8-Track (3 page)

“Bill, it’s Eli. Listen dude, if you don’t have any plans mañana come on by. I’m having a few people ovah, later.” Bill pressed the delete button before opening the fridge and opting for a Heineken. He popped the cap off and took a swig of the cold pale lager. His mind began to wander, he thought about Sam and possibly the chance to talk to her tomorrow.

Bill could hear the faint sound of music as he strolled past a line of American muscle cars on Eli’s street.
S
ixty-
eight Shelby, sixty-three Pontiac GTO, seventy-one Plymouth Road Runner, sixty-seven Stingray.
In the near distance he spotted Vanessa and Sam, they were standing next to the same blue Buick Riviera he’d seen a few days earlier. Vanessa was tensely smoking a cigarette, every drag more animated than the last. Sam’s hazel eyes had a look of uncertainty, like she was debating something. Bill could tell they were having a serious conversation and tried to go unnoticed, until Sam called his name. 

“Bill.” He stopped short and turned to face her.

“Hey, you two looked like you were in the middle of something. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“No, that’s OK, we were done,” Sam said opening her pocket book and removing her lipstick. Bill made eye contact with Vanessa, noticing her clenched jaw. Clearly she was somewhat distraught.

“Mom, remember what we talked about.
Let’s get to the party.” Feeling awkward by the tension, Bill dug his hands down deep into his jeans and started walking with them.

“I know, let’s just get this over with.” Vanessa removed her sunglasses and kept eying the crowd.  

Bitty and a group of people were gathered in Eli’s driveway. They varied in age, some looked to be in their early twenties while others appeared close to seventy. Bill could see a few men were wearing the same black leather vest with the initials OMC stitched in heavy block lettering on the back. The O and the C were white, while the M was in red.

Glancing up, Bitty’s oval face broke into a doll-like smile. Excusing herself from the conversation she began walking towards the three of them. Bill shook her hand.  

“Hi Bill, Eli is out back, help yourself to anything,” she said in a soft voice. Her perfectly shaped almond eyes were kind and rather shy.

“Thank you.” Bill eyed Sam, “I guess I’ll see you in a few.”

“For sure,” Sam replied with a smile.

Reading the sign he’d seen a few days earlier Bill made a connection.
When we do right, nobody remembers. When we do wrong, nobody forgets.
The sign on the wall was written in the same color and block style lettering as the initials OMC on the bikers
’
vests.
  

A seven foot scalloped wooden fence with French gothic posts enclosed Eli’s backyard on all sides.  Bill could smell the freshly cut lawn, the tire marks from the mower still visible in the green grass. A variety of trees and large boulders dotted the property, including several Japanese maples and one giant oak tree sitting in the center. Clusters of people were scattered across the yard, either standing or sitting in Adirondack chairs, talking and drinking. Bill figured there were close to thirty people hanging out. Standing under a pergola running off the house, he took the whole scene in.

A small audience was huddled around someone standing nearby. Bill recognized the man in the center of the circle. It was the same guy in the photo with Eli that he’d seen at the union hall last week when he moved to town. There was no mistaking the scar on his face.

Eli was standing next to Sig and a few other people under the oak tree sharing a joint when he spotted Bill.    

“The boy from the Island,” Eli shouted waving him over. 

“Guys this is the kid I was telling ya about. He’s helping me with the lake house. Bill, these are a few of my friends, Donnie, Oscar, John and Peter.” Bill shook their hands.         

“You remember Sig,” Eli asked passing the joint off to Bill.

“Totally, the muscle from Maine.”

“How’s Conway treatin’ ya?” Sig asked before sipping his beer.

“Copacetic, so far.”

“Bill, this is my girlfriend Melanie,” Sig said wrapping his beefy arm around her.

“Nice to meet you,” he said coughing from the toke he’d taken off the joint, all the while thinking how much Melanie resembled Hugh Hefner’s girlfriend Barbi Benton.

“Same here.”

“There’s chips and finger food if you’re hungry and beer in the cooler. Help yourself,” Eli said letting his hair down.

“Thanks.”

A sweet euphoria began to creep over Bill as he sauntered off. With the music playing and the warm sun shining he relaxed his shoulders and enjoyed it. He combed the yard, searching for Sam until he spotted her with her mother. They were standing in the doorway, glaring at the man with the scar on his face. Bending over, Bill opened the Coleman-chest-cooler and pulled out a Schlitz. He popped the top off and took a sip of the ice cold beer.
Satisfying
. Making his way back to Eli and Sig he unnoticeably stole a few glances at the two ladies.

 Vanessa fidgeted with her hands. Bill could read Sam’s lips. She was repeating the same words over and over,
it
’
s all right.
After several minutes they reservedly drifted towards the man with the scar. Eli must have been observing as well, he quietly bowed away and joined them.

The face on the man with the scar grew sad, his brow heavy. He hands were held up, his palms open like he was about to deliver a sermon. The words,
I
’
m sorry for what happened,
falling from his lips. They spoke for a short while before Eli waved Bill over.

“Bill, come on ovah.”

“Bill this is Hubble. Hubble, this is the kid from Rhode Island I was telling ya about. He’s helping me do the demo work on the lake house.”

“What it is kid?” Hubble said taking Bill’s hand and grasping it like one of those new V-shaped hand grippers you see advertised on TV every day. Bill squeezed back with the same equal force. Hubble grinned and yanked his sweaty hand away.

“It’s going,” Bill replied with a smirk. Bill could size someone up instantly and could tell that Hubble was one of those men.
Someone who always has something to prove, no matter what the cost. And certainly not someone you should ever turn your back on.

“Take it easy,” Bill said before turning to face Eli.

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, go through the kitchen, John’s second door on the right.”     

“Thanks.” Bill was entering the house when he felt someone’s hand brush against his arm. He looked back.

“You’re not leaving are you?” Sam’s upper lip was curled, her eyes affectionately fixed on his.

“No, just using the men’s room.”

“Cool.” Sam twirled her hair around her finger. Her words and flirty ways caused Bill to smile. He felt good in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

“Samantha,” Vanessa called out, motioning with her hand, the red polish on her long well-kept nails sparkling in the sun. Leaning in close to her daughter’s ear, Vanessa whispered, “What were you saying to Bill just now?” With a smitten look Sam remained quiet.

“We don’t know this guy, he just moved here,” Vanessa said removing a cigarette from her pocketbook. Her attention turned, she shot a quick frown at Hubble who was talking with Eli. “I’ve said hello, now I’m ready to leave.”

“Mom, I’d like to hang a while.” 

“Fine, have Eli drive you home and don’t stay too long.” Vanessa hugged her daughter.

***

Hubble watched from afar, his pale brown eyes never leaving Vanessa. He knew she wasn't much of an actress and could see it in her eyes, there was revulsion in them.
She simply appeared to have moved on, but she hadn
’
t
.
I can forgive you, she said. Bullshit.

With Vanessa gone, Hubble could now ogle at what was giving him a hard-on, Sam’s ass. He liked the way her tight jeans fit it.
So round, so firm, how good it would feel to grab it, or better yet bite it.
A slap on the back from Sig broke his train of thought.

“Feeling like old times,” Sig said sipping his beer. 

“Yeah man, just like old times,” he replied playing the part of a reformed man, his eyes still trailing Sam as she vanished into the garage.

Sam’s index finger ran down the gleaming chrome buckhorn-handlebar, over the bicycle blue and white gas tank, and onto the cool black leather solo-seat. She grabbed the handle with her left hand, threw her leg over the frame and straddled the bike. Closing her eyes, she pictured herself driving down the coastline. Hubble came up behind her, thinking how sexy she looked with the powerful machine between her legs. “I could teach ya how to ride that, if you like?” Sam opened her eyes, her head darting in Hubble’s direction. She rolled her eyes and got off the motorcycle.

“No, you look good on there. I bet you could ride the hell out of that bike.”

“Oh, no,” Sam replied forcing a smile. She felt his eyes on her body, a prickly uneasiness crawled up her back, like some giant daddy longlegs.

“I remember you when you were this tall.” Hubble extended his arm low to the ground.

“I remember you,” Sam said recalling how Hubble would come by the house and party with her dad. On more than a few Saturday mornings she would find Hubble passed out on the couch.

“It’s much cooler in here,” said the voice behind Hubble. Sam was thankful to see Bill and went around Hubble to tug on Bill’s arm. She was smiling but hoped Bill could read her face. She was rattled, and could still feel Hubble's eyes on her as they walked away. 

***

Bill could hear the sound of engines starting out front. People were beginning to leave. Eli was walking with a group of seven burly men, all wearing vests with the initials OMC printed on the back. Bill and Sam followed them out to the street and stood by Eli. The men got on their bikes, one by one each of them revving their engines. The whole scene reminded Bill of the movie with Marlon Brando,
The Wild One,
when Brando’s gang gets kicked out of town.  Reaching into his jeans Bill took out his car keys.

“I’m gonna take off, thanks Eli,” Bill said. 

“Take it easy dude, we’ll rap next week.”

Bill was half way down the street when he thought he heard his name being called. He imagined it was the pot before seeing Eli and Sam coming towards him. 

“Hey man, can you drive Sam home for me?”

“Sure.”

 “Are you cool with that doll?” Elis blue eyes were engaging, heartfelt and sincere.

“I’m cool,” Sam replied with a school girl grin.

“I love your Jeep,” Sam said opening the door and swinging her cocoa brown legs in.

“Thanks.”

“Do you remember how to get to my house?” she asked fastening her seatbelt before turning on the radio.

“Yeah, got it. Is everything OK?” Bill asked lowering the volume.

“Weird is more like it.”

“Weird how? Is that guy Hubble related to you or something?”       

“God, no. That whole thing was my uncle’s way of getting me and my mom to move on.” Sam rolled down the window and let her hand swoop up and down with the air current.

“Move on, how so?” Bill asked making quick eye contact. 

“Eight years ago the state of Massachusetts said Hubble was responsible for my father’s death, so they locked him up at Cedar Junction down in Walpole.” Sam leaned over, picked up the Nike shoe box and began digging through the cassettes.

“Hubble was driving my dad’s car the night they hit a telephone pole in Boston. He was drunk.”

Bill shook his head thinking how hard that must have been on Vanessa and Sam. “So, he only did eight years?” 

“Yeah, I was always told ten to twelve, good behavior or something, whatever.  I know it still bothers Eli, although he believes everybody deserves to be forgiven and given a second chance.”

“Was Eli close with his brother, your dad I mean?”

“Yeah, they were tight.” Sam pushed her hair away from her face as she continued looking through the shoebox.

“Hubble started calling our house after the accident.  He calls maybe once a year. I think he knew he was getting out sooner. My mother says no. She also says he’s trying to make peace, I dunno. I’ve heard her on the phone with him, it’s strange.” 

“Strange how?” Bill asked adjusting the rearview mirror.

“It’s like, he calls and says how sorry he is for what happened but then he asks questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Jeez, I dunno, just like these random questions.”

“Huh.”

“I know my mother really loved my dad, but the last two years he was alive I hardly ever saw him. I guess he was messed up badly on drugs. I just like, don’t know if I wanna be friends with the guy who killed my father.”

Bill could hear the conflict in her voice,
accepting someone who killed her
dad was a lot to overcome.

“Still, Eli says to forgive and forget. Hubble just seems creepy to me.”

“I didn’t really care for him either. So, are you also into motorcycles,” Bill asked trying to turn the conversation.

“I’m not sure if I’m into motorcycles, but boy I do love Eli’s Harley. He’s let me drive it a few times. We hang out a lot at his house, last year he restored it, he talked and I listened. To me that bike is more like a piece of cool vintage art. It’s got those shiny buckhorn-bars, that chrome-eyebrow-mount and all those beautifully integrated parts in the middle. Oh and that blue paint, just bitch’n.”

Taking an 8-track cartridge from the box Sam pushed Gordon Lightfoot’s
Sundown
into the player. She turned up the volume and started singing. Bill noticed her hips moving in the seat, her arms swaying back and forth,
she was captivating
.

Turning down Sam’s street Bill lowered the volume and pulled up to the curb. As Sam reached around and undid her seatbelt, he noticed her tan line under the shirt she was wearing. Bill tried to look away fast, but Sam’s smile let him know it wasn’t fast enough.