ALL THE RAGE (writer: T.M. Frazier)(56)

Joker.

I swiveled in my chair, the afternoon sun shone against his back, his grey beard longer than ever.

“You never did know how to f*cking knock,” I said.

Joker shrugged and leaned up against the couch. He pointed to my wrinkled shirt and unshaven face. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks. Hello to you too,” I said, taking a swig of my beer.

“So let me get this straight,” he started, running his hand down his long silver beard, which was braided and tied together at the end with a red elastic band. “Is all this self-pity shit still over hockey? ’Cause you look like you got some * problems to me. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share myself, can recognize that pitiful shit from a mile away.” Joker walked over to the fridge and helped himself to a beer. “So who’s the * that’s gotten away with your balls? It’s not that cunt Jessica is it?”

“Fuck no. I haven’t thought about that bitch since the day I rolled into this place,” I scoffed. Rage was it for me. It was like the second she came into my life, Jessica ceased to exist.

“Yeah, I saw the Instagram video. Bitch looks like she gives lousy head anyway,” Joker said, twisting the top off his beer and tossing it across the room into the sink.

“You have an Instagram account?” I asked. The man had trouble working the remote.

Joker nodded. “Yeah, but it’s mostly to keep up with the grandkids. Ever since Sally moved to Georgia, she’s been making sure to upload new pics of the kids every day for me and my old lady. It’s not like I post anything. Pretty sure the FEDS monitor that just like they do everything else we do. Would be a shame to go down the river for a f*cking selfie with a semi-auto in the background with scrubbed numbers.”

I chuckled. “Ain’t that the f*cking truth.”

“Speaking of whores,” Joker said. “If it ain’t the cock sucker on the Internet that’s got your panties all twisted, then who is it? ’Cause way I’m thinking, you’ve got to be pretty bad off to be ignoring your Prez’s calls.”

“I was ignoring my uncle’s calls,” I corrected him. “Not my Prez’s. And… the rest is complicated.” I sighed. “So f*cking complicated.”

“I came over to check up on you, but I also came over to find out where your head’s at, which I’m guessing is another reason you’ve been ignoring my calls. I’m sorry about your leg. Shit sucks real bad, especially after a special exception was made for you. Nobody else ever got a leave of absence from the club for any reason. But we had faith in you, kid, so that’s why we voted the way we did.” Joker came over and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Still do.”

“I don’t know where my f*cking head’s at,” I admitted.

Joker’s tone very quickly went from polite to dead serious. “You do know coming back ain’t optional. If hockey’s a dead deal, you’re back and you’re putting on that cut. Simple as that. Frankly, I’m surprised you ain’t got it on already, the way you said they were telling you, you was never gonna put on skates again.” Joker sighed. “You made promises to your brothers when you patched in, and I’m gonna hold you to them, just like I would anyone else,” he said, his words carrying all the warnings that didn’t need repeating. I’d always knew coming back wasn’t optional.

“It ain’t a matter of coming back. I left the town, not the club. Just because I couldn’t wear a cut around campus didn’t mean I wasn’t a brother anymore, you know that” I said. “I haven’t put my cut back on yet because I feel like if I do, that I’m kissing all the other shit good-bye and I’m not ready to do that yet. Leg’s feeling better, much better. I’ve got to see what this knee’s got left in her and I’ll do it. Soon. But right now I’ve got some other pressing matters.”

“Like waiting on some whore?” Joker asked.

“She’s not some whore,” I said between my teeth. If Joker were anyone else, he’d have my fists in his face already. “It’s more than that,” I said, leaning forward and rubbing my temple. I ran my hand over my face and looked up at my uncle, who was waiting for me to elaborate. “I don’t know what you want me to say. She left. I can’t find her. Got people on it, though.” I finished my beer and walked over to the fridge to grab another.

Joker wandered over to the wall of family pictures my gran had made. Frame after cheap frame of black and white photos, which started at the top of the wall, led down to Polaroid’s and printed pictures, pinned on a corkboard. They were mostly of me. There were a few spots on the wall with yellowed frame outlines from the pictures that used to be there of my parents. I’d torn them all down the second I ended their lives.

Rocking back on his heels with his hands intertwined behind his back, he inspected the pictures as if he were looking for something. “Ah,” he said, plucking one from high up on the wall. “You see this?” he asked, pushing the wooden, green frame into my hands.

The picture inside looked as if it were probably from the seventies. Slightly blurry, the color faded. My gran and gramps were on his bike and next to them was another bike with Joker and a woman I didn’t recognize. I’d never seen or bothered to look at this picture before, but that wasn’t anything unusual, there were hundreds, and this one blended in with the pack. “Who’s that?” I asked, pointing to the woman.