Falling

Twelve (Gotcha!)

A spitting breeze, pushing away from the ocean harbor, rattles the hulking metal building. Trip scrambles out of the car and slides a large steel door to one side, then returns to drive the black van inside. Gravel crunches under turning wheels that move us forward a few yards before stoping.

I push the passenger side door open. It doesn't resist. I slide off the seat, reaching behind for Lyla's hand.

Two men, sporting black t-shirts and leather jackets, appear silhouetted in the car's headlights. Their hands perched on black pistols hanging at their sides.

"No need to get nervous, boys. We're just here to talk," Lyla's brother says.

Out of the corner of my eye I see another body exit the rear seat of our SUV. He's got a nasty looking long gun nestled against his shoulder and he's pointing it at the two strangers.

Their hands move away from their pistols and drop silently to their sides.

The guy behind us lowers his gun.

I guess it wouldn't hurt anything to help lower the anxiety level here.

I step forward and extend my right hand. The taller guy takes my hand and I let a little light slide into his eyes.

He drops my hand and turns his face toward Lyla's brother.

"What you have in mind, Boss Man?"

"Put'n our business together...into...shall we say one party."

The tall guy turns his face back to me.

There's some light left and it's mine to give.

Lyla's warm fingers twine with mine.

My eyes catch his. I let the light go.

His eyes do a little wiggly dance.

He coughs.

Then, the words come tumbling out of his mouth.

"Okay... Let's...Let's us make a pact," he says, wrenching his eye path away from mine.

"Trip! Bring the tattoo piece!"

Boss Man's eyes lock onto the tall man's.

Trip scuttles to Boss Man's side.

"We'll close the deal with a tattoo seal, Hombre."

Boss Man reaches toward Hombre with his right hand, uncovering the underside of both their arms. Trip presses a needle point into Hombre's arm. A little canister, attached to the top of the needle and held in a small plastic frame, punctures his skin.

"That'll be a skull you'll be wear'n, our sign."

Then, Trip applies the little gismo to Boss Man's arm and draws a scorpion that matches the one on Hombre's neck.

"I'll be wear'n your mark. That shows we be a brother party,"

Boss Man's eyes gleam behind the words striking the air between their faces.

Loyalty and honor!" Hombre says, his voice as solid as concrete.

Boss Man watches Hombre turn and exit through one of the side doors. Then he turns his eyes in Lyla's direction, gives a silent nod and heads for the car. 

Lyla reaches up with a soft hand, drawing Sam's lips to a heated embrace on her two pink clouds.

Boss Man saunters toward the black SUV. He turns and allows the picture of Lyla and Sam to kick back into a little celebration in his brain.

Gotcha! Gotcha! Gotcha!