Page 553 of Devil’s Disciples

“It means I could dance.”

“It’s not something you forget,” Carma argued. “Once a dancer, always a dancer. You’ve either got rhythm, or you don’t.”

While they were talking, Lady Marmalade, by LaBelle began to play.

“Oh my Gosh.” Carma jumped up. “Can you dance to this?”

Bama gestured toward the dance floor. “A more accurate question would be, can you?”

Carma was one hell of a dancer, but she had her hands full with Bama. They danced for three songs, back to back, drawing every ounce of attention to themselves during each song.

While they danced, I glanced from group to group, and from person to person. I recalled when Crip explained how Peyton’s presence allowed him to become a better person, and that he hadn’t had a PTSD episode since they were together.

I hadn’t had any kind of meltdown since Carma and I committed to one another.

Carma’s presence wasn’t a result of her ability to keep me grounded. She was in my life because I loved her, and I because I couldn’t imagine living a life without her.

She told me when we met that she didn’t have any friends to speak of. The fifty people gathered around the dance floor clapping while she and Bama danced stood as proof that she now had many friends.

Friends I knew she could count on when things got tough.

Or.

When all a person needed to do was have a bite of octopus and dance to a little 70’s groove music.

Either way, the group of friends that gathered to celebrate her family’s freedom had her back.

Epilogue

Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays I worked the morning shift. On Wednesdays, I worked the night shift. It coincided with Reno’s standing mid-week meeting with the MC and allowed us to get home at roughly the same time.

I double-checked my tables, straightened a misaligned condiment caddy, and turned toward the door. I gazed through the glass. My new car was parked at the curb. I pressed the button on my key fob.

The alarm chirped and the lights flashed.

I pulled the door handle, dragging the top of the door across the brass bell that hung in the door way. When the bell clanged, I paused.

I cocked my head to the side and waited. There was one more thing I needed before I left, and I wasn’t prepared to leave without it. After a silent ten seconds, I closed the door and reopened it.

Clang, clang. Clang, clang.

With the door open twelve inches, I stood in wait.

“Carma!”

I smiled. “Yes, George?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said over my shoulder.

On my way home, I gave thanks for my life and the people in it. I was truly blessed the day I met Reno, and I realized it fully.

When the garage door opened, I was disappointed to see Reno’s motorcycle parked in its spot. Beating me home meant he was cooking dinner. His heart was in the right place, but he couldn’t cook to save his ass. I’d eaten so many experiments that I feared one more might be the death of me.

Frustrated, I parked the car and stomped to the door. “How’d you get home so quickly?” I asked as I pushed it open.

“Rode like a bat out of hell.”