P-Nut

The storage container was amongst a few dozen others that were stored behind a construction company that a Hells Angel owned.

I unlocked the padlock and paused before I let it fall open. “You sure you want to do this?”

“We’re in this together,” she said. “If you want an answer, I need to talk to him.”

I liked her response. She was in it for the long haul, there was no doubt. To think I had a woman helping me with the decision on what to do with an ATF agent who had the potential to threaten the livelihood of the club spoke volumes of my respect for Joey.

It was a new territory for me, but it felt right.

I pulled the door open.

She peered inside. “It smells better than I expected,” she whispered.

“I wipe the fucker off with Baby Wipes pretty much every day, and he takes baths with that antibacterial pump soap. I might not be a pro, but I damned sure ain’t a novice.”

Agent fucktard was sitting in his chair at the end of the container. With his long growth of beard and unwashed hair, he had somewhat of a mountain man look going on. My guess was that we had 30-45 minutes before sundown, and I hoped whatever Joey had to do could be resolved before then.

“That’s him. He looks like shit but don’t let that fool you.”

“Are we going in together?”

I gave a nod. “Follow me.”

I stepped into the container, and she followed right behind me. Halfway to where he sat, I gave fair warning. “One fucking word without being asked a question, and I’ll shove a zucchini squash up your ass.”

He nodded.

He’d been exposed to me and my ways for long enough that he knew better than to fuck with me. When we got close enough that he could see clearly, he exchanged glances between us.

Eventually, he fixed his eyes on her.

“Quit looking at her, you fucking turd. I’ll spoon your fucking eyes out and feed ‘em to the vultures.”

He looked away.

“He doesn’t tip the chair over?” she asked.

“Welded to the floor.”

“And the sports cup with the four-foot long straw. Did you fashion that?”

I grinned. “Made it myself. It keeps him from banging around. If he tips it over, he can’t get a drink until I get back, so he knows better than to thrash around in here. I just set it on the floor at his feet and he leans over when he wants a drink.”

She looked at the restraints on his wrists and then on his feet. “Pro job on the restraints.”

“Thanks.”

She grabbed the folding chair that was leaning against the wall, unfolded it, and sat down. “How many years were you in the ATF?”

He swallowed, and then answered. “Two, with training.”

“How many as an active field agent?”

“Seven months.”

“Have any regrets?”

He looked at me.

“Don’t look at me, you piece of shit,” I snarled. “I’ll put Tabasco in the tip of your dick again. Answer her question.”

He looked at her. “I’ve got quite a few.”

“Care to share?” she asked.

“Speak freely?” he asked.

She gave a nod. “Sure.”

“I took this detail, and I wish like hell I wouldn’t have.” He swallowed hard, leaned forward, and wrapped his lips around the straw. After taking a short drink of the water, he continued. “I thought it would be different. Criminals running dope. Trafficking women. Murdering anyone who got in their way. Once I got accepted to prospect, I saw that wasn’t the case.”

“Why didn’t you walk away?”

“Pressure, I suppose. Desire to succeed. Something. Those aren’t excuses, they’re observations.”

“Okay.” She looked him over, and then looked at me. “Did you really put tobacco in his dick?”

“Nope. In it.”

She fixed her eyes on him. He looked to the side and raised his eyebrows.

“Did you poke squash in his butt, too?”

“Cucumbers.”

“Oh wow.”

She cleared her throat. “Okay. Here’s where we are. You’re going to die. Tomorrow. You’ll be tossed off a bridge. It’s going to be ruled a suicide, because you’ve got PTSD. Your wife will get nothing, you’ll be a statistic, and nobody will care. Life will continue, and about the time you start pushing up lilies at the cemetery, your wife will be screwing one of your ATF buddies. He’s probably comforting her now while she gives him a blowie in the park. Now. Convince me in fifty words or less why you shouldn’t die.”

He took a drink and then stared at his feet.

So far, Joey was impressive.

He took another drink, looked at her, and sighed. “On my God, my country, and my Corps, I swear these words. I will testify that I planted Meathead’s pistol, and that I’ve been wandering the desert aimlessly this entire time. I’ll claim PTSD got the best of me. Meathead will go free, and you’ll never see me again.”

She looked at me. “He did it in forty-nine. We need to go outside and talk.”

I looked at him. “One fucking peep, and the tarantulas are coming out. We clear?”

He nodded.

“You’ve got tarantulas?”

“Got ‘em at the pet store in Temecula. Big fuckers.”

She shook her head.

We walked out of the container, and to the side.

“Didn’t you say Crip was a SEAL?”

It seemed an odd question, but I responded nonetheless. “Yep.”

“Call him.”

“About what?”

SEALs and Marines are both in the department of the Navy, so Crip should know the answer to the question.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“If a Marine swears on God, Country, and Corps, is it the truth or a lie.”

My eyes shot wide. “That’s what we’re going to go off?”

“I’ll tell you after he responds.”

I pulled out my phone and called Crip. He answered on the third ring.

“Brother Nut. What can I do you for?”

“Quick question, Prez.”

“I’m listening.”

“If a Marine swears on his God, Country and…” I looked at Joey. She mouthed the word Corps. “Corps, is he lying or telling the truth.”

“He swore on all three?”

“Yep.”

“Is he a veteran? A real Marine?”

“Yep.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

“Would you bet your life on it?”

“I have, and I will.”

“What percentage of the time?”

“From a Marine vet? 100%, why?”

“I’m asking the questions, not you,” I said. “That’s all I got. Bye.”

I hung up and turned to Joey. “He says we’re golden.”

“Let him go.”

“Just like that?”

She nodded. “Just like that.”

“You think I should trust him?”

“I think we both need to learn to trust. If this goes the way I think it will, it’ll do us both a lot of good. If it doesn’t, I’ll be your alibi.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll be your alibi. Whatever he says you did, I’ll say he’s a liar, and that you were with me. I’m pretty sure we can get Josh to agree to give the same testimony, considering how afraid of you he is. All we need to do it get rid of this trailer.”

“Container.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“You want to tell him, or you want me to?”

“You can. He’s probably got an attachment to you.”

“Motherfucker better not.”

She laughed. “Come on.”

As the sun began to lower itself behind the distant mountains, we walked around the trailer and stepped inside.

“Well, we did rock, paper, scissors, and I won,” I said. “She wanted to put a bullet in your head, and I wanted to believe you. So, tomorrow, after you and I agree on some terms, I’m going to let you go.”

I expected him to cheer, start crying, or somehow show the joy that I was sure that he felt. Instead, he simply sat and stared.

“What you got nothing to say?”

“You said not to say anything unless I was asked.”

“Speak free or whatever you said earlier.”

He took a drink of water, looked at Joey, and nodded. “Thank you.”

“For fucking what?” I asked. “She wanted to kill you.”

He looked at me. “You won’t regret this. All a man has is his word, I gave you mine. It’s all I’ve got.”

“Listen, motherfucker,” I said. “I don’t want to swap spit, make s’mores, or sing kumbaya. You’re being freed because she believes you. If it was up to me, I’d be shoving veggies up your ass until you were 64 years old. I’ll be back tomorrow, and if you spill that cup, you’ll be walking to Temecula a pretty thirsty man.”

I turned to Joey. “You ready?”

She gave a nod.

We walked out of the trailer, and closed the door. As I locked it, she looked at me and laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“Tarantulas? Tabasco? Cucumbers? Now I know why they named you P-Nut.”

I doubted she did, but I entertained her anyway.

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“P for Percy, and Nut because you’re crazy.”

“But you love me anyway?”

“With all my heart,” she said.

We strapped on our helmets, hopped on the bike, and rode toward the sunset. In a matter of minutes, it was pitch black. The clear sky was filled with stars. In the distance, I noticed one shoot across the sky and flicker out.

And, while the ATF agent undoubtedly thanked his lucky stars that Joey made an appearance in his life, I did the same.