Earning the Cut Read online

  ***

  Just like the first time, it was wholly unexpected to find an ally in Maxwell. Dax was surprised to find out that his principal could catch a wave. Usually, there was no one else out that early. He had figured out how to ride his bike while securing his board under his arm. After it became more and more weighted from the water trapped inside, Dax just found a place at the beach to stash the behemoth. It was there every morning, waiting for him, like a silent partner in crime. The Bodeckers thought he was at school so no one was the wiser. Usually, the sun was barely rising as he paddled out. Despite the frigid water, he was drawn to the early morning hours, seeking the solitude and power that could only be found in the ocean at that time. When Dax came ashore an hour later, exhausted and sated, too tired to deal with his own turbulent emotions, he became aware that he wasn’t the only one on the beach that day.

  The lone figure paddled out on a longer board. Most of the other guys on the surf team had scoffed at longboarders. Dax recognized that the other surfer was an older guy, though. As he watched from his vantage point on the sand, the old man caught several waves, walking his nose like an expert. Dax had to admit it; he was impressed. Until the other man rode a nice wave to shore and then made a beeline for Dax’s towel.

  “Daxter.”

  “Maxwell.”

  “Haven’t seen you around in school.”

  “Haven’t been there.”

  “I noticed. Dax, is everything okay?”

  Dax could feel that the man genuinely wanted to help him, but even so, he let his distrust and melancholy take over. “Everything is as it always has been.” His voice sounded gruff and harsh to his own ears. He fumbled in his backpack for his lighter.

  “Look, Dax. I know things have been rough, okay. I want you to know that…well, that I believe in you, kid. I think you could really be something. You know, overcome your circumstances.”

  “How’s that?” His affect was bored and aloof as he rummaged in his ripped, blue bag. “What exactly do you see me becoming? Doctor? Lawyer? Engineer?”

  Maxwell sighed. “Look, kid. I get it. You were dealt a bad hand. But you’re smart, Dax. Don’t let Wagner and his influence fuck you out of your chance for a better life.”

  Dax had never heard the principal swear before. As he regarded Maxwell somewhat suspiciously, Dax realized suddenly that of the two of them, he was the more dominant. “My life is perfect, Maxwell.” Dax sparked up a joint, taking a long pull and exhaling right in the principal’s face. To his credit, Maxwell didn’t react at all, other than to shrug away the look of disappointment that appeared fleetingly on his face.

  “Shouldn’t smoke, kid. Causes cancer.” Maxwell stood then and looked up the cliff, presumably to where he had parked his car. “Look Dax. If you want to come back to school, “I’ll look the other way in terms of the last few weeks. You can still graduate. Okay?”

  Dax shrugged again, welcoming the numbing sensation that his hand-rolled chronic wrapped around his brain. He stared out into the horizon, getting lost in the mesmerizing blues and greens coupling with the shards of sunlight that glinted off of the murky depths. After a time, he checked back in and realized that he was alone. Maxwell was gone.

  ***

  Dax was barely keeping himself in check at home. He snuck out every morning and either hit up the beach or the park during the day. He had his two strikes and Mr. Bodecker had made it very clear that if he fucked up again, he’d be out on his ass. The thing was, Dax just couldn’t make himself follow the rules anymore. He bent them, stretched them, and eventually he blatantly ignored them, but he managed to avoid getting in trouble for a while. Report card time had occurred when he had actually been attending school. All that was left was the end of spring semester and then graduation. Fuck it. He could never picture himself walking across the stage in that ridiculous cap and gown, smiling and shaking Maxwell’s hand like he had done him a good fucking turn. Fuck that!

  Dax made a point to return to his place of residence before his fake folks got in from work. He showered the sand and lingering aroma of weed from his shaggy, white-blond hair and tried to look presentable at dinner. Luckily, the Bodeckers weren’t much for conversation, at least not with him. Mr. Bodecker spent lots of time discussing Michelle’s college aspirations and Kathy seemed to avoid looking at Dax altogether, choosing to direct most of her attention on the twins. Dax was like a stranger in his own home. Not that it felt like his home. These were feelings that he had always had.

  Despite all the pot he smoke during the day, The feelings of restlessness that seemed to pervade his soul prompted him to develop a serious case of insomnia. Dax smiled ruefully. His meager allowance from mowing the lawn was recycled into more grass. He quite liked the irony of that. As was customary, Dax waited until it was lights out. The house became quiet and still around 9:00 p.m. Like clockwork. So, like clockwork, he stowed his journal back in his desk and slipped out into the night, seeking anything to soothe the frustrating disquiet in his soul.

  He knew that biker bar was bad news but something about the place felt familiar. Dax found himself loitering in the alley in the dead of the night. The faint smell of trash and a lonely meowing noise emanated from a nearby dumpster. He tilted his head back, leaning against the cold brick and sighed. He was looking for trouble and he found it with an ease that suggested the trouble had been lying in wait for him all along.

  “Well, well. Look who’s back.” Her voice was laced with obvious irritation, but interest too.

  Dax fired up his joint and regarded the broad with cool indifference. It was the same chick from the first night he had ended up here outside of Lenny’s. She was older than him, but actually Dax saw that she wasn’t as haggard as he had originally thought. Nope, actually the broad was kinda doable.

  “Share a toke?” She reached out for his doobie. Her nails were painted black.

  He shrugged, offering her a drag. She exhaled slowly, letting the white smoke out in a practiced breath. A rumble signaled the arrival of a bike and Dax watched as a stocky guy with a goatee parked it and unstrapped his helmet. Then, he helped his female passenger dismount, sweeping the girl into his arms for a lusty kiss. They headed for the front door and the guy smacked the chick’s ass, making her squeal. He slipped his arm around her, and they entered the bar together. A stifled sniffle redirected his attention to the girl next to him.

  He offered her the joint again, wondering what had occurred to make her cry. She wiped a lone tear from her cheek and smiled gratefully, taking the hand-rolled joint from him. “Am I-am I really that used-up looking?” she asked softly, echoing his comment from several weeks before.

  “Nah. You’re pretty hot, actually.” The lazy, flirty grin he shot her felt so comfortable on Dax’s face that he was hardly aware that it was a new expression.

  “You’re pretty cocky for a kid.”

  “Do I look like a kid?” he countered, straightening up to his full height. He was at least a head taller than she was.

  She looked him up and down, sizing him up. He caught the appreciative widening of her eyes as they roved over his muscled chest and finally settled on his face. She looked into his eyes for a second before flushing and looking away. “No. Not at all, actually. You could pass for 21, easy. But, if you weren’t a kid, wouldn’t you be inside the bar, instead of lurking around in the alley?”

  “Hot and smart. What’s your name, darlin’?”

  “Penny.”

  “Dax.”

  They shook hands, and she giggled awkwardly. “I like your name. It’s different.”

  “You’re even prettier when you smile, Penny.” It was weird-how natural it felt to assert himself with chicks. Lately, Dax felt older and more self-assured…more confident all around when it came to girls. Maybe his masculine assertiveness was limited to his dominant sexuality, though. Deep inside, he couldn’t deny that he still suffered from a shitstorm of insecurities.

  Penny blushed. “Um, thanks.” She looked
at him again. “Yeah, you definitely don’t seem like a kid, Dax.”

  “Not a baby then, huh?” he teased, letting her know that he also recalled the comments that were made several weeks before.

  She blushed harder. “Hey, I’m sorry about that. We were kind of drunk, I was being a bitch I guess.”

  Dax shrugged. “So, Penny. You’re no kid, either. Why are you out here in this alley with me when you could be inside yourself?”

  Penny’s shoulders sagged. “I guess you could say I’ve been demoted.” At his confused look, she continued. “I used to be an old lady. I guess now I’m just a Phantom stalker.”

  “A what?”

  “You know, The Phantoms? They’re the crew that hangs out at this bar. I used to be with one of them.” She sighed heavily. “Listen, Dax, you’re easy to talk to and you seem pretty cool. But, you’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t get mixed up with these guys. It seems like a glamorous lifestyle, but it isn’t.”

  Dax raised an eyebrow as she straightened her shoulders and pulled her jacket more closely around her cleavage.

  “Thanks for the toke. See you around…kid.”

  He smiled at the affectionate way she said kid. “Later, Penny.” Yeah, definitely doable. She wasn’t that old. Not old enough to be called an old lady, anyway.

  The Phantoms. The name sounded easy on his ears. Dax looked at the row of bikes lined up neatly outside the bar. Compelled and slightly high, he wasn’t really aware of what he was doing until he was standing in front of the first Harley in the row of gleaming metal and reaching out a fingertip to brush the steel handlebar. What happened next changed the course of his whole life in a transformational way that was not to occur again until his late twenties.

  ***

  “Daxter Jamison! Wake up! You are in some serious trouble here, young man!”

  Dax groaned. He had gotten in so late it was practically considered early, and it was no surprise that he had overslept. At first, he thought he could feign illness. His head pounded and his stomach clenched, the stench of alcohol and cigarettes rolling off of his own body making him feel slightly ill. Even as Kathy Bodecker’s panicked voice grated on his hungover brain, a smile settled on his lips. Man, last night had been fucking crazy! He still couldn’t believe that he had ended up in the bar. Kathy’s voice droned on in the background of his hazy recollection like an annoying gnat as he sat up, the sheets falling away from his lean torso.

  Dax had been lingering near the bikes when the door to Lenny’s flew open. Expecting a bunch of half-drunk broads like the last time he had been hanging around, Dax was taken aback when three men approached. They wore leather vests and cocky smiles, giving him no notice at all. Of the three, two of the guys didn’t look all that threatening. Yeah, they were rough and hardened, but Dax knew instinctively that they had good hearts underneath their gruff exteriors. Something about the way the two carried themselves told him that.

  Dax had to fine-tuned his ability to judge a person’s character given the shit he had endured as a kid. Who he trusted was a matter of life or death. The skill was still useful, as he would come to find out. The third man--he gave Dax pause. Growing up in total instability, without the security of a real family, Dax had learned to trust his gut, and his gut told him that the guy on the left was bad news. Nervous at being caught too close to their bikes, he tried to slink back into the shadows as the trio conversed heatedly. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to go but there; any other path leading away from the bar would draw attention to himself, thanks to the streetlights.

  “We’re not that hard up, Crow. I ain’t trusting this patched-in imposter until he proves his ass.”

  “Fuck you, Hawk. I don’t need to prove my shit. Money talks.” The man on the left sneered.

  “Loony hasn’t given us any reason not to trust him.” The man called Crow replied. “Plus, we need this deal. We’re going broke trying to keep our noses clean. We need to branch out. If we don’t take advantage of what comes our way, we’ll be left in the dust. Look at the Sixers. They’re fucking done, man.”

  “Whatever.”

  In the dim light, Dax could make out the letters on the protestor’s vest. Vice President. There were also some words beneath the distinction but he couldn’t make them out.

  “Guns will help us, man. My boy has a solid connection. It means a lot of fucking dough. More than you boys have ever played with.”

  Dax was riveted, unable to turn away, as the three men talked about all manner of things he had never even imagined. Pussy, drugs, guns…it was like watching a crazy movie about the mafia. Only in this scene, the mafia was made up of a bunch of guys who sounded like they walked out of Nam and formed a club. Just as he figured it was time to sneak away, the man on the left sparked up a cigarette. The halo arching from his silver lighter illuminated the corner where Dax huddled. In synchronized unison, all three men turned to him as tension prickled down his spine.

  ***

  “Hey! You piece of shit! Get your ass over here you fucking eavesdropper!”

  Dax quickly surveyed his surroundings and it was obvious he was caught. The third man, Loony, looked pretty pissed off. Fighting the part of him that was scared, Dax squared his shoulders and nodded a greeting to the three men who stared at him.

  The one called Crow laughed. “He’s just a kid, man. Let him alone.”

  “I don’t like loose ends,” Loony grumbled, taking a few steps towards Dax.

  Everything in Dax was screaming to run, and run hard. But he just couldn’t. Instead, he pulled a joint from his pocket and sparked it up, affecting an air of cool indifference. “Hey, bro. Looks like you need to relax. Want a drag?” He offered the hand-rolled cigarette to Loony.

  Loony bristled. Just as Dax thought everything was about to go horribly wrong, the V.P. started to laugh uproariously. “He’s pegged you good, Loony Tunes!”

  The other man, Crow, laughed too, his eyes meeting Dax’s, crinkling at the corners. “Nice, kid. Pass it along, then.”

  Dax stepped forward, into the small circle of men framed by light from the streetlamp. He met the V.P.’s eyes and found them to be intelligent and curious, but somehow welcoming. As he handed the joint off to the man called Crow, he had the oddest feeling of déjà vu. It was almost like he imagined a kid with a real family would feel coming home.

  The next thing he knew, he was following the older men into the bar at their invitation. Well, it was more of a demand rather than a request, but Dax was excited. It was loud in there--the heavy door was an effective barrier against the noise. Music was playing, chicks were dancing, and Dax stopped short, not knowing his place. Then, someone shoved a beer into his hand.

  “I’m Hawk.”

  “Dax.”

  “Got a family, Dax?”

  “Not really.” He looked away, unsure of how to answer that question. “I got a place to stay…for now.” Dax entertained a brief feeling of deep foreboding, knowing that his time at the Bodeckers was seriously limited.

  “Ah. We’re kind of like a magnet for misfits.”

  Dax grinned, enjoying the feeling of acceptance that seemed to come from Hawk’s words. “Sounds like I’ll fit right in, then.”

  “Got a job?”

  Dax hesitated. He had never considered applying for a job-especially one in a biker bar! He was underage, but it seemed like these guys didn’t exactly play by the rules. He liked that. A lot. He shook his head.

  “Want one?”

  Dax sucked in his breath. For some reason, the chance to be connected to these guys, in any way at all, was highly attractive to him. “Sure, I guess.”

  Hawk waved over an older man with a large paunch. “Hey, Lenny! This kid’s with us. Give him something to do, will you?”

  Lenny brightened. “Fuck, thanks, man! I got a bunch of trash that needs to be dumped. Come on, kid.”

  Before long, Dax was sweating and exhausted from doing every kind of menial task Lenny could hurl hi
s way. He hauled ice, dumped endless loads of trash, and shuttled beers to a bunch of seriously drunk bikers and their friends. He brought Hawk, the obviously respected V.P., a round of beers, drawing a wary glance from the man called Loony. As he hustled back to the bar, he heard a snippet of conversation that he wasn’t sure how to interpret.

  “Yeah, I’m keeping the kid close. Don’t worry about him. He’s just a kid.”

  There appeared to be no last call at Lenny’s, but one by one, the customers started to either pass out or hook up, and the crowd thinned. As the last few patrons trickled out the door, Dax was surprised when Lenny handed him a glass of amber liquid.

  “Here, kid. You deserve it. You worked hard tonight.”

  Lenny clinked his own glass with Dax, and shot his drink immediately. Dax did the same, then coughed and choked as the liquid fire burned its way down his throat. “Fuck!” he sputtered. “What the hell is that, gasoline?!”

  Lenny smirked. “Good stuff, eh? My cousin makes it. The only thing he loves more than the Sox is some decent bootleg. Pretty fine brandy if I do say so myself.”

  Dax nodded as Lenny proceeded to fill his glass a second time. After the third shot, Lenny was snoring over a pile of receipts and Dax was stumbling to his bicycle, feeling like a toddler on training wheels as he made his wobbly way home.

  ***

  “Dax! Are you listening to me?!” God, Mrs. Bodecker’s voice felt like sandpaper scraping incessantly against his brain. Blearily, he regarded her, trying to bring the fuzzy image of his foster mother into focus. No more bootleg brandy!