Page 65 of Thug

I gestured to the cabinet at my side. “Grab a couple plates? Tortillas are in the oven. It’s ready.”

Seeing Gray in my kitchen brought memories of evening meals with my aunt to mind. She’d raised me after my parents were murdered and stayed in the home until I was in my early twenties. I realized in looking at Gray how much I missed her company.

We prepared our tacos and sat beside one another at the kitchen table. After a few bites of my first taco, I glanced at Gray. She was devouring her food like a starving dog.

“Mind if I put on some music?” I asked.

“Mind?” she asked over a mouthful of food. She pinched what remained of her taco between her thumb and forefinger. “Not at all. I listen to music all the time.”

I walked to the mid-century credenza in the adjoining room and opened it. My father purchased it when I was a kid. We’d spent countless hours dancing and laughing while listening to music.

I pulled the Rolling Stones Let It Bleed album from the dustcover and placed it on the turntable. I set the volume at a moderate level and returned to the kitchen.

Keith Richards’ guitar introduction to the song filtered into the room. “Guess the album,” I said.

She looked at me like I’d asked her to add two plus two. “Let It Bleed,” she said. “1969. Brian Jones died when they were recording this one. Face down in his swimming pool.”

It amazed me that another human being knew as much about music as I did. I took my seat, hoping to hide my excitement at who Gray Forester was.

She bit off half a taco in one bite. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just enjoying another Saturday on this earth.”

“This song is so deep once you realize what they’re singing about.” She took a bite. “Rape, murder, war. Bobby Kennedy’s death, Martin Luther King’s assassination. The loss of Keith’s girlfriend. He was inspired to write this song during a thunderstorm in London. He said he was looking out the window at the lightning and rain, and it came to him.”

“Every time I play an album, I think it’s my favorite.” I laughed. “Then, I play another and think the same thing.”

“The lyrics at the end.” She waited a few seconds and then raised her index finger. “Do you know what he’s saying?”

“That love is just a kiss away,” I said.

“Do you believe that?”

I had no idea if a man could love anyone beyond family, and all my family was dead. I still loved my aunt and each of my parents, but I missed the feeling of being loved in return. To think that a kiss could activate something inside a person’s heart that allowed love to blossom was a stretch.

A far stretch.

“I’m not sure,” I responded. “I think it’s a far stretch.”

“When we were in the bathroom, you said, ‘you name it and we’ll do it’, remember?”

She was right. I did say that. I nodded. “I do.”

She leaned forward, puckered her lips, and closed her eyes. “You think it’s a stretch? Well, stretch your sexy ass over the table and kiss me. See what happens.”

I did as she asked.

Feeling her lips against mine didn’t make me love her, but it was a damned good step in the right direction.

So, I kissed her again.

19

Gray

In the five days that passed since the incident in the desert, Panzer’s construction crew finished the kitchen. They kept their progress a secret by constantly feeding me false statements about equipment and materials being on backorder. After the crew pulled an all-nighter, Panzer surprised me with the news that an inspection had been scheduled for the following day.

I’d been at the bar since 5:00 am, frantically cleaning, tidying, and praying. Wiping the bar down for the umpteenth time in the past five hours, I looked up as Panzer came from the kitchen to the bar.