Erin

 

I’ve often wondered what it would be like when I finally fell for somebody as an adult. When I was in high school, I guess I was in love with my boyfriend, but it clearly wasn’t serious enough for me to want to give up my virginity to him. And I’d been out with guys in the past, but they never really stuck.

 

Then out comes this guy with easily the silliest name of any guy I’d ever dated. I mean, “Slash”? Seriously? What does that even mean? And let’s face it: the way we met was… unique, to say the least. But there is something about him that makes me feel good, like I could be safe with him, like he is always going to be looking out for me.

 

Something with Slash feels right. I’ve never been in any kind of romantic relationship where everything has just clicked like that, let alone someone I’d slept with. And he genuinely seems to like me, too! Maybe I’m loading too much onto one date, but for the time being, I’m just basking in the glow of what feels like an amazing thing starting.

 

I go into work the next day with a big smile on my face. Naturally, Monica notices.

 

“Somebody got some last night,” she teases me, as if she knows some private information.

 

“I did not,” I insist, though I blush. “I just… I just had a really great night. That’s all.”

 

“Hey, no judgments here, sister.” She laughs. “I hope you did get laid. You need it, girl.”

 

“What I need, is to get those guys over there a couple of whiskey sours.” I begin mixing the drinks, but I can’t keep the smile off my face.

 

Monica nods knowingly. “Whatever you say, Erin. Whatever you say.”

 

“Hey, Mon,” I say suddenly, thinking about my conversation with Slash last night. “That guy Marcelo, the guy you set me up with a couple of weeks ago… how well do you know him?”

 

“Shh!” she hisses out, going uncharacteristically serious. “Do you want to get us killed?”

 

“What?” I ask innocently. “He was nice to me that night, and I just wanted to thank him. Does he hang out at that Red Club very often?”

 

“Jesus, Erin,” she snaps again, “show some goddamn restraint, would you?”

 

“What did I do?”

 

“Nothing… nothing,” she answers, heaving a sigh. “Look, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that… well… Marcelo and I… we used to go out.”

 

“Right, I’d gathered that.”

 

“But he was always really secretive about what he did,” she explains. “We only dated for a few months, but there were times he came back to his place with blood on his clothes – you know, stuff like that. I tell you, Erin, he’s dangerous, and you need to be careful. Don’t go crushing on a biker guy like that.”

 

“What do you mean?” I reply, indignant. “I’m not crushing on Marcelo.”

 

“Well, that’s good. So why do you want to see him?”

 

I weigh how I’m going to answer very carefully in my mind. Finally, after a too-long pregnant pause, I answer, “It’s like I said; I want to thank him for the other night. He was very kind to me when I was insanely nervous, and he made me feel comfortable.”

 

“Oh God,” Monica says, suddenly blanching, “you’re not… you’re not telling me – he’s not the one you lost your…” Her voice goes into a whisper: “... your v-card to, is he?”

 

“What? No! No, not even a little.”

 

“So, who was it then?”

 

“None of your business.”

 

“Was it the guy who came in here the other night and left with you?” When she sees the curious look on my face, she answers my unspoken question: “Yeah, I heard about that. Deonte said some big burly guy came in and started talking to you, and you ended up leaving with him. So, a match made in heaven, was it?”

 

“It was…” I blush again, not really knowing what to say. “He’s a good guy, Mon. He even took me out on a real date last night. He got his mother to stay with my mom – his mom’s a nurse.”

 

“Well that’s great,” Monica says with a note of doubt in her voice, “but don’t kid yourself about him, okay? If he was at that auction, and if he’s a biker, he’s not a good guy.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means, these guys are into serious shit, Erin. I know he might seem like a good guy, but trust me – all of these guys are into shit they shouldn’t be. And that can be deadly. I’m just looking out for you, okay?”

 

I nod. “I know you are, but I’m telling you, this one is different. He’s not into any of the shit you’re talking about. He’s just a good guy.”

 

“If you say so. For your sake, I hope to God you’re right.”

 

I am right – if I do say so myself. I know I am. I have to be.

 

The rest of the day passes without much incident. By nightfall, I’m itching to get out. I promised Slash I’d go and talk to Marcelo, and that’s exactly what I plan to do. Since Monica’s clearly not going to be much help, I decide to go to the Red Club alone. I know where it is, and I know what I need to do.

 

So, I go home, get my mom washed and off to bed, and then put on the same leather pants and black top I had on the other night before I head over to the Red Club. I rehearse my story in my head – I’m looking for work, and I’m thinking I can make more money with you than I can doing doubles at the bar I work at. If he’s as kind tonight as he was the other night, he’ll have something for me, I’m certain of it.

 

I park my car about half a block down and walk into the Red Club. The bar is dingier than I remember, although the night I came in here is a bit of a blur. There are only a few guys in the bar right now – the rest must be out on the streets doing something nefarious, the way Monica said they would be. None of them is Marcelo.

 

I sidle up to the bar, and the bartender comes up to me with a smile on his face.

 

“You lost?” he asks with a grin.

 

I shake my head. “I’m looking for Marcelo,” I say, doing my absolute best to hide my nervousness. “I’m sure a smart guy like you can tell me where he is.”

 

I’m a bit surprised when he just shrugs. “He’s here, but what would a pretty thing like you want with an ugly mug like that son of a bitch?”

 

“That’s between me and Marcelo,” I say with a teasing smile. I’m pulling this off, at least as best I can.

 

“Well how about I get you a drink, and we can talk it over?” he offers. “What’ll ya have?”

 

I say the first thing that pops into my mind. “Whiskey sour.”

 

He laughs, displaying a big grin that shows off several missing teeth. “Now, I can’t tell you the last time somebody asked me to make a properly mixed drink. Lady, you’re all right. How about I get you a shot of whiskey instead?” I nod, indicating that that will be fine. “Here you go,” he says, pouring out a shot for me. I take some cash out to pay him, but he waves me off. “This one’s on the house, especially if you’re a friend of Marcelo.”

 

“Who’s a friend of Marcelo?” a voice asks from behind me. “Because as I’m sure y’all are well aware, Marcelo don’t have any friends.”

 

I swivel my chair around to face the owner of the voice.

 

It’s Marcelo.

 

Of course it’s Marcelo.

 

“Hi.” I wave, trying to use my nerves to make me look cute and still innocent. “I don’t know if you remember me, but…”

 

He sits down at the bar, and the bartender immediately pours some whiskey into a glass and hands it to him.

 

“I remember you,” Marcelo says. “From the v-card auction. Erin, right? How’d it go for you?” He smiles, but it’s not at all kind. He wants to know the juicy details.

 

“It was… very nice,” I say judiciously. “The guy who won me was very kind to me.”

 

He flinches, almost like a reaction to me praising another guy, which makes me realize flattery is probably the best way to go with this.

 

“Almost as kind as you were to me that night.”

 

This perks him back up. “Well, you looked like you needed it,” he explains. “That was some good whiskey, huh?”

 

I nod. “Better than this shit,” I say, wincing as I down the shot in one gulp. I resist the urge to gag and be sick all over the floor in front of us.

 

“Right on, sister.” The bartender laughs from the other end of the bar. “You’re into it now!”

 

“Can it, Cooper,” Marcelo hisses out at him, looking down his nose to the end of the bar with a scowl. Then he turns back to me and says, “Well, tell me, Erin, what brings you back to the Red Club tonight?”

 

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

 

“Thank me?” he asks, almost startled. “For what?”

 

“You gave me the courage to, you know, do a good job,” I tell him, trying to lay the flattery schtick on thickly. “If it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve chickened out. But I didn’t. And it turned out to be super helpful. My mom’s sick, and…”

 

“Sick?” His eyebrows rise – though I can’t tell if it’s because he’s truly compassionate or because he’s trying to get into my pants. Oh, who am I kidding? It’s probably both. “What’s wrong with her?”

 

“Cancer. Stage 4. She’s in hospice, but the bills have been mounting, and…”

 

“... and you needed some cash to stay afloat,” he finishes for me. I nod. “Of course,” he continues. “I totally get that. And I’ll bet your mom is in a world of pain right now, too, isn’t she?”

 

I nod again, feeling sick to my stomach, this time from more than the whiskey. I hate using my mom and her illness like this. “She’s on a bunch of pain meds,” I explain, “but they only help for a limited time, and—”

 

“Hang on,” he says, holding up a hand, “pain meds, huh? Like, scripts? Pills?”

 

“Yeah,” I say, starting to connect the dots and see what he’s really interested in, “both. Why do you ask?”

 

“Well, you say you need some cash, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Darlin’, there’s a big ol’ market for pain pills in this neighborhood. Seems like everybody’s taking something just to get through the day. On the street, scripts can fetch a pretty fortune, especially if it’s the good stuff – like what you get when you’ve got Stage 4 cancer.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying, if you could get me a doctor’s prescription and a handful of some of your mom’s pills, I could get you a lot of money – probably nearly as much as you got for your night of passion with that jackass who bid on you. What do you say? You want to go into business together?”

 

***

 

“I knew that smarmy son of a bitch was up to something like this,” Slash tells me later over dinner. “He’s a no-good pill-pusher. Probably has half the town addicted. So, what did you say? What did you tell him?”

 

“I told him I’d have to see what I can do,” I reply honestly.

 

“You WHAT?!” Slash roars out, and for the first time, he seems like a genuinely scary guy – like he’d be good muscle for an MC. To his credit, he composes himself quickly and tries again. “Erin, Marcelo is up to no good. He’s just trying to use you. All he’s interested in are the pills.”

 

“So what?” I say, my own blood pressure rising. “Slash, do you know how underwater my mom and I are with bills? Why do you think I came to the auction that night to begin with? It’s because I was desperate. And despite how much it helped me out, I’m still desperate. Even with the best health insurance, cancer is an expensive illness. And we don’t have the best health insurance.”

 

“So, what, you’re just gonna give your mom’s medicine to him?” Slash demands. “That seems pretty shitty – and pretty unlike you.”

 

“You barely know me,” I shoot back. “And besides, I have no intention of bringing my mom’s medicine to him. I’d get a new prescription filled and bring that. I’m not stupid.”

 

“Holy shit.” He rubs his chin almost thoughtfully. “You’re actually considering doing this, aren’t you?”

 

“Why shouldn’t I?”

 

“Because you’re not a criminal,” he tells me quietly as he looks me over with something resembling disdain.

 

“Oh, and I suppose you are?” I practically yell at him.

 

He heaves a sigh and doesn’t answer me directly. Instead, he says, “Look, I’m just trying to look out for you. That’s why I got my mom to come in. I want the best for you.”

 

“Why, Slash? What? Are you going to just hand over another ten grand so I can get out of debt?”

 

“No,” he says, his voice hushed to almost nonexistence. “No, I’m not going to do that. I can’t do that. You took me for nearly everything I had.”

 

“Hey,” I say with a lopsided grin, “that’s your own fault.”

 

“It was worth it. I’m just saying, if I could help, I would help. I’m doing what I can to help. But you… you can’t go getting into business with Marcelo. I’m telling you, it’s a mistake.”

 

“Well, mistake or not, I have to do something, Slash.”

 

After dinner, we ride back to my place, where he drops me off. His mom, Nancy, is still inside with mine, who is asleep when I walk in the door. Nancy gives me a “Shh” finger to silence me when I walk in the door. We step out to the back porch to talk.

 

“How was she tonight?” I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

 

“She was in great spirits,” Nancy tells me, “but it’s clear she’s getting weaker.”

 

“I know.” I bite my lip to keep from breaking down in front of her.

 

Nancy looks like she has something to say, but she hesitates. “Listen,” she finally says to me, “it’s none of my business, but I have to know – what’s going on between you and Thomas?”

 

“Thomas?” I ask. “Oh, Slash?” I blush a little bit. “We’re… friends.”

 

“Maybe more?”

 

“Maybe more.”

 

“That… that surprises me, Erin,” she says, her voice heavy with sadness. “Your mother is a wonderful woman. You seem like a lovely girl. And she is so happy to see you going out with someone. But I find it hard to believe you’ve thrown in your lot with my son. Forget about the gang he’s in and the life he leads – he can be a very bad influence on people, which is why I had to throw him out in the first place.”

 

“Hang on,” I say, “what ‘gang’? Slash isn’t in a gang.”

 

“He might as well be,” she continues. “Whatever it’s called – his ‘club’. They’re as up to no good as any of the other gangs around here. It’s really quite vile. I hope he’s not luring you into his life of crime.”

 

“Excuse me?” I demand, getting testy. “Slash isn’t luring me into anything. I’m not some dog who needs to be led by the leash, Nancy. I’m—”

 

“A good girl,” Nancy says, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder and getting ready to go. “You seem like it. That’s why I don’t want to see Thomas ruin that for you. Beware, Erin. Watch out for yourself, or you’ll suddenly find that you’re as culpable in these things as he is. I’ve seen it before. I know how this story ends.”

 

“I – I –” I don’t know what to say. What did she mean, calling Slash a criminal? Surely that couldn’t be true. Before I have a chance to ask her, though, she’s already through the door and out on the driveway. I want to run after her – ask her to tell me what exactly she knows about Slash’s “life of crime”... but she’s already gone.

 

I feel sick to my stomach. I turn to go into the house, but I don’t make it. I heave my guts out into the bushes instead. Then, very queasy, I head back into the house. I’m going to have to sleep this off.