Page 124 of Tito

Tito

Sitting in the Marcie’s Diner waiting to start an early morning meeting with Ted, I felt ill knowing that the day would likely be Cash’s last free day on earth. Try as I might, I couldn’t make myself accept what was happening as being fair or just.

Although at one point in time we’d all had our problems with Cash, each of looked at him now as our savior. The man who stood up against the odds when most would have fled. The man who took the brunt of the blame for two decades of bad decision we made as a club.

Memories of the five of us walking through the fields behind Cash’s house when we were kids, poking each other and laughing on our way to the best fishing spot south of the Canadian border.

We’d often stay all night, pitching two tents to sleep in. The campfire we lit to ward off coyotes and wolves would later be used to cook the fish we caught, and Cash always caught the biggest.

During the summer before we were entering high school, we wandered to the creek one Friday evening. The first night of fishing, as the sun fell low on the horizon, Cash hooked something. Ghost, Baker, Goose and I swore Cash’s lure was caught on a rock at the bottom of the creek. With the tip of his pole bent at 90 degrees, and making no headway on reeling in themonster, Cash argued our claims of being snagged.

We laughed and called him a liar for the thirty minutes that he fought to reel in the rock.

In the end, he was right. We enjoyed the 22-pound trout he caught that night, eating until we were too full to move. Cash entered high school that year telling the story of the trout that fed him and his four brothers for an entire weekend.

We got older and the stories we once told faded. Then, one day, I turned around and they were gone. As the years passed, we never took time to make new memories—short of which bank we robbed, how much money we made, or how we narrowly escaped capture. Thanks to Ghost—and Ally—we were never caught during our departures from the scene of our crimes.

In the end, it was greed that got us caught.

One of Ghost’s sayings, the hungry pig gets fed, and the greedy pig gets slaughtered, held true right to the bitter end.

I gazed at the ceiling and closed my eyes.

I miss you, Brother Ghost. Was just sitting here thinking of the weekend we ate that twenty-pound trout. I miss those days.

I wish I could say all is well here, but it’s not. Honestly, I have no idea what the future holds. Whatever it is, you can bet I’ll approach it with a different outlook, a better perspective, and an open heart. Life’s good in so many respects. In others, I just can’t begin to explain.

I know you didn’t plan your exit, but you got out just in time. Hope all is well with you and Abby.

Be well, my Brother.

I lowered my head and opened my eyes. Much to my surprise, Ted was seated across from me.

“We make decisions as men, and we’re forced to live our lives hoping those decisions are the right ones,” he said. “In my line of work—and in yours—oftentimes our decisions have a profound effect on the lives of others. Sometimes, men lose their lives, their freedom, or their sanity. All we can do is hope we make it to the end with all three intact.”

I nodded my head in agreement. “This is going to be one of those days.”

“One of which days?” he asked.

“One of the days like what I was thinking about when you sat down. A day that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” He lowered his head for a moment, and then looked up. “I hope the decision I’ve made is the right one. Time, I suppose, will tell.”

I tried to smile, but I couldn’t. I was on the cusp of shedding a tear for a man I’d grown to once again love with all my heart. I pursed my lips and gave a crisp nod. “I suppose it will.”

The waitress paused as she walked past, noticing Ted had taken a seat.

“I’ll get you a cup,” she said.

He shook his head. “Don’t bother. I’m on my way out.” He shifted his attention from her to me. “Regardless of how this day pans out, we never met here. We never had a discussion about anything other than whatever it is we talked about on Sundays, when you were at my home. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Your little club?” He let out a breath and shook his head before giving me a serious look. “It no longer exists.”

“Understood.”

“Watch the five o’clock news tonight for an update.”