Biker's Virgin

“Oh, you know, not too bad.”

“I didn’t realize this was your area.”

“Has been for a year now,” Manolo replied. “They keep shifting us around.”

“Right.” I nodded.

“So, do you know why I pulled you over?”

“You wanted to say hi?” I asked.

“You have a broken taillight.”

“Fuck,” I groaned. “The right one?”

“That’s the one.”

“Fuck,” I said again. “Sorry, I’ve been meaning to get it fixed. It’s just… Things have been so busy at the station.”

“Hey, I understand—personal business takes a back seat,” Manolo replied.

“Exactly.”

“License and registration, please?”

Cursing inwardly, I opened the glove compartment on the passenger’s side where I kept my documents and pulled them out. My hand knocked over Brent’s jacket, and something fell out of the breast pocket. The package was concealed in brown paper, but I could make out something suspiciously green from a tear in the paper. Feeling nauseous suddenly, I prayed that Manolo hadn’t noticed.

The moment he disappeared from my window to walk back to his car with my information, I grabbed the package and stuck it back into Brent’s coat. A few seconds later, Manolo appeared again at my window and passed me my documents.

“There you go,” he said. “Listen, I don’t want to have to give you a ticket. You do a great service to our community, and it seems to me community could cut you a break here.”

I smiled. “You’re not going to write me a ticket?”

“I’ll let you off this one time,” Manolo said. “But you’re going to need to get that light fixed—as soon as possible.”

“It’s done,” I said.

“Good to see you, Phil.”

“Great to see you, Manolo,” I said, as I waved him off. “And thanks for doing me this solid.”

“Take care of yourself, Phil. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Yep.”

The moment Manolo’s car had driven away, I scrambled for Brent’s coat and pulled out the package that had fallen out earlier. It felt light in my hand and instinct was telling me what I had. I pulled the package out of the brown paper and stared at the bag of pot.

“That fucking idiot,” I hissed under my breath.

If Manolo had caught this on me, I was pretty certain he wouldn’t have turned a blind eye. My whole sordid past came up in front of me, and I saw the work it had taken to distance myself from that kind of life. I knew that Brent wasn’t necessarily on the same path that I was, but I assumed he had at least a little common sense. He hadn’t even told me that he had pot in his jacket.

I hid the pot and started driving again. The whole way there, I kept thinking back to my childhood. I remembered staring down towards the living room from the staircase after dad had stumbled in from a night out with his friends. I saw her silhouette in the far corner of my memory, but she had long dissolved into shadows that no longer had any real shape or features.

Sometimes when I concentrated really hard, I could recall Paul sitting next to me on the staircase. But more often than not, I was the only one watching, a confused five-year-old boy who didn’t understand why everyone in his life was so unhappy.

I pulled up outside Brent’s apartment and headed inside, making sure to take his coat with me. As I walked down the hallway to his apartment, I transferred the bag of pot from his jacket pocket to mine. I knocked twice when I reached his door.

“Come in!” Brent yelled from inside. “It’s open.”