Page 2 of Mad Max

I smile at the one who spoke, noting the president patch on his vest as I slide onto the couch next to a guy who seems to take up two-thirds of it. “Is this your, um, place?”

He chuckles a bit as the others smirk. “Nah, just rented it. Rather have people wreck this place than ours, if you know what I mean.”

I nod along but really have no idea. No one comes over to my place, so I’m not sure if I would be up for throwing a party or not. It seems like the smart choice. People come into my office and move things around all the time for no reason other than just to fidget. If they do that at a place of work, then who knows what they’d do to a person’s home.

“You work in CPS with Lady?” he asks as he drinks from his beer.

“Sort of. More like her people know some people who I work with. We do a few interviews together sometimes. No biggie.” I look around and try to figure it out on my own, but I can’t, so I ask. “So… she interviewed one of you lot, or was it just a happy coincidence how those two lovebirds met?” I nod to the two who can’t keep their hands, or mouths, off each other.

“More like she put him under investigation,” a guy mumbles as he drinks his beer, but he has a smile, and I see the name Flint on his vest. I note that all of them are wearing vests, but the one next to me on the couch? On him, I notice something else.

“How long you been out?” I smile wide, sensing that everyone is now looking at me. I’m not taking my eyes off the beast on my left, who finally turns away from the crowd he’s been watching to acknowledge me.

“What?” he somehow growls and snarls at the same time, so deep that it’s almost unintelligible.

“The tat on your hand. Four dots around one in the middle. Prison, right? Must have been in a while if you got that inked, and I’m guessing it was while you were in, as the dots look a bit shaky.”

“You got something to say, sweetheart?” Their prez is no longer a friendly host, speaking in a clipped tone.

I turn my attention to him as I smile brightly. “My family always said the tats in prison hurt more than the ones done outside. Mostly because they had to go over the spot a few more times than normal, since it was by hand and no tattoo guns were available. But if you got the time, what else is there, right?”

“You got family in lockup?” This from the Flint guy.

“Yeah, down at El Dorado.”

“How much longer they got?”

“Well, it was just a count of life, but after the last assault against a guard, I think they raised it to two life sentences.”

“Don’t think that’s how it works,” the beast huffs as he turns back to look at the crowd.

“It does when you name is Jimmy Travis.”

The whip around almost has his shoulder-length wavy dark brown hair hitting my eyes.

I smile. I love when I get shit right. And I know I got this shit right.

“Thought I recognized you. I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s good to see you out. I’m happy for you.” I squeeze his knee and then put my hand on my lap as I lean back on the couch. Everyone’s staring like I have three heads, but I don’t care. It’s a normal look most people give me.

“You’re related to Jimmy Travis?” The prez eyes me skeptically.

I nod, but I don’t think he believes me. Probably why he keeps pushing the topic.

“The guy who went down for treason? But since no one can really say that, they just arrested him for killing his handler who went rogue from the agency and killed three girls after raping them?”

I’m not surprised he’s familiar with the story. Everyone knows about him. Though I’m mildly surprised that he put so much detail into his little speech. Almost as if he expects me to flinch or something.

Not me. Not for something regarding the only living family member I have left.

“Yeah, that’s him. My uncle. And this mega man was one of his inside guards when I came in to see him. Or that’s what I thought. But I’m guessing it was more to keep an eye on things and not necessarily Jimmy, huh?”

“Hired bulk, baby,” Flint chuckles.

“Well, he sure has it. I doubt you’re working out as much as you used to, but make sure you don’t go completely cold turkey and then try to start up again. It’s really not good for you. I knew a guy who was a bodybuilder all his life, then got dumped by his boyfriend and went on a food binge for six months. When he went back to the gym, he broke his wrists. Just completely went limp wrist when trying to pick up a dumbbell.”

The beast just blinks, and I scan the faces of the others. They’re either confused by me or openly laughing. I guess I said something funny. Not sure what, but I know I did something wrong.

I stare down at my hands and review what I said. It takes time, and all I can come up with is “limp wrist” for a gay guy is funny. I’m not going to ask if that was it. I used to ask, but that got me more odd looks, so I stopped.

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