A Leap in the Dark (The Assassins of Youth MC Book 2)(9)
Gideon made a sound of disgust. “Pratt? Only that already he’s been the biggest bee in my bonnet, getting in the way of me making any progress here in town. He’s been mayor since ’95 when Chiles was first excommunicated from the mainstream church and came here to set up his fundy compound. Since then, the Avalanche town government hasn’t had a contested election, or even a political campaign.”
“Sounds about right,” I seethed. “Pratt’s a polyg too?”
“I think they all are, the whole town council, the chief of police. Only, of course, they can’t advertise it as freely as they do inside the walls.”
“So, you wouldn’t mind if he suddenly…vanished off the face of the earth.”
Gideon paused. I could understand his predicament. He couldn’t run around condoning taking some guy out when he was trying to build a town for himself. Then again, he hated Pratt, too. “I wouldn’t be too shaken up. You planning to pay us a visit?”
On a cheery note, I said, “I am, matter of fact. Jonah Garff—Dingo—mentioned some investment opportunities. As you can guess, I have some money I’d like to—” I looked around, although of course no one was listening. “Like to clean.”
“Well, come on down, Rockwell! You’re more than welcome. We’re buying up defaulted real estate at rock bottom prices. Houses that’ve never been lived in are going for a song, if you don’t mind nineties interior decorating styles.”
“I was thinking of more like starting a business.”
“Really? Well, come on down, let’s discuss it. Mi casa, su casa. In fact, I can put you up in an empty house I’m buying that’s in escrow. You’ll just have to share it with Mahalia’s sister.”
That sealed the deal for me. It was fate that I’d be thrown together with that priggish, superior bitch. “You know what? Text me Oaklyn’s phone number when you get a chance. That way she won’t be taken by surprise at my coming, and bash me over the head with a candlestick.”
Gideon chuckled. “She is pretty self-righteous, isn’t she? She’ll learn, though, being around my MC. No one’s a star. We all work as a team. A well-oiled team.”
When we hung up, I didn’t text Oaklyn about my arrival. I texted her a poem by Wordsworth. Maybe I wanted to show off my literary leanings., but ever since talking to her, the poem had been stuck in my head. Typing it out helped me cleanse my soul of all doubt about what I was doing, or what I planned to do.
How strange that all
The terrors, pains, and early miseries
Regrets, vexations, lassitudes interfused
Within my mind should e’er have borne a part,
And that a needful part, in making up
The calm existence that is mine when I
Am worthy of myself!
It was my turn to be smug. Oaklyn would probably have to google it, or she’d wonder who it came from, because I said nothing else.
I had nothing to prove to her. But I wanted her to know that I was fine just the way I was—she would never change me.
CHAPTER THREE
OAKLYN
Avalanche, Utah
It took Giovanni two days to call me back. Almost as long as the VD test results took.
By that time, as usual, I was fuming, a powder keg about to go off. I stood on the back second-story verandah of the house my sister had loaned to me. Pacing ten feet one way, ten feet back, I no longer admired the stunning backdrop of the colorful layers of Zion’s cliffs. For two days I’d been basking in the exquisite, flaming sandstone towers and summits to the east. I could see why Mahalia had decided to stay here, so close to the site of her former torture, the infamous fundamentalist stronghold of Cornucopia. That morning, the sun bouncing off the scarlet rock had been so fiery it had woken me up in a blaze of glory.
But the longer Giovanni didn’t call me back, the stronger I fumed. Not this again. I’m not even in Provo and he still manages to avoid me? I have got to find a way to break it off with this guy. He’s poison, but I love him.
“Baby, please!” Giovanni pleaded. I could tell he’d been snorting drugs because his nose was plugged up. Ironically, his behavior was causing me to take drugs, too. I’d gotten some anti-anxiety drugs from Mahalia three months ago. I liked them so much I was trying to find a way to get a prescription for more without my boss, an orthopedic sports surgeon, finding out. “Please, baby! You know how much I love you!”
“It’s a strange sort of love,” I seethed, “that forces you to stay out all night and stumble in at six in the morning.” He’d obviously stumbled in at six, fallen into bed, and was just now calling me at three. Only Giovanni could have gotten away with this at the age of thirty-three. His father bought him apartment buildings to renovate, and he could do it at his leisure. Any other guy would’ve had to have gotten a regular job a long time ago.
“I don’t know how I get so carried away!” he cried. “I just lose track of time. Besides, where are you? Where’s Avalanche?”
“It’s where Mahalia lives, as I’ve told you several times.”
“Oh, down near St. George? Me and my dad took a trip down through Zion once on our way to go house boating in Lake Powell. Man, there are some canyons and rivers in there—”