Jim sat on his new ride in a remote dirt canyon off I5, just south of the Washington border, smoking a cigarette and scowling at the dust and dirt already marring his baby. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
Boxer chuckled. “She really is a sexy ride, man. Sorry this had to be her first time out.”
Jim shrugged. “I took her for a short spin earlier. I just wish I had a name for her before we both get buried.”
“Rita. The most beautiful woman I ever met was named Rita. She had a talented pair of lips, giant melons, and a waist the size of my wrist. I could wrap one of my hands all the way around that waist, but I couldn’t hold her tits with both.” Boxer shook his head, his eyes misty with distant memory.
Amused, Jim asked, “So you think I should name my bike Rita?”
“Of course! That bike deserves the name of the most beautiful woman in the world.” Boxer was dead serious, and Jim searched his brain, trying to remember Rita. He couldn’t remember either of them ever being interested in a woman without telling the other. But he didn’t remember anyone named Rita.
It didn’t matter. “I can’t,” Jim said. “My grandmother’s name was Rita. I can’t name my ride after a woman who took thirty minutes to shuffle across the living room. It would be an insult.” He patted the bike’s side lovingly. “I was thinking Sheila. It’s nice and feminine but strong, too.”
“I guess Sheila works.” Boxer’s disgruntled reply made Jim laugh out loud, though the humor was short-lived. He could hear the rumble of bikes in the distance, and he wondered if it would be his last laugh. He reached back to touch the gun at his back, and then down to his boot, where he’d hidden a Bowie knife. It was all the security he had, and he considered texting Susan. But that was desperate, and he was out of time anyway—the group of Diablos Blancos had already come around the bend and pulled into the canyon.
Jim swung off the bike, lining up with the others, shoulders squared. They could start out with all the civility in the world, but something was going to break down, and Jim was ready. He tossed the butt of his cigarette into the dirt and watched the cloud of dust fall back to the earth as the group of men came to a stop in front of them.
Rechoncho was the first to dismount, followed by Sauza. The two men looked so much alike it was frightening, but Rechoncho’s face was round with fat, his stomach bulging over his belt, whereas Sauza gave the impression of having just stepped out of the gym. Rechoncho moved slowly to stand just feet in front of Ari, and their eyes locked, each wearing a confident smile.
“Hola, gringo. What have you for me?” Rechoncho grunted.
Jim watched the line of Mexicans, but he cast a quick glance at Ari, catching the scowl on his face as he spoke. “I got shit. You called this meeting. What do you have for me?”
“You offer us ten percent,” Sauza said, his eyes locking on Jim’s. Jim gave a short nod. “My brother feels this is insulting. But we are not greedy, ese. We don’t ask much, you know. Only what the job is worth.”
“I told you we weren’t going to negotiate,” Ari argued.
Jim cleared his throat. “What is it you want, Sauza? What do you think the job is worth?” If he left this up to Ari, none of them were going to make it home, except in body bags.
Rechoncho laughed, a deep, ugly sound. “Hey, jefe, I like your man here. He has some brains. It would be stupid not to listen and make me blow them out.”
Ari stepped forward, his hand at his back, and Jim grabbed his arm. “We’re listening,” he said, as much for Ari’s benefit as for the Diablos.
Sauza nodded. “Fifteen percent. We want $75,000 per run, and we will be satisfied. That’s a bargain. We work with the Santos for deliveries down south, and we pay them twenty percent. Think of it as a peace offering.”
“Fuck that!” Ari exploded, a vein in his temple throbbing visibly in the dim light of sunset. “It’s ten percent or nothing, asshole!”
“Shut up!” Jim hollered, shoving Ari back, the sound of guns being pulled loud behind him. He rounded and faced the line of Diablos, their guns in hand. His men stood in the same position. He drew his and Ari’s, not trusting his leader to hold his temper.
“Maybe you will reconsider your answer, jefe,” Rechoncho said. He raised his gun and pointed it at Ari. “My men are fast. They will kill your men after I shoot you and before anyone can kill me for shooting you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Jim told him. “Your request is reasonable enough to take into consideration. The problem is, we don’t have all our men here to make the decision. We gave you a chance to take our offer back to the group, Sauza. All I want is the same courtesy.”
Sauza gave a nod of acknowledgement. “Go back to your clubhouse, talk to your men, and let us know. You have 72 hours to respond. If you agree, we will meet you back here with your first shipment. If you don’t, things will not go so smoothly for you.” He made a show of putting his gun away, and the others followed suit. Jim nodded to his men to do the same, and he tucked both pistols into his pants and shot Ari a warning look.
Jim waited for all the rival gang to mount their rides and drive out in a line. Digger and Donnie started to climb on their bikes, but Jim waved them off, wanting the sound of those engines out of hearing range before they even considered leaving. He lit a cigarette; smoking should kill plenty of time. He stood there and tried to relax as he pulled out his phone and cursed at the call he’d missed from Susan.
He heard Boxer groan and raised his gaze. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Man, you got through this whole thing and didn’t lose your cool. Now, you’re staring at your phone looking all kinds of pathetic, and I’m guessing you want to talk to your girl.” Boxer shook his head. “What is it about that woman that keeps you so interested?”
“Nothing, Boxer. Let it go.” How could he tell Boxer when he wasn’t sure himself? “My head’s on straight, whether you believe it or not.”
“Whatever.” He leaned in and spoke more quietly. “What the hell was that, anyway? You’re catching hell from Ari as soon as we get home. I hope you know that.”
Jim shrugged. “I can take it. He made a bad call, and he almost got us all killed. If we go to war with these guys, we at least need some sort of advantage. Numbers, bigger weapons, cover. Out here, we’re asking to die. All I did was make a call that kept us alive for another 72 hours.” He glanced around Boxer’s huge frame to see Ari kick at the dirt while he cursed and shouted. “He’s losing it, bro. Can’t you see it?”
“He’s got a death wish or something, that’s for sure.” Boxer punched his shoulder playfully. “You were there yourself not so long ago, I think. But seriously, what are we supposed to do about it? We’ve already voted, and the vote said we were going to the Diamondbacks when the Diablos turned down the offer. We can’t go back and vote again.”
“Yes, we can,” Jim argued. “They didn’t refuse. They negotiated. And if you’d had the balls to vote against Ari, we wouldn’t be considering those skinheads as an alternative. So, we go back and vote on the new deal. It’s not so much different, and I think it’ll pass. Ari’s going to freak out, but it’s what’s best for the club.”
Boxer bared his teeth, and Jim didn’t wait for the impending fight. “Let’s ride!” he called and threw his cigarette aside before climbing on his bike and revving the engine. All he wanted right now was to get home, take a shower, and see if Susan minded a midnight call. He had a feeling her arms – and legs – would be open to welcome him.