When my blood runs warm with the warm red wine
I miss the life that I left behind
But when I hear the sound of the blackbirds cry
I know I left in the nick of time
Well this road I’m on’s gonna turn to sand
And leave me lost in a far off land
So let me ride the wind til I don’t look back
Forget the life that I almost had
If I wonder til I die
May I know who’s hand I’m in
If my home I’ll never find
And let me live again.
The voice had coo’ed in her eyes. It was the perfect kind of music for a night like this. The air was slightly warm but cool against her skin. Her eyes blinked slowly as she thought about that night in Long Beach. His scent was rich and not too musky. There was just something about the way it felt on her skin and way he tasted as she kissed along his neck. His hands weren’t calloused but had enough rough texture that she knew she was being held by him. She smiled at the thought. She wondered where he was now. It had been a decade since she had been back on the West Coast. She made a silent note to herself about getting back there.
Kate settled in. She took a deep breath – almost as if she was trying to pull in the air of the memory.
She hadn’t spoken to her mom in the last year or so. It was probably for the best though. She never got along with her mom after her dad had passed on. It wasn’t that she was just a “daddy’s girl” – she had become his world. A trip to the doctors revealed that they had gotten lucky in the creation of one child. Due to old injuries and biological chances – having another child was mostly impossible. Sure they probably tried, but it never happened. She thought it made her mom bitter that dad always dotted on her.
She opened her eyes and focused.
Her dad never hid the fact that he wanted a son. Every man wants to have a child to carry on the family name. It was his vision of immortality. His genes were his father’s and his father before him and so on. The faces change but the blood remains the same. However, this isn’t to say he treated her any less than his own. Her mother often complained that she was going to be raised up a tom boy to the point where the boys aren’t gonna want her when she was older. Both she and her dad often made “eww” faces at the thought of boys. She smiled and said to the night air, “Guess you were wrong about that too mom.”
She exhaled slowly and squeezed her hand into a fist.
It was beautiful. The orange and yellow glow added to the night air as she looked at the fire. She rolled on to her back and looked at the moon. It has been a busy month. It was the fourth time Kate had to come out…at least the money was good. She had really missed her dad. Her mom called them “BJ & Hawkeye” after the MASH TV show. Her dad had the same thick mustache that BJ Honeycutt had. She shook her head and silently blamed her father for her geeky mustache obsession. Hawkeye never grew one – but that was fine with her. Little girls with mustaches would not do.
Donna packed up the rifle and closed the case. She wondered why people still drove Pintos around. It was kind of silly. One good hit from behind or an incendiary bullet aimed at the gas tank and the entire care goes up like a roman candle. Guess intelligence and style were the cost of being a gangster.
Song “Longer I Run” by Peter Bradley Adams