Smokey

It had been a week since I’d seen Sandy last, and Cholo and I were at a foreclosure property that he’d purchased to flip for a profit. I’d expressed my disappointment in knowing I would never see her again, and Cholo seemed shocked by the decision.

While I took the last of my measurements, he loomed over me with his hands on his hips.

“You’re a fucking weirdo,” he said.

I extended the end of the tape measure to the wall, made note of the dimension, and wrote it down.

“Says who?” I asked over my shoulder.

“Says me.”

“If I valued your opinion, I might give a shit about that remark. But I don’t, so I don’t.”

“You ever think that having a woman around your daughter might help matters?”

Cholo wasn’t the Filthy Fuckers Sergeant-at-Arms, but he was the club’s enforcer. A bald-headed former boxer who was built like a body builder, he wasn’t a man to get sideways with.

Regardless, his comment hit a nerve, and I was ready to fight him, if need be.

I stood, clipped the tape measure to my pocket, and shot him a laser sharp glare. “And what in the absolute fuck makes you think matters around my house need help?”

“I’m just saying--”

“And, I’m just saying that you better back the fuck up, or you and I are gonna tussle, motherfucker. Don’t fuck with my daughter. She ain’t the club’s business, and friend or not, she sure as fuck ain’t any of yours.”

He tugged against the bill of his cap and shot me a look. “God damn, Smoke. You said you liked that Sandy chick, but that you weren’t going to see her any more. Lex says she’s a damned good chick. I was just trying to say…” He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Fuck it. I said what I had to say. No disrespect intended.”

I gave a nod. “None taken. I’m short tempered right now. Sorry.”

“Something you want to talk about?”

I knelt, took another measurement, and then wrote it down. “Daughter turns seventeen in three weeks.”

“Is that a big deal?”

“Around my house, it is.”

“Why’s that?”

“She starts dating when she’s seventeen.”

“Kind of a late start, huh?”

I looked at him, cocked my eyebrow, and gave him one of Eddie’s famous stink eyes.

He raised his hands in the air and turned his palms toward me. “Sounds like the perfect age to start dating to me.”

I glanced at the sheet of paper, did the math, and looked up. “Fifteen grand even. Don’t fuck with me about it, Cholo. That tile that’s got to come up in the back bathroom is asbestos, and there ain’t another flooring contractor that’ll do this job for a penny under eighteen. Make a counter offer, and you can find another tile man.”

“Fifteen’s fine,” he said with a nod.

I stood, picked up my notepad, and wiped the dust from my jeans. “Sixteen is too fucking young, if you ask me. And, making her wait until she’s eighteen’s is cruel. So, at my house, seventeen’s the age for dating. She told me the other night I was a sadist.”

“Your daughter did?”

I nodded. “Yep. Said preventing her from going on dates was whittling away at the fiber of her being, and the end result was that I’d pummeled her confidence into a pile of mush. She compared what was left of it to a bowl of grits.”

His brow wrinkled. “What the fuck are grits?”

“Boiled ground corn. Or hominy. Nasty shit, if you ask me. It’s a southern thing.”

“Like oatmeal?”

I shrugged. “Cream of Wheat.”

“You smashed her self-esteem into Cream of Wheat, huh?”

“She said I pummeled it. Same difference, I suppose.”

“Was she serious?”

“Nope. She’s like me, if you can imagine that. She’s dramatic, full of shit, and rarely cracks a smile. People that don’t know her think she’s serious, but she’s laughing at ‘em on the inside.”

“Sounds like you.”

“She’s a good kid. But in three weeks I’m gonna start interviewing her potential dates, and it scares the shit out of me. I’ll have my pistol in my lap when I talk to ‘em, though.”

“I don’t envy you, that’s for sure.”

“Find out what you and Lex are having yet?”

“Nope. Can’t for a while. Too early, the doc said. I think it’s a girl, though.”

I nodded. “Girls are cool. Easy to get attached to ‘em if you ask me.”

“A boy would be cool, too.” After gazing down at the discolored tile for a moment, he looked up. “You saying you wouldn’t love a boy the same way?”

“The way I said that sounded bad, huh?”

He chuckled, tugged against the bill of his cap, and looked at me. “Yeah.”

“You love Lex, right?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Can you think of anyone that could replace her? Like, step into your life, take her place, and satisfy you as much?”

“That’s a stupid fucking question,” he snapped back. “Fuck no.”

“Well, you can take that love and multiply it times a thousand, and that’d be a fucking molecule of the love you feel for your kid. Just wait, you’ll see. Boy or girl don’t matter, you’ll love ‘em, and you’ll get attached to ‘em, too.”

He lifted the bill of his cap. “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense, Brother.”

“Girls need to be sheltered from fuckers like us. Protected, or whatever. Providing that protection draws us closer to ‘em, but it’s different than love. It’s hard to explain. A parent ends up thriving for that provision. To be the one who they turn to when they need something, or when they’re in pain. Girls always need someone to go to. Someone they can count on.”

“Makes sense,” he said. “Kind of.”

“We act out of love naturally, but I think it’s the interaction that we become attached to. The conversations we have, and seeing their growth. Bottles to baby food. Crawling to walking. Talking. Learning how to read. Middle school to high school. Oh, and diapers to potty training.” I chuckled. “Wait till your kid drops a fuckin’ log in the hallway and doesn’t tell you, and then you step on it. I about broke my fuckin’ neck one night on one of Eddie’s random turds.”

“Not looking forward to that.”

“You say that now, but just wait. A day will come when you’ll wish like hell you had a shitty diaper to change. And, not having it’ll make you sick.”

For me, that day had long since passed.

And, I wished like hell it hadn’t.