But he was.
He didn’t share that with High.
He just said, “That’s not it.”
“What is it?”
“We went to high school together. We knew each other. Now, she doesn’t remember me,” Joker told him.
“Got that part of the story from Rush,” High replied.
“I haven’t enlightened her.”
High nodded even as he noted, “Also got from Rush she digs you.”
“She does, but, brother, I’m into her in a way that will hold for a good long while. She’s gotta know me. A woman played this scenario the way I’ve played it with Carrie, she’d see my back.”
High’s focus on him deepened. “I take your point.”
“I gotta come clean. I just don’t know how.”
“You mean you don’t know how without pissin’ her off so she takes off.”
Joker nodded. “That’s what I mean.”
“This is what I know, Joke,” High said, and his sudden change in tone made Joker brace. “You gotta be the man you are. You can’t be anything else. And she’s gotta get the man you are and want him, nothing else. To give her any shot at doin’ that, you can’t hold back who you are. Any of it. Then it’s down to her. She wants the man you are, fuck-ups and all, she sticks. She doesn’t, you don’t want her.”
Joker matched his tone when he confided, “I’ve wanted her since high school.”
“Why, ’cause she’s got a great ass?” High fired back.
Joker felt his jaw clench and through his teeth he replied, “Not even close.”
“Then come clean,” High returned. “You read somethin’ in this woman that she’s the one for you. You saw it in her all the way back then. She might make it tough on you, but if she’s that girl and you’re it for her like she is for you, this will be a bump in the road, but then you’ll ride steady.”
“Yeah, me and her and her ex who’s suddenly interested in reconnecting,” Joker muttered.
“Now that shit’s yours,” High declared, lifting a hand and stabbing a finger Joker’s way. “Word is he’s done her wrong in a way he’s not a man. You take care of your babies even if your ex is a bitch and you gotta do it through her. You eat that shit for your kids. His ex ain’t a bitch and he’s eatin’ model pussy and hangin’ his baby momma out to dry. Her ex is not a man, you’ll have no problem takin’ him down however that needs to be done.”
“Carissa isn’t the type of girl who would dig the way a biker would make his point by pissin’ around his patch,” Joker pointed out.
“That’s not what I mean,” High replied. “What I mean is, not a lotta woman want a limp dick in their bed, no matter the way that limp dick comes, he’s rollin’ in it or whatever. You are not that man. She sees that, she’ll put up with him because her kid shares his blood, but that’s all he’ll be to her. You man up for her and her kid, you’ll be the rest.”
He hoped like fuck that High was right. About all of it.
His phone in his back pocket rang and when it did, High asked, “You good?”
There it was. That was it.
His brotherhood.
That was why he joined. That was what he wanted.
It was just that, until recently, he hadn’t availed himself of all they could give.
Another fuck-up that he wouldn’t perpetrate again.
“Good, High. Thanks, brother,” Joker murmured, pulling his phone out of his jeans.
“Right, then later,” High returned and took off.
Joker looked at his phone, took the call, and put it to his ear.
“Tack.”
“Yo, Joke. Lee called in. Got a lock on your Robinson.”
Joker moved to his dresser, where there was now a bowl with his change in it. Change that used to be scattered everywhere, even on the floor.
He grinned and replied, “What’d he give you?”
“Teacher, like you said he was before. A high school in Highlands Ranch. Tenured. Married. Pays his taxes. Five years into his current mortgage—”
Joker cut him off. “I dig that Nightingale was thorough, but I don’t need to know that kinda shit.”
“Clue me in. What do you need?” Tack asked.
“He got a family?”
“Married. Once and still. They been that way for eleven years,” Tack told him.
“No kids?”
“Lee didn’t mention kids.”
“I’ll call Lee.”
There was a pause before, “Got it.”
“And Tack?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, grabbing his wallet and shoving it in his back pocket, loading the chain onto his belt.
“Anything, Joke,” Tack muttered back and disconnected.
Joker picked up his keys, shrugged on his cut, and moved to the door, his attention back to his phone, his thumb moving to Nightingale’s contact.
He listened to the rings long enough he figured he’d get voicemail before Lee answered on, “Joke.”
“Lee. Callin’ for some follow up on Robinson,” Joker told him.
“What do you need?” Lee asked.
“He got kids?”
“Nope.”
Fuck.
“How thorough were you?” Joker pushed.
“How thorough are we usually?”
He had everything.
“I know he and his wife lost a baby eight years ago. Wanna know where that led.”
“They’re still married.”
“Need more, Lee,” Joker said quietly. Having walked through the building, he was pushing through the front door to the Compound.
“Retained enough to report to Tack. Don’t know specifics of the file. I’m out of the office. Hang on, I’ll patch in Shirleen.”
Shirleen was Nightingale’s receptionist, and Shirleen used to be one half of a formidable aunt and nephew team that dealt dope in Denver. Shirleen and her nephew pulling out of that shit years ago opened it up for Valenzuela to wreak havoc.
Regardless of the consequences, it took balls, huge ones, for Shirleen to do that. He’d met her. He liked her. Because of that and because she was fucking hilarious, said it like it was, and had been a cold-as-ice drug dealer that hid a heart of gold, a heart she let shine now, it was impossible not to like her.
Suddenly Shirleen piped in. “This better be good. My nails are wet.”
“Shirleen. Got Joker on the line. Need you to pull up the Robinson file,” Lee ordered.