Tegan

Marcus lived next door to me. He was a southern California native, extremely petite, and gay. He was very animated, and his personality could only be described as flamboyant. I found him as entertaining to watch as he was to listen to. We hit it off as soon as I moved into the apartment complex. Within a few months, we were best friends.

He worked as a waiter at an upscale restaurant, and spent most of his earnings on clothes. I’d never seen him wear the same outfit twice. He was dressed in brick-red skinny jeans, a blue V-neck tee that fit him as if it were custom tailored, and gray sneakers. His ensemble added some much-needed color to my otherwise dull kitchen.

Although he’d been aware of my wreck since it happened, I had just shared Pee Bee’s clubs name with him. Now sitting across from me at the kitchen table, he frantically searched the internet for any information he could find.

He swept his thumb across the screen of his phone every sixty seconds or so. After five minutes – and a wide array of facial expressions – he looked up and met my curious gaze.

His mouth flopped open. The phone slid from his hand, fell into his lap, and then bounced onto the floor.

“Oh. My. Gawwwwwd,” he said, acting like he had no idea the phone had fallen.

“What?”

“You are soooo not a girl.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Really?” His eyebrow arched. “Who meets a big bad biker that has Filthy Fuckers on his leather and doesn’t Google it? Tell me. Who?”

“My phone was turned off. I couldn’t.”

He stood up and pointed his slender finger at my purse. “You can now. You could have yesterday.”

“I guess I didn’t care. And I don’t care.”

He shot me a sideways look. “Case in point, T-girl. Case in point. You didn’t care. Girls care. They’re curious. You’re an anomaly. A glitch in the otherwise curious world of women. You’ve got a fucked up chromosome or something.”

“Whatever. Why’d you say oh my god?”

“I use it like a conjunction. Be more specific.”

“When you dropped your phone. You said oh my god, and then you dropped it.”

“Oh, then. Well…” He flopped down into his seat, leaned toward the center of the table, and looked me in the eye. “They’re trouble. Big trouble.”

“Who?”

“Them. The filthy Fuckers.”

“Why do you say that?”

He widened his eyes comically. “Let’s see. Extortion. Money laundering. Firearms. Arson. And, oh my god. Murder.”

“Murder?”

He straightened his posture, pointed his index finger at me, and then wagged it once at the instant he spoke. “Murder.”

I shrugged. “Obviously, it wasn’t him, or he’d be in prison. That’s what they do with criminals, they put them in prison.”

“You’re so optimistic it makes me sick. Not sick enough to rid myself of that chicken you just fed me, though. Oh my god. That was soooo good, by the way. Did I tell you that? If I didn’t, I’m sorry. Anyway, see how you do that? Your optimism diverts my thoughts,” he said in one breathless sentence.

“Slow down.” I said with a laugh. “You were talking about--”

“I was talking about your lack of participation in all things feminine.” He relaxed against his chair back and crossed his legs. “Any normal girl would say oh my god, who’d they murder?”

“Stop it. I’m normal.”

He looked me over, and then let out a sigh. “You stop it. You’re adorable, but that’s where the similarities between you and a woman cease to exist.”

“I have no interest in him. I’m caring for his father.”

“What if he comes home with a chainsaw and cuts off your arms?”

“He was a dick, but not that kind of dick.”

“And you know this how?”

“Women’s intuition?”

He coughed out a laugh. “If you were a woman, maybe.”

“I’m sure if one of them did something, he got locked away. If Pee Bee’s out roaming the streets, he’s not a murderer.”

“For what it’s worth, none of them are in prison. They’re suspected of those things, but none of them have been proven. Yet. Their little gang is listed on the federal OMG website. That’s where I got the information.”

“The federal government has an OMG website?” I laughed. “OMG.”

“OMG as in Outlaw Motorcycle Gang. Not the conjunction.”

“Oh.”

“That’s it?” His face contorted. “No more questions?”

“I don’t care,” I said. “His dad’s kind of funny, and it’s a great job.”

“His father probably helps hide the bodies.”

I laughed out loud. “He’s confined to a chair. He can’t even walk.”

“I bet he knows things.”

“He’s his father, I’m sure he does.”

He lowered his eyes to the table. After a few silent seconds, he let out a gasp and his eyes went wide. “Ask him.”

“Jesus. Settle down. Ask him what?”

“Ask the invalid father about the murdering son.”

“Where do you come up with this stuff?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. Are you going to ask?”

“No.”

“Don’t you have an adventurous bone in your body?”

I did. But, I gave people the benefit of the doubt. My perceptions were solely based on my experiences from what I saw or experienced first-hand, not on what others said. So far, Pee Bee had been nothing more than an asshole. Considering what I’d done to his motorcycle, I wasn’t surprised.

“I don’t care enough to ask. I’m sure I’ll find out plenty just by being there.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, and then glanced at his watch. An ear-piercing shriek shot from his mouth and he jumped up. “I’m going to be late. Bye.”

I stood. “Date?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Brian. The one with the dick like a banana.”

“I thought--”

“So did I.” He opened his arms. “But, I’m a sucker for a dominant male.”

Brian was an old boyfriend that had been abusive to Marcus. After several months of the offensive behavior, they split up. Or so I thought.

“Be careful,” I said, hugging him as I spoke.

He kissed my cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He walked to the door, pulled it open, and looked over his shoulder. “And stop taking the hormones, or I’m going to have to find another friend.”

“Goodbye, Marcus.”

“I was kidding about the hormones.” He laughed. “Toodles, T-Girl.”