is good for one thing, it’s a laugh.
He looks down at his phone, and raps his knuckles against the table. “You ready to get going? Trigger’s gonna bring you lunch in about an hour.”
I brush my fingertips together to get the crumbs off and take the last sip of my drink. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The drive back into Desert Rose is uneventful. Driving down First Street, we get stopped at a red light right out front of Winnie’s floral shop,Poppies and Petals.She’s outside, bent over rearranging her shelves of succulents.
Ghost taps his fist against the horn on the steering wheel twice, causing Winnie to spin around and smiles with a wave when she realizes it’s us. The light turns green, and Ghost honks one more time before continuing down the road, past all of the people walking around the strip malls of downtown.
Bydowntown, I really mean one long road separating the north and south sides of town. There are a few cut through roads that also contain many businesses, but First Street is the main strip. Further down the street, we pass the Desert Outlaw plaza, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t strain myself to see if Trigger was working at the pawn shop.
The big windows of the shop are outlined in red LED lights. The words PAWN SHOP shine bright red as well, competing with the brightness of the midday sun.
The club's pawn shop is the only one I’ve ever been to that isn’t entirely full of junk. While it does have the stereotypical glass cases full of rings and jewelry, most likely from disgruntled divorcees and people needing money, it also holds many antiques. The pawn shop doubles as Trigger’s car restoration obsession. He finds old things and restores them to their prior glory. The shop isn’t big enough, but people around town know that Trigger is the guy to see if they’re interested in purchasing an old, beat up, restored-to-mint-condition vehicle.
