Outcasts

Chapter 15 - Member of The Board

The nurse gently touched the patient's shoulder. "Mavro?"

His eyes fluttered open, squinting to focus.

"You friend is here."

He turned slowly and looked up from the bed, saw Sykes standing over him and said groggily, "Hey, man, what's happening?"

Sykes looked down at him and smiled. "You're turning into a sack rat."

"I guess."

"How you doing?"

"Mezzo-mezzo."

"That's better than last time."

"I'll take your word."

Sykes stepped back from the bed. "I brought you something."

Mavro looked past him to where he was pointing.

Propped against the wall between the foot of the bed and the hall door, hauntingly realistic, was the life-size portrait of Mavro. The empty right sleeve of his T-shirt hung loose, his sinewy left arm held a skateboard. The plain background accentuated the power of the figure. Mavro's confident expression left no doubt that he was back in the game.

"Janna calls it Member of The Board," Sykes said.

"Leave it to Janna." Mavro stared at the image. "Oh, man..."

"You might have to work on your balance a little."

"This is..."

"Maybe lay in some left-handed brushes."

They shared a moment staring at the painting.

Mavro said, "I guess wipeouts got their upside."

"Let's not get carried away."

"Sykes?"

"What?"

"It was some ride."

"I can imagine."

Mavro looked at the painting. "So's this."

"I'm glad you like it." Sykes glanced over his shoulder. "I brought something else."

Mavro started to ask what, but his jaw dropped before he could.

Through the door, with The Wiz in the lead, came the skateboard posse. They surrounded the bed, The Wiz going over and giving Mavro an awkward hug. There was a moment of self-conscious silence – then everyone started talking at once.

"How long before you're out?" The Wiz asked.

Mavro glanced over at the nurse.

"He'll be back soon enough," she said.

The Wiz looked at the painting, the one-armed boarder. "You are legend, man. Everybody wants to ride with you."

"But I missed," said Mavro.

"No, man, you made it. You made it big. Wipeout of the year."

Mavro blinked, Looked at Sykes who had gone over by the door. The artist gave Mavro a thumbs-up and quietly left.

~~~~~~

Two days later, morning rush hour, the street outside Sykes's hotel was its usual bustling scene, nobody paying particular attention to the shiny black Escalade SUV parked across from the hotel entrance. Zekov wasn't in the car, but his men were. Watching. Waiting.