Chapter Twelve
Dax
8 years later
“Hey, that looks good.”
I looked up and saw the Sheriff leaning across the partition to look at the tattoo I was working on.
I smiled. “Thanks, Sheriff. You really shouldn’t do that though. People get tattoos in private places sometimes. They might not take too kindly to having you gawking at them without their permission.”
“Sorry Dax,” he said. “Sorry Celeste,” he said to the young woman whose lower back tattoo I was just finishing up.
“It’s okay, Sheriff,” she told him.
“There you go, Celeste, all finished,” I told her, holding out a hand mirror for her.
She grabbed the mirror from my hand and used it to look at what I’d done. She squealed and said, “Oh my goodness, Dax! I love it. You’re so good. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. Here, let me cover it before you go.”
I got her all covered up and sent her on her way. I heard her and Sheriff Talley talking out in the lobby while I was cleaning up. I thought back to a time when the sight or the sound of a law enforcement person or a siren would set my teeth on edge. Eight years later, it was what it was…a group of people who were on their way to try and straighten out a mess that some other people made. Some are good and some are bad, on both sides. I knew that I hadn’t done anything that would interest them, but there was also no one around who may have made them think I had.
I washed my hands and went out front. The sheriff was still waiting for me.
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” I asked him.
“My boy wants a tattoo for his twenty-first birthday. I said no and I had a big old fit about it just to throw him off. But I wanted to see if you had a gift certificate I could buy to stick in a card for him so it’s a surprise.”
“Absolutely,” I told him. I laid a folder on the counter with a list of the sizes and body parts and prices and asked, “Do you have any idea where he wants it, or what he wants?”
“No idea,” he said.
“You want to just get one for what you’re planning on spending then and if he picks out a smaller one, I can reimburse him or you…”
“That’ll work,” he said.
He paid me and I gave him the certificate. Then he spent another fifteen minutes talking about anything and everything in town. He was a great guy, but he was worse than a lonely old woman when it came to gossiping.
At last, he looked at his watch and as if I were the one keeping him he said, “I’m sorry Dax but I’m going to have to cut this short. I have a staff meeting at one.”
“All right Sheriff, thanks for the business.”
“Just make sure and give him something that’ll make me proud,” he said with a wink as he went out the door.
I couldn’t help but smile again. Sometimes it was like living in Mayberry around here.
I was finally able to get my lunch out of the fridge and take it out front to the little bistro table. I had bought it at a yard sale and set it up in front of my place. I sat down and opened my iced tea, took out my sandwich and began to eat. As I ate, I looked around at the little stucco buildings around me and the hills that looked like they were draped in a thick carpet of color. The wildflowers were in full bloom across them. On the other side of me was a rocky, rugged mountain with no pretty flowers but some awesome hiking trails.
The first time I saw that place, I didn’t think it was pretty at all. All I saw was the dust and the tumbleweeds. Because the sun was already going down behind the mountain, the mountain ranges were dark and the flowers were closed up for the cool night. I was always shocked the next day when I looked at the same mountain and it was bursting with color. The lack of plants and trees had been an illusion as well. They were everywhere, they just looked different there.
I began to like to get up early. I took a hike up to the Lost Horse Mine and made the six and a half mile walk or if I had more time I’d go up further to Carey’s Castle. It was a bunch of old abandoned caverns and walking around them and exploring the area brought the little boy out in me. One day, I’d bring my own kids up there. That’s why I was there mostly, it seemed like it would be a great place to raise a family. So far, after being there six years I hadn’t discovered anything that said otherwise. The people were nice, the landscape was beautiful, my tattoo shop was thriving and for the first time I felt true peace in my heart.
Joshua Tree didn’t have any outlaw biker clubs. They had one that was made up of a bunch of working class guys who liked to ride over to Nevada and gamble for a weekend every now and again. They did toy runs at Christmas and they had Easter Egg Hunts in the spring. It was a whole different world there from where I grew up, but that was exactly why I was there.
My dad didn’t do any jail time over the shooting of Blake. Enough of what happened was on the tape and Blake had also fired his gun three times and my dad fired his only once when the D.A. investigated. They filed it under self-defense and slapped a few fines on him for not having a permit for the gun.
Terrance and Brock both turned state’s evidence against their brethren. They both only ended up doing a couple of years in prison, but in the meantime, the club was completely dismantled. My mother told my dad that it was time for him to retire. He was tired, and the club was a mess so he didn’t argue with her. After I moved, they sold the house and bought an RV. They spend their time traveling the United States together. My dad still rode. He’d die the day he had to stop, but at least he started to just take the bike off the trailer and ride until he was tired and then he got back in the RV with my mom. My mom was happier than I’d ever seen her. She finally didn’t have the sins of my father and his two sons weighing her down.
Olivia’s uncle actually kept the Smokin’ Jokers name alive. He stepped in and took over for my dad, and then he appointed his own officers and they began recruiting. He turned it into a respectable club that didn’t even dabble in anything illegal. Instead, they volunteered for community service activities and they worked with foster kids and the elderly. He fixed up the bikes and as they’re out on their runs, they’re a living advertisement for the work he did. People brought their bikes in for modifications from all over the state and his little business throve.
I was just finishing up my lunch when my phone rang. I looked at the face and saw that it was my mom.
“Hey Mom, what’s up?”
“I was just letting you know we’re getting closer. We just pulled into Colorado. We’ll be here a few days and then keep on trekking west.”
“That’s good, how’s Colorado?”
“Oh it’s gorgeous, your father loves it. If we weren’t coming to see you, he’d make me stay here longer. We shouldn’t be more than a few more weeks,” she said. They had gone all the way to the East Coast and they were on their trek back.
“Okay Mom, looking forward to seeing you. Drive safe and have fun.”
“We will. I love you, Dax.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
I ended the call and packed up the trash from my lunch just as my next appointment arrived. This guy wanted a Gecko on his arm…there was no accounting for taste.
“Hey Frank, how are things at the pharmacy today?”
“Busy, busy,” he said. “How about you Dax, how’s business?”
“It’s great,” I told him, honestly. It really was.