Hands All Over

Ch. 55 Gone

Mel sat at the dirty old bar, a tequila tonic sitting in front of him. He'd been there since he'd left his brother's grave earlier that morning. He'd lost count of how many drinks he'd had, but he knew his tab was getting up there. It didn't matter to him, though; he had more than enough money to foot the bill. He took out the manila envelope Tig had given him from his brother. There hadn't been much in there. A handwritten letter, some pictures, the numbers to his bank accounts, and his will. Not surprisingly, his big brother had left him everything, including his motorcycle. Mel was considering keeping it, learning to ride. Maybe it would make Angela like him better.

He was staring at one picture in particular. One he couldn't get out of his mind. It was the three of them laid out on the beach. Her head was on his stomach, his brother's head on hers. All three of them smiling and happy. One of Angela's friends had taken the picture because Happy had refused to. Hell, Happy had refused to do anything but lay out in the sun, drink beer, and toss around the ball with Koz. The only time he went in the water was to throw Angela in because she mouthed off to him.

"Beautiful girl there," the man next to him commented. "She yours?"

"Should be," Mel murmured, too drunk to be bothered by the man looking over his shoulder.

The man chuckled, slapping him on the back. "The one that got away, huh? We all got one," he said as he sat down next to him. "Get this man another of whatever he's got and one for me too. So what's the story?"

"She moved here. Fell for a fuckin' Son," he explained, glancing at the semi-bald man at his side. The side of the man's face was covered in a grotesque burn giving him an evil villain look. "He knocked her up, and they're going to live happily ever after while I sit here and rot in fuckin' Sacramento. But she's happy so I guess I just have to live with it."

"Ain't any of those Old Ladies happy," the stranger said on a chuckle before tossing back his whiskey. "Not really."

Mel shrugged a shoulder. "Nothin' I can do about it."

"Want to know what I'd do? I'd get her the hell out of here. Whatever it took. It's for her own good. Old ladies get killed all the time. One got gunned down a few years ago, shot up gang style. Another was beaten to death a few months after. Just a few days ago, one was almost abducted. Something has happened to every one of them. Yours might be next. If you gotta drag her outta here kickin' and screamin', do it. It's for her own good."

He considered the idea for a moment: going into her house, grabbing her, and forcing her out of town. It was a crazy notion. If her idiot was there, it was sure to get him killed, and even if he wasn't, Angela would never stand for it. She'd fight him tooth and nail, and he'd lose his nerve. One hit or slap from her, he'd back down. He couldn't do that to her. "I'm not that type of guy."

The man dug around in his pocket producing a small baggie of white powder. "This can make you that type of guy," he said, pushing the baggie towards him. "Go 'head. 's on me. Not a big fan of the Sons myself. Assholes have taken a lot from me. I'd be happy to save someone from them."

Before Mel could give the baggie back, the man was gone leaving behind only his empty glass and a few bucks. He picked up the small bag, considering it for a brief moment. No, he couldn't. After watching his older brother go through the ups and downs of a serious addiction, Mel had decided never to try them. He'd never even smoked pot. He knew what drugs like this did to your system. The long list of psychological effects included delusions of grandeur, invincibility, an increase in self confidence as well as obsessive behavior. He had no doubt with this in his system; he'd have the balls to pull Angela out of this life no matter how hard she protested.

But was it worth it? She'd hate him for sure...but for how long? Once she got over the initial shock, she'd probably get used to the idea. He'd take her some place warm, close to the beach where they could lay out in the sun all day. It'd be a good place to raise a child. He wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that kid. That was a loss he knew Angela would never come back from. He could see her accepting the idea of leaving Charming as long as her baby was not at all affected. Truth be told, he could live with that. He'd told her as much already. He loved kids, always had. If the child looked anything like its mother, Mel didn't think he'd have a problem loving it like it was his own.