She smiles.
“Well, I can’t let just anyone in. I’ll need to see your portfolio.”
“My portfolio?”
“Mmhm. I need to see examples. Like your sketchbook. Let me see it.”
She takes her backpack off, opens it up, and she’s just about to pull out her sketchbook and show it to me when a horn honks behind us and she jumps.
“Viiiiiiiiic!” the deep voice calls. “Vicious! Hey! Just the guy I was looking for!”
CHAPTER THREE - VIC
His actual, real-life name is Jeeves. No shit. His parents actually named him Jeeves.
Of course, I can’t really fuck with him about this because my parents named me Vicious. So.
Princess and I are currently in his truck winding our way around Horsetooth Reservoir, heading up towards the private campground his buddy, Sketch, runs with his old lady, Mouse.
They are… colorful people. Biker people. Good people, for sure. But I’m not talking downtown biker people like Spencer. I’m not even talking my kind of biker people. I’m talking campground biker people. The kind who live up in the hills.
“Thanks so much for doing this, Vic,” Jeeves says. He takes the turn around the hill a little tight, so the conversation pauses while we all tilt to the left and then straighten out. “Seriously,” he continues. “It’s the Moran family reunion this weekend. And you know how those Morans like their tats at the reunion. Fuckin’ Ratty got the listeria from a bad cantaloupe a couple months back, and he’s just never been the same. And all the other inkers are fucking busy this weekend with other shit.”
“They’re probably at the tattoo art show,” Princess says.
“Yeah.” I yawn. “Probably.” I thought the all-nighter was catching up with me an hour ago. This long drive up a winding mountain in the sunshine isn’t doing me any favors. I’m about to pass out. “I get it, Jeeves. It’s cool. I like those guys. They’re pretty fun. And it’s been a while since I saw Angel Moran. How’s she doing?”
“Married. Four kids.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“She’s hitched to Robby Fiorucci.”
“OK then.” I laugh. “I’ll stay away from her.”
Robby Fiorucci is a bona fide maniac. Like… he’s what you think of when you picture a biker in your head. Bearded, tatted, low, growly voice, bandanas, black leather, and boots that thud when you walk. I mean, I’m all those things too, but I don’t live off-grid in the fucking mountains. He comes from a make-my-day kind of family.
So yeah, I’m gonna stay far, far away from Angel Moran today.
Again, the Fioruccis are not bad people. For the most part. Despite decades of trying, the sheriff has never uncovered a single dead body up on their land. So I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. I’m a live-and-let-live kind of man. Until someone fucks with me and mine, it’s all good.
“Here we are,” Jeeves says. We pull onto a dirt track that barely qualifies as a road. It’s been at least ten years since I spent any time up here, but it hasn’t changed much. The pine trees encroach on the road so that the branches almost form a canopy overhead. It’s a little bit creepy. And for a minute I’m wondering if this place is kid-friendly.
But then we come out into a clearing with at least a hundred tents and there are literally packs of children running around. Wild kids. Heathen kids. Hill kids.
“Ohhh,” Princess says. “Pony rides!”
They’re not ponies. They’re donkeys. And I’m giving that whole operation the side-eye when Jeeves cuts in. “Don’t worry. They’re tame. The Morans use them for packing in the mountains. And it’s all free.” Jeeves glances at me. “So you can let her run while you work.”
I turn in my seat and look at the niece. “What do ya think, princess? You gonna be OK while I ink some people up?” She nods, not even looking at me. Just staring out at all the activity. And boy, is it busy up here. There are hundreds of people. And it smells wonderful.
Jeeves must notice me sniffing the air as he parks his truck in a field of knee-high grass. “This family takes their meat serious. They got it all, princess,” Jeeves says, picking up on my nickname for her. “You like venison? Moose? They even have jackalope hotdogs.” He winks at her in the mirror.
Princess giggles. Then she actually sighs. Like this is the best day of her life. And when we get out of the truck, she’s already trying to gravitate towards a pack of kids waiting in line by the donkeys. But I grab her hand real quick before she can escape.
“Hey.” Jeeves nudges me. “They really are tame.”
“I’m not worried. My nieces all ride. She’s got her own pony at home. So… fuck it. She’ll be OK.”
Jeeves kinda gives me a weird look, but then he smiles and says, “Cool. Let’s go this way. The tat tent is over here.”