A Long Ride Read online

  “Maybe we should recruit Troie,” I suggested, only half joking.

  “You have enough drugs and jokes,” Shocker told me, hands pressed to her cheeks, trying to keep her face from stretching the stitches. With a painful rictus of a smile she turned to Perry. “Stop making me laugh! My face hurts.”

  “My face hurts,” a woman said with a semblance of Shocker's whine, stepping into the crowded room.

  We turned to see a tall, brawny figure with blonde curls, a strong jaw and big nose. Large waist pushing tightly on jeans, even larger bosom pushing on a shirt that declared I'M THAT BITC#. She had a carefree presence, one hand in a pocket, the other holding the hand of a little girl in a skirt that would become a prettier, petite version of her mother. The blonde giant looked closer at Shocker and jerked backwards as she realized the extent of the girl-beast's injuries. “Damn, Shock. You really did get fu –” she glanced down at the little girl, “freaked up.”

  Shocker responded by gripping her face, groan-chuckling.

  They moved further into the room and a twelve year old version of Ace appeared behind them. He held his sister Caroline on his hip, eyes widening in alarm at the sight of Shocker. He handed the baby to her. “Hey mom. You okay?” She waved him off, Nothing new. He moved long brown hair out of eyes that were straight out of the geek's Y genes, crystal blue. Freckles stretched into a grin at his mom's nonchalance.

  “Hey precious.” Shocker hefted the baby, kissed her. Caroline blinked and giggled. Shocker then hugged little Ace with her free arm, burying her chin in his hair, sucking in a breath and squeezing her eyes shut, sniffling, obviously suppressing terrible feelings.

  Memories, my subconscious provided. That boy had been kidnapped by the same crooked cops that put her and Ace in prison.

  Ace stood and hugged the boy, put an arm around his wife and daughter. I watched the family curiously. So that's what it's like… Nolan didn't have any of the girl-beast's features, and I surmised he was her stepson; when he was born, she was at the beginning of her pro boxing career. The family broke their huddle and an interesting thing occurred to me: I actually cared to wonder about them.

  “Hmm,” I frowned.

  Bobby stood with a wide grin, bumped fists with Nolan, tickled Caroline's cheek. He said to the boy, “How's school in Juarez?” He kept looking at Nolan, but gripped Shocker's shoulder as she turned away from everyone to wipe her eyes.

  “Es muy dificil”, It's very hard, he replied with a quick flip of his hair, watching his mom.

  “Yeah, yeah. School is hard. Been away too long. Nice to see ya,” the blonde giant said. She smirked at Shocker, familiar as old friends are. “We're here. Now what's the fuss?” She waited on Shocker to regain composure, looking around at us strangers. Eyes pausing and wagging at Bobby, who apparently had the pleasure of her acquaintance already.

  “Hello Patty,” Big Swoll said uneasily.

  Patty turned and stared me up and down, full of judgment. She looked at Shocker, inclined her head at me. “This the douche you told me about?”

  “Mommy!” the little girl said in a scandalized high pitch, frowning severely at Patty.

  Patty looked at her daughter. “What? That doesn't count as a curse word. Crap, girl. Find a lollipop or something. Chill.”

  The room was full of humor, some of it at my expense. I ignored it, looked at Shocker and crossed my arms. “Douche?”

  “Yeah. You're kind of a D-bag at times,” she said bluntly. “Hi Jasmine.” She promptly ignored me, hugging the little girl, whose lips moved silently with the new term, D-bag?

  “He is a douche,” Blondie croaked, corner of her puffy mouth turned up.

  Patty grinned with horse teeth, shoved me aside and held her hand out to my girl. “Patty.”

  “Blondie.” They squeezed fingertips.

  I scowled at the women. “Hi. My name is Outta Here.”

  “I believe I'll join you,” Perry said pushing off the wall, following me into the hallway.

  Bobby towered over the women, huge, hulking, though his body language expressed the timidity of a puppy afraid to cross a street full of scary, insanely driven cars. The women fussed and stroked the kids, already talking about matters that didn't concern men. Bobby gave Nolan a look from experience, You better come with us.

  Nolan watched his mom with uncertainty. The Shocker did a full inspection of her son while questioning his eating habits and recent activities, pausing only long enough to hug him several times, thoroughly embarrassing the poor dude. She declared him healthy and okayed his leave to go with us, then turned her full attention back to Caroline, bouncing her on a hip, speaking softly in a you're-so-precious voice, while Jasmine alternately yammered questions to her about the baby and Blondie's injuries. Nolan's eyes widened comically. He gave Big Swoll a serious nod, I'm definitely coming. Bobby put a hand on his shoulder and steered him around Patty, using the boy as a shield. He snapped powerful fingers in front of Ace, Let's go, geek!

  Ace finished whatever he was doing on the tablet, quickly put it in a cargo pocket. Looked at Shocker with permission-seeking eyes. “Dear?”

  “Go,” she told him without taking her eyes off Caroline.

  I stood in the hall, looking through the doorway at Blondie. She was under attack, unable to answer Jasmine quickly enough before the little dynamo of interrogatories turned back to Shocker and the baby. Patty rattled on to Blondie about some man in her past that had broken her leg. My freaked out stare matched Perry's, Bobby's and Nolan's. Ace just looked confused. “Come on,” I said, heading down the hall, passing several rooms with patients. I opened the back exit and inhaled the quiet, fresh air of the parking lot with relief.

  “Whew,” Perry said theatrically, wiping his forehead.

  Ace came out last and shut the door. “What just happened?” he said.

  “The room was too small for everyone so we had to leave,” Nolan explained to his father.

  “Yeah,” I said. “That's what happened.”

  “Beautiful day,” Bobby observed, hands on waist, looking toward the trees a few hundred yards away, afternoon sun hovering over them.

  “It is,” I agreed. I stripped off my shirt, leaned over and started rolling up my jeans, stopping between calves and knees. There were no people in view – this was the employee parking area – and I planned to get a workout while I could. I straightened, looked at Ace. “You bring the leftovers from the garage?”

  He nodded. “Steak, salad, some burgers and deviled eggs. Bread.”

  “I saw a microwave in the nurses' lounge. I'll fix us something,” Perry volunteered. Ace handed him the keys to the Scion.

  “Perfect. Anyone care to join me?” I gestured at the large paved area, empty lots flanking it. It was in development. Other medical facilities would soon be built. “Plenty of room to run.”

  “Why not?” Bobby rumbled, taking his shirt off.

  Ace shrugged and emptied his pockets, piling everything on top of the long sleeve shirt he doffed and dropped on the sidewalk.

  Nolan looked at us curiously for a moment. You guys are exercising here??? Then he sighed and rolled up his baggy skateboarder pants, showing us his skinny, Mexican-sunned torso, piling his shirt on his dad's.

  I took off at a brisk pace. They shuffled into a line behind me.

  I guesstimated circling the lot was about ten laps to a mile, planning on stopping at that point. By lap four I was far ahead, with Ace and Bobby out-pacing Nolan by a wide margin. Three minutes later I had lapped everyone twice and was sprinting the final lap, stopping where we started, near the clinic's back door. Before the others caught up I was shadowboxing. Jabbing, feigning, weaving my head and stepping around behind a row of nurses' sedans and Dr. Gorman's H2 Hummer.

  The air was perfect, thick with end-of-year crispness, faint traces of the distant trees and heavy Washington Avenue traffic. Perspiration began to flow in volume as I picked up the pace, increasing speed of punches and frequency of combinations, punch
ing at a rate that kept a constant burn on my shoulders, stepping explosively, pivoting, lunging to keep persistent strain on my legs, balls of feet heating with friction.

  Intensely focused on breathing and relaxing muscles, I had a limited sense of what others were doing. I noticed Bobby's massively wide back flexing parallel to the ground, arms pumping out pushups. Ace and Nolan, athletic but not athletes, caught their breath from the run before dropping down to join Big Swoll's chest and triceps exercise.

  Another fifteen minutes had me soaked, lungs like a bellows, forcing me to gasp air quickly. I felt my face was red with exertion, focus slipping as my head heated up, salty sweat running down it, onto my lips. My injured calf was tight, though had performed just fine without the aid of the EAP compression legging. I quit after one last explosive one-two, grunted relief, and walked over to the sidewalk and sat on a bench between the sedans and several dark green rhododendrons. Flower beds were withering behind the shrubs, brown stems reflected brightly by the clean clinic windows. I stretched my arms out on the wooden backrest and checked out Bobby's one-arm pushups. Ace was showing his son the proper form for squats, head up, butt pushed out. They finished a couple more sets and joined me on the bench.

  “Didn't think you'd be able to run like that on Vicodin,” Bobby told me. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, looking at his sweat drip down and stain the sidewalk.

  I gave a thumbs up. “No problem. When I was competing I could run like that after two days of drinking and doing coke-”

  Ace elbowed me, Kid present!

  “Drinking Coca-Cola,” I said lamely.

  “Yeah. All that sugar is bad for performance,” Bobby said just as lamely, looking at Ace with an apology.

  Nolan looked at us, offended. “I know what coke is.”

  “You do?” Ace said, genuinely surprised. His mouth twisted. He seemed to be having an epiphany, and not his pleasant one.

  “Dad.” Nolan was exasperated. “I live in Juarez.”

  “But you go to private school.”

  “Yeah, with La Familia's kids.”

  “Oh.” Ace pondered that, eyes shifting, computing.

  Nolan grinned at him, then looked at me. “My mom can run and shadowbox like that.”

  “No kidding?” I replied.

  “She was a world champion.”

  I smiled a little. “Heard that somewhere.”

  “Think you can beat her?” He turned on the bench, staring at me.

  I gave an amused snort. “Kid, your mom isn't human.”

  “Neither are you,” the Shocker said walking out of the clinic. Jasmine followed, holding Caroline's hand, the baby walking as if she were much older. Patty swaggered out behind them. Her eyes locked onto Bobby's shirtless physique with a predatory gleam, mouth curling with devious intent.

  Big Swoll stood and grabbed his shirt, turned his back to us and put it on. “I'll check on the food,” he said to no one in particular, walking into the clinic. “Hey Perry!”

  I stood and faced Shocker, put my shirt on. “Sometimes being human isn't enough. To beat monsters, you have to become one.”

  She nodded seriously. “I agree. It's all the collateral damage that bothers me.”

  “Mommy,” Jasmine whispered sternly.

  Patty's eyes turned from the direction her crush went and looked at the girl. She flapped a hand in consternation. “Alright!” Then she looked at me and muttered without much sincerity, “Sorry for calling you a douche.”

  “Sure you are.” I smiled at Jasmine. The girl turned to me with a pleased smile. I walked over, wiped a sweaty hand on my shirt and held it out to her. “How do you do, young lady? My name is Razor.”

  “How do you do? My name is Jasmine.” Her hand was as wide as three of my fingers, her voice a child's, but she met my eyes and shook my hand like a little CEO. Then she looked at her hand and wrinkled her nose.

  Caroline had been watching us, mouth open in wonder. She suddenly giggled at Jasmine and asked her, “You make a stinky?”

  Jasmine chortled in a squeaky high tone. The rest of us chuckled at their exchange.

  “Smart kid,” I told Patty.

  She looked at her daughter and tried not to smile. “I guess…”

  The girl folded her arms primly and arched an eyebrow, Excuse me? You know darn well I'm smart!

  “What are you doing?” Ace asked his girl as she pulled off the long sleeves, shoulders rippling in the tank top underneath. She balled up the shirt and through it in his face.

  “Going for a run,” she answered him. “Watch Caroline.”

  “Yes dear.”

  She looked at Patty and Jasmine. “You want to show these boys how it's done?”

  “Yeah!” Jasmine squealed. She pumped her tiny arms and started an exaggerated jog in place, sandals tapping, looking at Nolan with her chin lifted, Girls are better than boys.

  Nolan stuck out his tongue, making a farting sound while showing her a thumbs down.

  “Hey, I'm for any excuse to take my clothes off in front of men,” Patty said. She pulled off her tee, lay it on the back of the bench. She didn't have a tank underneath, and her smile said we were fortunate she was wearing a bra, a large sturdy thing that strained over massive boobies. Her pale skin glowed, muffin top unembarrassedly hanging over her jeans waist. “Let's show 'em, Shock!” she shouted, then stepped forward throwing heavy jabs that made things flop and jiggle.

  Jasmine's sense of etiquette was highly offended as she watched her mother, though she kept any rebuke herself. Her mommy was demonstrating supreme confidence in her own skin, and the strength of the display was more than enough to awe jasmine's disagreements into silence.

  The slogan on that shirt, I'M THAT BITC#, was written just for Patty, I decided.

  Shocker's eyes glittered with amusement. She had missed Patty as much as the kids. They shared a familiarity that only comes from bonding during hard times. These girls had waded through a lake of fire together. But where? I frowned.

  Prison cell mates, my subconscious bet. Shocker was locked up for a couple years. She was part of a convict fight ring that broadcast on the Internet. Bet you Patty was in the fight ring, too.

  “Hmm,” I considered. She'll make a nice addition to the crew.

  “How many you guys run?” Shocker wanted to know. She put a hand on her hip, all attitude. “One?”

  “Ten,” I scowled.

  “Pfff. We'll do that running backwards.” She pumped a fist at me.

  “I'm leaving my shirt on,” Jasmine told Patty with a prim flip of her long blonde ponytail.

  Patty adjusted her bra straps, looked down. “Don't worry about it. Mommy's a big girl, with big clothes that slow her down. This thing is like a parachute.” She grabbed her shirt and held it open, then pointed at Jasmine. “You're narrow behind will slice through the air like a kite string.” She indicated her considerable rear end. “Mommy's butt is an air brake.”

  Jasmine pressed a hand to her mouth, her laugh like a tickled song bird.

  “Ready?” Shocker asked the girls. Patty flipped curly locks off her shoulders and nodded. Jasmine giggled and started running in place again. Mother and daughter burst into a laughing run, trailing the boxing legend that shot off at a speed I was sure would catch her shoes on fire.

  “Hey. Did I miss something?” Perry said in utter amazement, walking out of the clinic with food rolled in paper towels. He stopped and watched the girls run, eyebrows climbing above his sunglasses at the sight of Patty's shirtless form.

  Bobby followed him, holding several bottles of vending machine milk and orange juice. His mouth widened with distaste and uncertainty when Patty's jiggling bod came flying around the curve of the lot. She flipped her hair and gave a huge wink for his benefit, passing in front of us. He stared after her, mouth literally hanging open, forgetting he held drinks until Nolan relieved him of the bottles.

  “I think she likes you,” Nolan observed as if he and Bobby were classmates. He laughed
and walked away when Big Swoll shook a playful fist at him, Don't go there.

  Perry handed out hunks of French bread that had been hollowed out and stuffed with steak and salad, some eggs. The grease soaked paper towel was almost too hot to hold. I sniffed it, stomach excited, and took a bite that was far too large, microwaved meat scalding my tongue, eyes watering. I chewed while sucking in cooling air, the sublime taste overriding any aversion to a seared throat.

  Nolan handed me an open bottle of milk, cold, wet. I turned it up. Groaned with pleasure. I could actually feel my muscles respond to the perfect balance of protein, carbs and electrolytes. There's nothing better than cold milk after a workout.

  Shocker flew by on her third lap, relaxed arms pushing elbows back, diaphragm expanded. Her form was that of an elite runner, breathing in perfect sync with her legs, inhaling for three steps, exhaling for two, stretching out a long stride, Nikes touching so smoothly only an occasional scrape of loose gravel could be heard.

  Wonder what those cops were thinking when they saw that beast of a girl running, I thought. If she hadn't gone into boxing, she could have dominated the world of running. Easily.

  Shocker lapped Patty, who maintained a lope impressive for her disposition, then high-fived Jasmine's upheld hand, blasting by the little girl who decided to finish her final laps walking. Shocker finished laps nine and ten in a furious burst of speed, arms and neck deforming with fast-twitch muscle, legs blurring blue camo. The former pound-for-pound champ passed the sedans in front of us and let off the gas. “Whew!” she breathed loudly, head high, taking slow deep breaths. Hands on hips, walking a cool-down lap.

  I finished off the steak sub and milk, feeling both inadequate and special to have been schooled by the legend. I didn't have to time our runs to know she had blown me out of the water.