Chapter Twelve
Dax
I had an appointment with my P.O. the day after Olivia and I had our date. It was scheduled at nine in the morning so I’d just stayed in my room at my mom and my dad’s house the night before. My mom woke me up at eight and with a screaming hang over; I showered and dressed like a respectable citizen in anticipation of her arrival.
As usual, she was right on time. My mom showed her in and brought out the usual homemade goodies.
“So, Dax, how are things?” she asked.
I started to answer her when I saw my dad coming down the hall. Shit! I thought he’d left already.
Miss Ortega looked up and saw what I was looking at and said, “Well hello, Jo-Jo.”
My dad made a face at the name, but to his credit, he pasted on a smile and said, “Miss Ortega is it?”
“Yes, that’s right,” she said with a huge smile. I think she loved trying to make him as uncomfortable as possible.
“Nice to see you again,” he said.
He came over and grabbed one of the cinnamon rolls that my mom had sat out and then gave me a raised eyebrow look that said he wished I had more respectable visitors. He shuffled out to the kitchen to get his coffee.
When he was gone, she turned back to me and said, “Okay, so what’s been going on?”
I told her about the business and that I was taking my class the following week so that I could get licensed. It seemed to make her happy, but in true Parole office form she said, “Remember that a shop like that will attract a lot of the more…unsavory characters in town. Choose your friends wisely.” My dad shuffled back by and she watched him until he disappeared into the bathroom. She looked back at me and said, “I guess you can’t pick your relatives though.”
I grinned and said, “No ma’am, unfortunately not.”
“So do you have all the requirements taken care of to get your licensure? You are going to do this the right way, right?”
“Yes, my mother and I printed off everything and I have gone over it all. I’m registered for the Health and Safety class next week. Once I pass, I just have to pay the state and I’ll be licensed.”
“Cool,” she said. “Have you done an internship or anything?”
“California doesn’t require an internship, but I did spend a day at my friend’s shop. I watched him do several tattoos and he familiarized me with the tools and a lot of the procedures. He had to turn a kid away when I was there for being underage.”
“Good, where’s your friend’s shop?”
“He actually works out of his garage, but it’s sanitary and well run. He’s really talented.”
“What’s his name?” she asked me. Shit! I should have never brought it up. I’m a fucking idiot. Parolees are not supposed to be hanging out together.
“Greg,” I said.
“Greg what?”
“I don’t know his last name,” I said. It was the truth.
“Where’s his shop?” she said.
“Why the sudden inquisition?” I asked her. “Isn’t the whole point of your job supposed to be rehabilitation? Isn’t that what the R at the end of CDCR stands for? I’m trying my best to do things right. I can’t get a job because of my recent past. Instead of stealing things, I’m trying to start a legitimate business. Why would you try and look for things that might prevent me from doing that?”
She looked at me long and hard and then she said, “There are some parolees who start businesses…like bars for instance and they use said business as a front for less savory businesses, back room businesses. I’d just really hate to see you make that mistake, Dax. I like you.”
It was blaringly obvious that my dad and his bar were the elephant’s in the room that neither of us could or would talk about.
I simply said, “I understand what you’re saying. That’s not me though, I swear.”
“Good,” she said. “Because like I said, I do like you. But, if I find you doing anything the slightest bit illegal, I will not hesitate to violate you.”
I had zero doubts that she would hesitate at all. It was okay though, she wasn’t going to find out.
She didn’t pee test me this time. It was just a quick check-in to make sure I was still where I was supposed to be until I told her about the business and mentioned Greg. Once she gave me the lecture, she let it go and only stayed a few more minutes before saying, “I should get going. I’ll see you here in the next few weeks. I’ll call you.”
She said good-bye to my mother and thanked her for the goodies before she left. She genuinely seemed to like my mom. When I came back in from walking her to the car, my dad was sitting on the couch flipping through the television channels with the remote.
Without turning to look at me he said, “She’s kind of a tight ass.”
I smiled and just so it didn’t seem like I was playing favorites, I said, “Yep, she sure is.”
It was funny though. I didn’t see her that way. I saw her as tough and the thought of her violating me made me a nervous wreck. But, she was doing her job and her job was to keep scumbags off the street. As a citizen and resident of California, I appreciated her efforts.
After my meeting with the Parole officer and passing with flying colors as the good boy, I went into my room and fished my gun out of the far back of the top of the closet. I made sure it was loaded and then I tucked it into the waistband of my jeans. I threw my vest on over it before going back out in the living room. My dad was still on the couch.
“We’re gonna play some pool after a while,” he said when he heard me come through.
“Okay, sounds good. I have a few errands to run. Can I borrow your truck?”
“I don’t care,” he said, still staring at the television. I went into the kitchen to get the keys and found my mom in their reading the paper. When she saw me take the keys down she asked, “Why are you taking the truck?”
“I have a buddy with a table for sell. I’m going to look at it and see if it’ll work for the shop,” I lied.
“Oh good,” she said, going back to her paper.
I kissed her on the cheek and said, “Thanks for entertaining the P.O. again. I’ll see you later.”
“You’re welcome. See you later,” she said. I hated lying…especially to my mother.
*************
I drove back up to the warehouse. I was happy to see that it looked like no one was around. I could outrun someone on my bike, but in my dad’s old flatbed Ford, I doubted it.
I stopped close to the rolling front doors and got out. Since the last time I was there, and Brock and I had gotten into it, someone had put about five more locks on the door. I was sure it was my brother. He wasn’t going to tell anyone that I had been able to waylay him and that I knew the warehouse was full of drugs. He thought if I came back and saw all of those locks on the door, I would just pack up and go home. He not only thought wrong, but putting all of the locks on the warehouse was kind of stupid as well. It was almost the equivalent of putting up a big sign that said, “Hey! Something big is in here, you should break in!” Morons.
I stood several feet back and aimed the gun at the first lock and fired. There were five of them, so it took me five shots, but I eventually got them all off. I rolled open the doors and was happy to see that the crates of heroin were still there. I got back in the truck and backed it in. I left it running while I loaded the crates onto the flatbed. I used the tarp I’d brought and covered them and tied it all down.
I drove to the bar. I knew it was the stupidest move I’d made yet, but my dad had already told me they’d be shooting pool and I just so happened to know no one had used the back door at the far end of the clubhouse in years. I was able to take the back road up to the bar. The dirt one Olivia and I took walks along sometimes.
I backed the truck up close and used the key I’d stolen from my dad’s office to unlock the old rusty lock on the back door. Two at a time and at break-neck speed; I unloaded the crates into my room. I was sweating by the time I got done, more from panic then from heat or exertion. I locked my door up tight and went back to the pickup, locking the outside door up once more.
I drove back up the way I came and around so that it looked like I came into the bar off the main road. I parked in front and went inside. It was a packed house. Cookie was cooking up a storm and two of my dad’s groupies were serving up drinks as fast as they could pour them. They had a young woman in a bikini writing the names of those in the tournament on a dry erase board while they all stared at her ass. Those losers deserved to go to jail, I thought just as I caught Blake’s eye across the room. Terrance was with him and they were both boring holes through me with their glares. I went around behind my dad’s bar and grabbed one of his beers. I strode over to my dad’s table and I sat down.
Fuck ‘em.