Page 73 of Rigid

“My Ol’ Lady left me when I was in Afghanistan. I don’t know, when I see a fucker like you settling down with some chick, it gives me hope.”

“Fucker like me.” I chuckled. “What the fuck’s that mean, prospect?”

“No disrespect, but you’re a fucking asshole,” he said.

I laughed. “No argument from me on that.”

As he finished devouring his fries, I considered what he’d said about being ditched by his Ol’ Lady while he was at war. I normally didn’t feel sorry for anyone, but I began to feel sorry for him to go through such a loss while he was fighting for his country’s freedom.

“Suck’s about your Ol’ lady,” I said. “Leaving like that.”

“Standard Operating Procedure for wives of Marines,” he said. “Seems they all do it, eventually.”

I shook my head. “Damned shame.”

“I want a woman who I can trust. Tough, considering I don’t trust anyone.”

“You trust me?” I cocked an eyebrow, and waited for his response.

He finished his handful of fries and then shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t given me a reason to yet. If you want to gain my trust, you’ll have to earn it. Suppose the same goes for you, right?”

I pursed my lips and nodded. He was slowly earning my respect. In time, I was sure trust would follow.

“C’mon,” I said. “Let’s beat feet.”

“Sorry, Boss. I got to hit the head and drop a deuce. Be back post haste. Those greasy fries are goin’ right through me.”

“I don’t need all the gory details about you taking a shit, prospect. Hurry the fuck up.”

While he was taking a dump, I sent Sandy a text message and asked how her day was going. It seemed strange caring about someone other than Eddie, P-Nut or myself, but it wasn’t something I had to tell myself to do, which led me to believe I naturally cared about her, the baby, or both.

She responded with an emoji of some sort that I wasn’t able to discern, as her iPhone and my Android didn’t communicate well with each other when it came to smiley faces and other like-minded shit.

I grinned, pocketed my phone, and checked my watch. We’d been in the restaurant for almost an hour, which was a long time for me to sit in one place during the day. When I was about to get up and leave, Tank came out of the bathroom.

“Take my advice, you’ll wanna use the women’s restroom if you gotta go.”

I stood and shook my head. “I’m good. Let’s roll.”

We walked outside, and no more than reached the parking lot, when Tank spotted someone leaning over my bike. Before I had a chance to say anything, he took off in a dead run toward the guy.

“Hey, motherfucker, what are you doing?” he shouted.

The guy, who was leaned over the gas tank, stood and turned to face him. His face did little to hide the fact he’d been caught fucking with something he knew he surely shouldn’t have been.

Knowing that the man hadn’t done any damage, I paused to see just how Tank would handle the situation.

“I was just--” the man stammered.

Tank stepped in front of him, partially blocking my view. “Just what?”

“I was, uhh--”

Tank punched him in the gut, then kicked his legs out from underneath him. The man fell to the asphalt at Tank’s feet.

“When a motherfucker takes too long to answer,” Tank said as he kicked the man. “That’s when you can tell a lie’s coming.”

He kicked the guy in the gut a few more times, and he immediately covered his head with his arms, hoping to protect his face from any boot damage.