Page 49 of Road to Absolution

She faced me and took a bite of potatoes. “Crazy love, right?”

I yanked her to me, loving her belly between us, and sucked the food from her mouth. “Mine. The potatoes andyou.”

She winked. “Sucker.”

Getting me jealous over a doctor to get me to eat had worked. I snatched the plastic fork from her. “Trickster. You’re as bad as Vixen.”

“What did I do now?” asked the real version as she walked into the room. “Whoah, Mavy. Your gown is-a-gapin’. Nice ass, by the way.” She set a bag on a couch. “I may have to rethink the clothes I just brought you. They’re not chaps.”

“Real clothes? You rock, woman.” I bent over to load my fork at the wrong time.

“Dude!” yelled Tucker as he came in. “Your ass is hanging out!”

V sang to the ceiling, “Can I hear an amen?”

Taking a huge bite while I faced him, I said, “Your wife don’t seem to mind.”

He kissed her. “My wife needs to keep to the asses she knows.” When we all cringed, Tucker winced. “That didn’t sound right, did it?”

Viola sat down next to the bag she brought me and propped up her high heels. “Not unless you want me to wear a strap-on.”

“Babe, I’m a biker now. You can’t talk to me like that.”

“What?” screeched my wife.

Viola crossed her feet. “You ain’t wearin’ no cut yet, not that it matters. I’ll speak to you how ever I damn-well please, thankyouverymuch.”

“A Ryder?” asked Lilah with a little concern.

“Nah,” replied Tuck-the-Fuck. “Startin’ up my own club. The Shit Splatters.”

“Ha-Ha-Ha,” I fake laughed. “Very funny, dickwad.” Then I mean-mugged my wife for telling them.

Lilah smacked his chest for getting her in trouble, then said, “I guess this doesn’t really surprise me.” Reaching around me to close my gown, she rolled my IV poll then sat me next to V. Handing me the box of mashed potatoes, she told me, “Next thing I know, you’ll be wanting a bike, also.”

Food in my mouth, I grinned. “I’m not a biker. I’m a boxer—”

I was suddenly in the truck. My head leaning to the passenger window again. A barrel staring me down—

She lifted my chin. “We always knew boxing wasn’t forever.”

Like a child, I removed my chin from her hold and grumbled, “But not this short of a run.” I wanted to hunt down the man now haunting my thoughts. But I couldn’t. He was dead. His murder had been stolen from me, just like boxing.

“Oh noooo,” Viola complained to me. “You’re not going to be one of those morons who tries to drown themselves in a bottle, like on a pathetic soap opera, are you?”

“Damn.” I gawked at her. “Cold much?”

“No. Hot. Always.” She winked.

Not in the mood for humor, I hit where it would hurt. “Fine. Imagine you couldn’t buy high heels anymore.”

She recoiled in terror.

“Now you have an inkling of how I feel.”

Trying to catch her stolen breath, she cursed, “Jesus. This is serious shit.”

I knew she was playing around, trying to make light of the rotten situation, but I still bit, “Dying dreams usually are.”