Tats (33 page)

I turn my head and blink at a bright splash of color in a chair next to my bed. It’s Vivian. She’s sleeping and her arm is stretched out over the side of the chair like she’s reaching out to me.

“Viv?” I croak hoarsely.

Vivian’s eyes fly open and she rushes to my side with a big, scared smile on her face. “Oh, my God, Lee, you’re awake!”

“I’m alive?” I ask, because it seems too good to be true.

“Yeah, you’re alive. And you’re going to be just fine. You got shot in the chest and it got one of your lungs and you’ll have a really bitchin’ scar.”

“I told you that I’d never leave you,” I say.

Tears spring to Vivian’s eyes. “You sure didn’t,” she agrees.

“How long have I been in here?” I ask.

“Two weeks and three days.”

Vivian is wearing old gray sweat pants and a baggy T-shirt. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail and her face is clean and shiny.

“You look beautiful,” I say.

She laughs. “You must have some brain damage.”

“I wasn’t too smart to begin with.”

She hands me a glass of water with one of those little bendy straws and inserts the straw between my lips for me. “Thank you for saving my life,” she says softly.

It’s weird she thinks that. It was more impulse than thought. I don’t know if you should get thank you’s for impulses.

She adds, “That’s twice now. The first time you saved my life, I slept with you.”

I raise my eyebrows at her.

“But don’t think it’s going to happen again,” she says. “I can’t go around sleeping with you every time you save my life.”

“Well, I wish you’d told me that before I got shot,” I say.

We both laugh. God, it feels good to laugh. I’m so damn glad to be alive, I laugh a little too loud and a little too long. It hurts like hell, but even the pain feels good because it reminds me that I’m alive.

Then, as if cued by some magic button, people fill up the room. They’re all wearing white and I assume they’re doctors and nurses. One tall, skinny guy with glasses constantly sliding down his narrow nose, steps forward and examines me. They’re all doing something to me: Punching buttons, looking at tubes, prodding me in different places. They all talk at once and ask me questions and all I want is a Dr. Pepper.

The doctor pushes his glasses back up his nose and talks directly to me. He speaks a lot of mumbo jumbo doctorese and I just hope Vivian understands what he’s talking about. Then he says something that jerks me back to reality and sits my ass down hard, “...and your baby is going to be just fine.”

I look at him and tilt my head to the side just like how dogs do when they hear a squeaky noise. “Baby?”

“You didn’t know you’re pregnant?” he asks.

I look to Vivian for help, but she’s as floored as me, staring at the doctor with her mouth hanging wide open.

“No, sir,” I say. “That’s news to me.”

“Well, congratulations,” he says. “You’re approximately four months along.”

Everything else he says from that point on goes absolutely unrecognized by my brain. I push the rewind button in my head and realize that the one time with Houston is the culprit. I’m overwhelmed to say the least. The strangest part is...I feel this little ball of warmth in my chest. And it’s getting bigger and bigger...

Finally, all the people leave the room and it’s just me and Vivian again. She takes my hand and holds it in hers. Her eyes are all wet and shiny and she asks, “Is it mine? Is the baby mine?”

I laugh a little, then gasp out loud from the pain. “Oh, don’t make me laugh anymore, Viv, it hurts too much.”

She leans down and wraps her arms around me as gently as she can. “We’re going to have a baby,” she breathes. “A baby!”

The next time I open my eyes, Vivian and Delia and Chopper are looking back at me. I smile a little because I realize that everybody I love is standing right here in my room. Three people may not seem like a lot to anybody else, but it’s three more than I knew about last year.

Vivian sits on the bed beside me and gently holds my hand. I note that Delia and Chopper are holding hands too.

Delia sits on the other side and lays her hand on top of my leg. “How you feeling, baby?”

“I feel good,” I say.

They all three look at each other. Something unsaid passes between them before they all three look back to me.

“What?” I ask.

“We have to talk,” Chopper says.

I feel good enough to walk, but the nurse insists that I leave the hospital in a wheelchair, so Chopper rolls me out the electric doors. I stand up on my own and am so not prepared—Hundreds of people, a whole mob of people, cameras and microphones surround me. A policeman and Chopper grab me by the elbows and escort me to a makeshift podium up some stairs.

Flashbulbs pop and blind me and microphones are in my face and cameras are thrust just inches in front of me and I wish I was anywhere else but here. I hope to God I don’t faint or something. I search the crowd—

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my left arm and it’s Vivian. She’s standing right beside me smiling up at me and I know it’s going to be okay. I’ll get through this somehow.

I take a deep breath and say into the bouquet of microphones, “Uh, hi...”

I don’t get anything else out before questions are hurled at me so fast and furious, I can’t understand what anybody is saying. I speak into the mics again, “How about one question at a time? Just one at a time okay?”

I point to a lady closest to me. “How does it feel to be a hero?” she asks, then pushes her mic at me.

I grin. “I dunno, you’ll have to ask a hero.”

A man throws a question at me, “Did you know the three men you shot and killed? Did you know they were on the FBI’s most wanted list?”

“Uh...no. I just knew they had kidnapped Vivian and, uh, I wanted to un-kidnap her. That’s pretty much all I was concerned with.”

“Tell us your side of the story,” some reporter shouts.

“Well, it’s all a little blurry, you know. I just knew that Vivian was kidnapped and I tried to help her, but that didn’t work out so good. They threw us in the trunk of a car and dumped us at some old chicken plant. They said they were going to kill us. But when the main guy, I don’t know his name, shot at Vivian...I kinda got in the way. Then we all...fought. I guess I got the gun. And you know the rest of the story.” I nod that I’m finished, then quickly add, “It was a lot more exciting than that at the time. I guess you had to be there.”

Everyone laughs.

I point to another reporter and he asks, “What precisely is your relationship with Vivian Baxter? How would you describe your relationship?”

Shit. I’m not prepared for that one. Especially since I don’t really know what my relationship with Vivian is yet. I’m all prepared to say “No comment,” just like Chopper coached me, but Vivian reaches out and pulls the nearest microphone to her and says, “I would describe our relationship as good. And if you really need to know more than that...I love her.”

Holy shit.

I look at Viv and smile big. “You got some balls, you know that?” I whisper low.

“I told you I was really the butch one,” she whispers back.

Chopper leans into the mics and says, “That’s all for now. Thank you.” He grabs me by the arm and a police officer parts the crowd so we can get through. One really pushy little reporter squeezes through and jumps right in my face with: “Have you sold the book rights yet?”

“What?” I ask.

“Have you decided which publisher you’re selling your book to?”

“No comment,” I mumble as Chopper pushes the nosy little guy away.

I look around for Vivian but she’s gotten lost somewhere in the mix of people and reporters. Chopper pulls me to his truck and opens the door for me, but I push him away.  “I got it,” I reprimand. I climb into the truck and he gets behind the wheel. I wait until we get on the road good before asking, “Did I do all right? You think that went okay?”

“You did great. My guys at the police station are taking care of the paperwork and the details so we should be fine. Everybody’s pretty happy this guy’s gone, especially the British government, so nobody’s going to throw too much of fit.”

“What’d that guy mean about a book?”

“Vivian knows all about that shit. You’ll have to talk to her.”

I nod and ask another, “Where we going?”

He ignores the question by saying, “Delia and I have decided we’re going away for a while.”

“No shit?”

He smiles. “No shit.”

“She’s married, you know.”

“For now.”

“Where you all going?” I ask.

He shrugs one shoulder. “Wherever we want.”

“Lucky you,” I joke. “She’s got nice tits.”

“Don’t talk about your mother that way,” he scolds.

“Whoops,” I laugh. “Yeah, that’s going to take some getting used to.”

“But you’re right.” He grins at me. “They are nice.”

We laugh. And then I ask him the most serious question yet, “You ready to be a grandpa?”

His face lights up with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. “Hell, yeah. I’m ready.”

“Good,” I say. “That’s good.”

Chopper pulls his truck up to his shop and parks near my Harley. I don’t have a home, nowhere really to go. So, I’m grateful he’s letting me stay here. And, I’m looking forward to keeping my hands busy with some work.

Chopper and I get out of the truck. He shuts his door and leans up against it. I walk around to him. “We going in?”

He looks up at the top of the building and I follow his eyes.

“What the hell?” jumps out of my mouth.

There’s a new sign running the length of the building. Big blue cursive letters spell out “Lee’s Bike Shop.”

I squish my eyes shut and then open them again. Yep, it’s still there.

“It’s all yours,” he says. “All of it. Tools and everything.”

“You can’t do this,” I say, dumbfounded. “You can’t just hand your shop over to me like this.”

“Oh, I’m not giving you anything,” he answers. “You bought it.”

“I’m confused. I mean, I love it and all, but I didn’t buy anything. How could I buy it?”

The answer to my question pulls up next to us in Hell Camino. It looks like Johnny Runningbear took pretty good care of her. Vivian jumps out and gives me a big, lingering hug. “What d’ya think? You like?”

“You bought this? But you said you spent all the money.”

She laughs. “Oh, my God, Lee, I wasn’t going to tell him I really had all that money stashed.”

“Hot damn,” I say. “Hot damn.”

“Wait’ll you see the house,” Vivian says.

“What house?”

“You all bought my house too,” Chopper says.

“It’s so sweet, Lee, you’ll love it. Two bedrooms and a great big kitchen. It even has a white picket fence,” Vivian says.

“Two bedrooms...” I say, disappointment coloring my voice.

“Well, the baby has to have a room of its own.”

I smile. A big wave engulfs me and I’m rolling in it and I start laughing. I guess laughter really is contagious because they join in and we’re all laughing.

“Oh my God,” I sputter. “I think I just peed my pants a little.”

Vivian leads me around by the hand and my boots make clomping noises behind the soft pads of her bare feet as she shows me our new house. She proudly points out all the decorating she’s been up to. New curtains and throw rugs in the living room with matching recliners and a TV that I personally think is way too big but I’m not about to complain.

The kitchen has old oak cabinets and countertops that Vivian says she loves and wants to keep. There’s a new stainless steel fridge and matching dishwasher, though. And there’s even a laundry room with matching washer and dryer.

Vivian pulls me into the back bedroom and proudly shows it off. She’s turned an old spare room into a beautiful baby’s room. Crib, dresser, books and toys and a rocking chair. Clouds and stars are painted on the ceiling and the wall facing the crib is a complete animal motif in bright colors.

“You paint that?” I ask.

“I did,” she says, proudly.

Damn, I love this woman. Always full of surprises.

She leads me into the main bedroom and there’s a nice king-size bed with an old-timey headboard and footboard. Vivian tells me she stripped it and refinished it herself. The sheets are new and they match the bedspread and the walls and even the curtains. Sitting on top of one of the nightstands is my huge stack of journals. I guess Vivian found them in my saddlebags.

I pick up the top journal and flip through the pages. “You read it?” I ask.

“Not yet,” she says.

Her tits BZZZZ. I look at them, but she doesn’t move. BZZZZ again.

“You going to answer that?” I ask.

“It’s just another publisher,” she says.

“Yeah, what’s up with that?”

“You’re a hero,” she says. “The newspapers printed the story, then the news stations got hold of it, next thing you know you’re on CNN and now publishers and producers are coming out of the woodwork. They want to pay you to write the book and then turn the book into a movie.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“Hillary Swank’s been calling. She wants to play you in the movie.” Vivian smiles.

“No shit? For real?” I gulp.

“Okay, not really. The Hillary Swank part is a joke. But the other stuff’s real.”

“You got me,” I laugh. I hand her the journal, the one that tells of our adventure, saying, “You can read it.”

She accepts it from me and walks out of the room, already reading the first page.

I plop down on the bed. I feel dizzy. Too much shit coming at me at once. I take in a big breath and look out the window. I watch the big orange ball head for the horizon, leaving streaks of purple and yellow in its wake. I’m mesmerized by the descent of the sun and I sit and watch it until darkness spreads its blanket over my face.

I find Vivian in the kitchen sitting up on the countertop over by the sink, reading the journal. I lean up against the doorjamb on the other side of the room, stuff my hands in my pockets and just fill my eyes with her. She’s barefoot and wearing faded jeans and a peasant blouse with some bangley beads hanging from the hem. Her hair is loose and windblown and she’s the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.