139 The Truth Thing

We sat upon the cement wall of the river that coursed from the Sierra Madres into the Sans Joking River Valley, beers in hand.

Katheena was a chick who loved her Negra Modelo beer. How cool is that? Quite smooth. She bought it herself. No furtive bums involved. No stealing involved from them sort of folks. She drove us to an Imported Liquor store that also sold really good beer, and it was called Burby And Bates. She showed her I.D. card to the owner, but he already knew her from previous purchases. Then she walked out like a boss lady, a rack in each hand.




Clean. Gobless her, and her fake I.D.



Dayam, son.









I was learning things from her. I would learn quite a bit from this curvy Thai lady who held the whole world in her grasp at that time, back in the mid 80’s.



You know that I had started this Truth Thing back at that excellent, authentic Messican restaurant. But Katheena took it further, between us two, and for all of We The Punks. She finally got a hold of her “Mettle,” and this here is the story of how Katheena found her awesome, mighty power.




Huh.









“Will, you shouldn’t blame yourself for Tommy Hewitt’s death. He would always do what ever he wanted to do.”


“No Katheena. I could have saved him.”



As fresh as the water felt on my bare foot, with the spring-time runoff from melting snow running across it, I felt the burning heat of perdition in my sole. I had driven my rocket ship in a naked manner, and crashed to the desert dust bare-footed.




Doing such a thing in such a manner will cook your feet from the limited protection of the so-called “firewall” between you and the engine compartment.



Hell, I was still finding scratches and cuts from the popcorn glass sharp pebbles in my junk that had pelted my naked body from the angry biker dude and his flung tire iron at my windshield.


At Matilda’s windshield.


Fucking asshole.



I dipped the other foot in to cool it as well, and this did not help. But Katheena looked up at the mountains in the distance for a clear view of things.


She said, “Listen to me. I tried to save him once. But he only had eyes on something else.”


“You?”





“No. He thought he had something for me. But in the end, and why I broke up with him, is that he had no control of his demons.”


“Uh, what?”




Katheena sipped her beer and stood up, lovely backside to the cement water canal, perky breasts up front to me. This showed Trust. It would have been funny to push her into the water behind her.


So I did.







OK, you know me enough by now. Kinda a nanabush, a jokester, am I.






Katheena waved her arms said, “Tommy blew me away. He was fucking excellent. He had the style, the dance moves on the floor, and a suave way about things. You should have gotten to know him better.”


She revealed the little Lion Man's dance moves perfectly, and even spun back around, as if she herself wore a smoking jacket made out of shark skin that whipped the air with vehemence and style.


Evidently, Joey, little Lion Man, had learned something from Tommy Hewitt. But Katheena was dancing like Tommy, that cool bastard.




Hah?



I was impressed, but I did not mention that I had not all that much time after meeting Tommy before Fat Jerry broke a dining room table by picking it up and running with it into some huge and well-armed men at Tellesco’s ranch before All Hell Broke Loose.


You recall, don’t you baby?


I said, “I would have considered him a friend, if I had gotten to know him better. But there’s a reason I told you about him warning Joey against you."

Dayam.




"Are you going to throw your drink in my face again?”


Katheena looked like she wanted to, but she restrained.


Instead, she said, “Why the fuck do you keep going over that shit again?”

I was relieved, sorta. “Because it matters. Katheena, between you and me, it matters. It means everything.”




“What the hell are you talking about?”


“I tell you Katheena, I thought you and I would have been perfect together.”




“We are, Will. But not in the way that you mean.”

“Huh.”





“I’m sorry Will.”

“Uh, well, I kinda figured.”





“What do you mean?”


“Uh, well, because of what else Tommy Hewitt told me.”







Fuck. No turning back.





Ya know.











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