The drive back from San Leandro would take something close to eight hours if the traffic was on our side. Longer if it wasn’t.

That day, it wasn’t.

It wasn’t that night either because the sun had started to set before we had gotten back to the city. My knuckles turned white as I squeezed the steering wheel of Lawson’s Camaro. Next time, I was driving the whole way. No. Next time, I was saying no to the impromptu road trip to San Leandro to watch an illegal fight.

Martin and Hanley had been more than a little pleased to see us… well, to see me I suppose. We had a time and a place. Chula Vista the next Friday night. That was all well and good, but disengagement from the two of them had set us back hours. I had to get back to San Diego.

I had a date.

The last time I had taken a girl out for a date I probably hadn’t turned twenty yet. What was that, over a decade since I had taken a girl out?

Shit.

If the traffic remained constant or became lighter, I’d be able to go home, at least have a shower and then go over to her house to pick her up. So we could go on a date. The idea was laughable to me, but I did like to think that I was going to get to spend time alone with Dana. Besides, she had sounded so excited. I wanted to give her that if it made her that happy.

At this point, however, the jury was out on whether or not she would actually be happy to see me. What degree of lateness would she allow? I conceded to sending her a message that I might be late getting back to San Diego, and indeed it was almost 8 p.m. by the time we rolled up to my house.

“Hitting The Bridge tonight?” Lawson asked. I realized with some surprise that I hadn’t told him about my date, or rather I hadn’t elaborated on it, and he just thought I wanted to take Dana out to The Bridge for drinks.

“Nope,” I said. He was silent, waiting for me to tell him where I was going.

“You aren’t going to tell me?”

“No,” I said again, slamming the door of his car shut.

“Fuck. You really do like her, huh?”

“We’re not having this conversation Lawson; I’m going to be late.”

“For your date with Dana. Are you sure that’s a good idea man?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s a date.”

“Tash and I used to go out all the time,” I supplied, knowing that it was not the same thing.

“To bars where you two could get drunk before going home and having sex. You said yourself; this is a date.”

I looked at Lawson. I didn’t want to admit that he had a point. The point he thought he was making was absolutely spot on, but he didn’t need the satisfaction of knowing he was right. This was nothing like what Tash and I used to do—what any other girl and I used to do. I had thought for days about a good place to take her. She was new to the city, so maybe she’d like to see some of the tourist sites, but a lot of those didn’t run at night. Was just dinner too cliché?

“What’s your point, Lawson? I’m going to be late.”

“I just think you should watch out. I don’t think she’ll let you turn her into your next fuck buddy.”

My skin prickled hearing that term.

“Don’t worry about who I’m fucking, Lawson,” I told him.

“I’m not worried Adam,” he said, raising his arms, showing he meant no offense. “I’m just saying; she’s no Natasha.”

“It’s a date, Lawson. I’m not marrying the girl.”

“That’s one more date than you’ve ever given anyone else.”

It was like someone with congestive heart failure telling you that you need to go easy on the steaks and beers because it’s bad for your arteries. Did you listen to them because they knew what they were talking about and had experience, or did you ignore them because they were in no position to be giving you nutritional advice?

I was about to reply when his eyes suddenly widened. I was just about to ask what it was when a voice behind me let me know.

“Adam. Baby, I thought I’d surprise you today. Where have you been?”

I used to love that voice, but at this specific point in time, I didn’t want anything to do with the girl.

“Tash. What are you doing here?”

She put her arms around me. Why did she touch me so much? Dana liked to touch me too, but it was different with her. I never wanted anything more than the sex with Natasha, and at the beginning, she didn’t seem to either. What was it? She and Dana weren’t in competition. What I wanted... she couldn’t give me. She had a boyfriend.

I wanted Dana... I don’t know how I did; I wanted her around? Near me? I didn’t want other women touching me who weren’t her. I didn’t tend to keep women around me like that. I tended to keep them as friends or friends that I fucked. Nobody had really approached me in the past like they wanted me to court them.

Was that what I wanted?

To court Dana?

If that was what it was to be the only person she was seeing—I mean banging—then yes; I wanted to court her.

She certainly wanted more than my cock, which was different. Different nice, and different unusual. A guy covered in automotive grease and on probation isn’t the one most girls wanted to bring home to their parents. Sure, I wasn’t on probation anymore, but I was still covered in automotive grease.

I had already met Dana’s dad though, so that was the hard part done. Right?

“Huh?” I asked Natasha. She had kept talking after her initial greeting, and I had heard none of it.

“I said, I missed you,” she leaned up to kiss me. I leaned away so she couldn’t.

“We talked about this, Tash. Go home.”

“You talked about this Adam. I didn’t agree to not see you again.”

“You really should. Look if it’s Tommy you don’t want anymore, take it up with him, not me.” I walked up to the door and unlocked it. I entered while Tash held on to me, making me unable to close it with her on the other side.

“Tash. Let go. We’re done.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll go. I just want a little parting gift. One last time, hm?” She squeezed inside the doorway and dropped to her knees.

“Tash. No. We’re not doing this. You need to go.”

The door crashing open caught both of our attention. The jilted boyfriend. Just what the fuck I needed. Tash scrambled to her feet.

“Tommy—”

“Get in the car Natasha,” he said calmly. This was new. He was usually tomato red and sweating in these situations. I had a bad feeling about calm and collected Tommy.

“Thomas. Please tell your girlfriend she needs to call before coming over. I haven’t been home all day.”

If I am killed one day, it’s going to be because of my smart mouth. Tommy boy wasn’t lying about that Beretta he threatened to pull on me the last time we had talked. No wonder he was so calm this time. He pulled it out as soon as the door shut behind Tash. 9mm. A 92FS from where I was standing. Good piece. I had to give him that.

“Put the gun down Tommy; she left already.”

“I told you to stay the fuck away from her.”

“I did. I don’t know if you noticed, but this is my house. Your girl came to me.”

“Shut up!” he said through gritted teeth.

I should have been more scared than I was, but his hands were shaking so much I couldn’t help goading him.

“Should I move closer for you to get a better shot or are you gonna come closer?”

Gunshots.

Gunshots are loud.

And bullets.

Bullets fucking hurt.

I clutched my side where he had just hit me and felt the warm blood soak through my clothes. Lawson chose this moment to reappear. I don’t know who was most shocked between the three of us.

“Fuck—fuck man, that wasn’t supposed to hit you.”

It was the way that he said it. I wasn’t even mad at him. I was just pissed; Dana would not be amused.

Lawson grabbed the guy and swung at him. Did they have to choose now, and here to do this? Fuck. I loved this jacket too. Dry cleaning leather cost a fucking fortune.

“Lawson, get him out,” I said walking away. He looked pretty shook up after the gun went off. He probably wanted to get out of there as much as I wanted him to.

I peeled my jacket off and dropped it on the floor. I caught sight of the blood stain in my white shirt. Fuck. That loser really hit me. I took it off gingerly, the soreness registering more than it had before. Shock. Or adrenaline. Or maybe the fact I couldn’t fucking believe he really pulled a gun out on me.

I was lucky. It was a flesh wound—just a graze.

Still, a solid B+ for making a threat and following through. The shirt wasn’t worth trying to save, so I staunched the blood flow with it. I heard Lawson calling through the house for me.

“In here,” I yelled back.

Lawson wasn’t a fighter. One of the reasons why was he was terrible with blood. He froze when he saw the shirt.

“Throw up on my floor, and I’ll kill you,” I told him.

“Oh my god,” he said, turning his back. “He actually hit you.”

“Is he gone?”

“Yeah. He was pretty scared... are you gonna press charges?”

For a split second, I thought about it. Just a second. What was he guilty of? Assault and trespassing. Assault with a deadly weapon at that. With the right judge, he could get nine years.

“Nah, not worth it. He made his point. I thought you left,” I told him.

“I saw Thomas roll up; he was parked across the street. He must have followed Natasha.”

“Did he take his gun?” I asked. There was no way I was getting into trouble for this.

“He did... what are you doing?”

The bleeding had stopped. I could deal with being shot. That sort of thing was great for your street cred. I could not deal with a staph infection. I walked into the bathroom to find something to put on it. My options were soap and water, or iodine.

I soaked a blood-free section of the shirt and pressed it onto the wound. I swore and gritted my teeth. Iodine burned like the fires of hell, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

I vaguely heard Lawson asking me whether I had lost my mind.

“What the fuck man? Go to the hospital.”

I almost yelled back to him that I had a date, but I knew how it sounded. What time was it then? The hours and minutes didn’t matter. The answer was fucking late, regardless.

“So they can charge me to do exactly what I just did here for free?”

I tried my luck with another shirt—black. I didn’t have any gauze. 100% cotton would have to do. The fabric of the shirt rubbed against the raw flesh underneath in a way that made my skin crawl.

“Adam. Why are you getting dressed?” he asked, and a second later didn’t have to wait for the answer because his face dropped. He knew. “You can’t…”

“Watch me.”

I picked my jacket up off the floor looking at the extent of the blood staining. I stopped myself. I couldn’t go to Dana’s covered in blood. That was too much. Even for me. On our first date?

“You can’t be serious. There is no way you want it that bad.”

“Believe it, friend,” I said dismissively.

“Bro... at least go by a Rite-Aid first. Damn dude.”

I realized how this looked. He must have thought I was crazy. He must have thought I had lost my mind if I was trying to treat a gunshot wound like a papercut and race off to a girl’s house.

Not a girl though. Dana’s house. It was different.

I stopped anyway.

He was right.

The shirt would become stuck in the wound as the blood clotted.

I wanted to get to her, but I couldn’t do it like this.

I’d have to get this shit dressed properly, at the very least. Then I’d go to Dana’s. She’d understand, right? What was I thinking? I couldn’t tell her.

What—I was late because the boyfriend of the girl I used to bang came to my house and shot me?

No, I’d just knock at the door and talk to her. I’d make it up to her…

… somehow.