Page 69 of Misadventures of a Biker

“Oh.” A worried look washed over her. “Is everything okay?”

“Just a routine call.”

“On Sunday?”

“On whatever day they choose, really.”

I turned toward the door. “Afternoon, Mr. Jacobs.”

He raised a plastic cup. “Can I get a sample?”

“I’ll give you a goddamned sample,” Herb said. “I’ll drop a nice turd in there for you.”

“Leave it alone, old man,” I said.

“Fuck this asshole,” Herb snarled. “I told him the last time he came barging in here to call first.”

“That’s not how we operate,” Jacobs said. “They’re surprise visits for a reason.”

“Give me your address,” Herb said. “I’ll pay you a surprise visit while you’re enjoying dinner. We’ll see how cordial you are.” He gave him a once-over. “I bet you’re a real fucking treat when you’re irritated, huh?”

I nudged Herb away from the doorway. “Come on in.”

“Still employed?” he asked.

“Since the report I sent you last week?” I asked with a laugh. “Yes, I am.”

“Had any contact with law enforcement?”

“Other than you, no.”

“Used any illicit drugs?”

“Sure haven’t.”

He handed me the cup, which was sealed in a protective plastic bag. “You know the drill.”

“Follow me,” I said.

He followed me into the bathroom and stood at my side as I gathered the courage to piss in his presence. Federal officers were required to witness the piss leave the tip of your dick and enter the cup without being tampered with.

After I trickled enough urine into the cup for him to test it, I held it at my side. “There you go.”

He stretched rubber gloves over his hands and inserted the test strip, waited a moment, and then looked at it. He sealed the strip in a plastic baggie. “You can dump that.”

I dumped the cup out in the toilet and then tossed it in the trash.

“You know I don’t like this any more than you do,” he said.

“No word on my motions?” I asked.

“You’ll know at the same time I know,” he said. “If not sooner.”

“They ask for your recommendation, don’t they?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

It was the standard response from a federal officer when they didn’t want to give an answer to a question. I’d spent the last eight and a half years hearing it every time I asked a question, no matter how simple it was.