Page 64 of Spike

“So far,” Ireplied.

“Yeah, well, ifthat changes you let me know. My wife, quote-unquote, adores you, and I’ll beforced to tar and feather him, if he fucks up.”

“You’ll be thefirst to know,” I assured him.

“Anyone elsearound?” Spike asked.

“It’s been prettyquiet here all day. Minus sent some guys on a run, a few others are in theshop, and the Prez is with Cricket down at city hall, fighting with the zoningcommission over the skate park.”

My eyebrows shotup. “You guys are building a skate park?”

“It’s not for us,”Clutch said.

“Speak foryourself, old man,” Spike said.

Clutch punchedSpike’s arm again. Audibly harder this time.

Spike winced and smiled.

“It’s for theneighborhood kids,” Clutch said. “Two parks in Portland have closed down overthe past year and the locals are running out of places to skate.”

“Why build anotherpark if others are closing?” I asked.

“They’re closingbecause they haven’t been able to figure out how to turn a constant profit,plus cover the insurance costs. We don’t have to worry so much about that. Infact, we could lose money and it would still be a great tax write off.”

Spike nodded. “Notto mention, the good it will spread within the community.”

“If we can everget the zoning commissioner to sign off on our plans,” Clutch said. “Untilthen, the whole project is dead in the water.”

“My fatherprobably plays golf with the commissioner,” I said. “I wonder if there is someway I could convince him to put in a good word for the club.”

“And in othernews,” Spike said in an announcer voice. “Recent studies have shown that due toclimate change, the temperature in hell is decreasing rapidly.”

I smacked hischest playfully. Although, he was probably right. My father would more thanlikely be the last person who would want to help the club.

“It’s good to seeyou again, babe,” Clutch said, kissing my cheek. “I’ve gotta go pick upeyedrops for the kid, and then I’ve got a hot date with my wife and her fineass.”

“See you ’round,”Spike said, giving Clutch a chin lift as he made his exit. He then turned tome. “C’mon. There’s someplace special I want to show you.”

“What is it?” Iasked.

“It’s a surprise.”

“You should know Ihate surprises,” I said. “I peeked at my Christmas presents under the treeevery year, and I read the last page of every book, before I start it.”

Spike furrowed hisbrow. “War crimes. You should be brought up on war crimes.

He took me by thehand and led me back outside, through the center of the complex, out towards amedium-sized, standalone building, that stood about fifty yards away fromanything else.

“What is this?” Iasked.

Spike produced akey from his pocket and gave me a nervous looking smile. “I’ve never shownanyone my place before.”

“This is where youlive?”

Spike nodded.“Although, truth be told. I do more working here than living.”

He unlocked thedoor and ushered me inside to reveal a large, open workspace, littered withcarts, tools, and bins full of scrap metal and junk. In one corner of the roomwas a box spring and mattress, and next to it, an orange crate being used as anightstand. There was also a mini fridge and a hotplate, completing the totalamount of domestic items found within the space.

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