Path of Ranger: Volume 1 (12 page)

“I betta go,” he said.

“Jerry, what does it mean?” she stepped towards him.

“It was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have.”

“You shouldn't have what? Come here? Or brought a gun to my home?”

The gangster opened the door and held it for the last time before leaving.

“You should keep away from me. You all should…”

JB went on, he closed the door to not see her anymore, as it was shameful for him. He would never come back there.

Two weeks passed. A spring break before the annual exams came. El’s group planned a trip to LA for that time. JB was invited to come along, but he couldn’t decide until the very last moment. He had accepted, though. It felt like a call from his hunch that he had to do that. Also, it was a perfect cover for him to come back to the USA. No one would suspect him being with that group.

The day of departure came. The flight was scheduled at twelve a.m. sharp. Everyone had to meet at terminal ‘D’ of Borispol Airport two hours before the flight. It was about that time. The group gathered up, just a couple of people were missing. JB included. Some of them considered him skipping the trip at that point, so they moved to the registration area.

Full of doubts and confusion JB was sitting in the VIP-bar for the last three hours. He wasn’t fond of places like that. Felt too smug to him, but it was quiet. Surrounded by about a dozen businessmen the gangster quietly raised the flask as if he would drink to them.

The news was on TV. The war again. At least in that bar they were showing a more or less trustworthy channel. JB didn’t care much for that, though. Somehow he didn’t care much for anything. Just turning a shiny flask in his hands. It had been a while since he had put on his biker sports pants. Also, he was dressed in a dim white t-shirt with torn off sleeves. The red leather ‘Converse All-Star’ and the white gold diamond chain and earrings were on him. The jewels took away that impression of cheapness from the rest of his outfit.

One thing JB noticed was funny about the place was that every new customer that entered tried to take a seat away from him. The thug looked intimidating compared to the rest of the visitors.

Time passed and Bridgers kept sitting there alone with his thoughts. He had decided to go along with the trip but wasn’t sure yet whether he was going to come back. The closer the flight was the stronger a need for the return to LA grew. But he didn’t want his old life anymore, he wanted something entirely new. Something that was worthy of living.

When the drink ran out, he pulled a clip of dollar bills from his pocket to leave one on the bar.

“A gift from the establishment, sir,” a bartender said, passing a branded gas lighter to JB.

“Thanks, man. Appreciate that.”

He thoroughly scanned the item and shoved it into the pocket.

“Wow! That’s a lot of money!” a girl’s voice sounded from behind. “Who’re you? A hitman or something? What’s your name?”

JB looked at a young teenager about fourteen years old. She took a seat next to him. She was pretty. The dark skin of a caramel shade, a well-shaped face, full lips, dark, thick hair, and she was rather tall for a girl. She wore colored jeans, a white-pinkish hoodie, and light sneakers. The gangster smiled, nodding his head slightly. The girl seemed cute to him.

“The last time a woman walked on me like that I ended up lying with two bullets in my chest,” JB said when hiding his money pack.

“My name is Mia,” she reached with a hand for a shake him. “Are you gonna tell me your name?”

“JB," he shook it.

Bridgers looked around to find some hint of where that kid might have come from.

“So, a woman shot you, JB? Huh?”

“No, a couple of douchebags, who worked with her, were doing the shooting.”

“Why did they need to use a woman at all, then?”

“So I would take off the vest.”

“And why didn’t just go for the head?”

“Because they were idiots.”

He made an emphasis on the word ‘were’ to scare the girl off, but it seemed to drive her interest even more.

“Can I see the scars? Do they look like this one?” she pointed at the long scar on his neck.

Meanwhile, JB noticed an adult woman that looked like Mia. She was in a company of a well-dressed man, but it seemed as they had just met. JB assumed that he started to understand what was going on.

“What do your tattoos mean?” Mia asked.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he said.

“Doing wrong what?” she fidgeted.

“Your plan ain’t gonna work,” he sipped from the flask. “You’re here to manipulate your mom, right? Thought that you’d find a guy that looks like… well, me. And make a show where she could watch you right from that table.”

Seeing as JB nodded at the table where the mulatto woman and the man were, Mia exhaled sadly.

“If you wanna make your mom really nervous, you need a different approach.”

“What, are you an expert or something?”

“In irritation? Oh, yes.”

“Prove it!”

“Several thousand men wish to see my head off, back in LA, and most of them have never met me.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“The first thing: drop the rebel look. Sneakers, torn jeans, hoodie, all these colors… This look shows that you’d choose comfort instead of sexiness. It brings mothers some peace of mind about their daughters. The second: you chose the wrong type to use,” he nodded at the mirror behind the bar at himself. “A big, dirty brute like me, with all those tattoos and shit? Really? It’s too obvious. The girl never comes to a guy like me first, unless she is severely disturbed. And your mother knows for sure that you’re not. She would never buy it.”

“So who should I pick?”

“You need a worm. Someone skinny, short, wearing a suit, probably. About thirty years old. With that slyish smile, you know?”

“Oh, I know. That slyish smile…” Mia confirmed. “Those smiley bastards,” her face was half way disgusted already. “It’s making me sick already.”

“Exactly. Try to imagine the look on your mom’s face when she sees you in that cheap dress with cleavage and your knees naked, sitting in the company of a guy like that. She would jet after you the moment she saw that.”

“Wow, that was heavy. Anything else?” Mia took it pretty seriously, practically taking notes in her head.

“Yeah, couple things. You’re taking too much initiative. Talk too much and too confident. The ‘worms’ are afraid of that, but it brings peace to mothers. Try to giggle more, put on that dumb grin to complete the look.”

“Sounds disgusting,” she said. “I ain’t no stupid doll!”

“Exactly. That’s why it’s not gonna work,” JB returned to the original statement. “But don’t worry, kid, it’s gonna be betta when you grow up.”

“Really? That better?”

“Well… Not that much betta. A need for teen rebellion will pass. But what’s even more important is you will be ready to drink then. That is an illusion of things being betta.”

On the last words, JB sipped from the flask and put it on the bar for show. It was a signal for the bartender to refill it.

JB noticed in the mirror that Mia’s mother was saying goodbye to her companion near the exit door. She walked to the bar where Mia and the big guy himself were.  Bridgers got ready for a new act.

“Hello,” the woman spoke to the gangster.

Mia just noticed that her mother stood behind her. She flinched and rushed for JB’s massive arm to hug it. When doing that she knocked down the flask from the bar. The whiskey started to run out on the bar, wetting JB’s shirt from there.

“Mom! Meet my new boyfriend, JB! We are madly in love! And he’s gonna take me far, far away from you! Forever!”

“Oh, really?” the woman wondered. “So far?”

JB tried to neutrally play along, but a growing cold stain on his back was distracting him.

“Yes, so far!” Mia said and shook JB’s hand for a confirmation.

The woman looked at him.

“So far…” he said with his brows jumping up.

“Forever?” the woman asked him directly, smiling.

“Yes, forever!” Mia rushed to answer. She shook him again.

“Forever much,” JB squeezed out.

“Okay, I guess I’m going to Los Angeles alone then,” the mother responded.

“Yes! You can take your new boyfriend instead of me!” Mia said.

She finally released JB’s arm so he could shift away from the wet bar. Mia walked towards the exit where her luggage was.

“I’m Ellison,” the woman reached to JB with her hand.

“JB,” he shook it.

“Please, excuse her behavior. Her father and I divorced recently. She is having a hard time.”

“No problem. A cool kid you have there.”

Ellison looked at Mia idling near the exit then turned back to JB.

“I feel uncomfortable with all that trouble,” she hinted at the guy’s wet t-shirt. “I’d like to buy you a cup of coffee or something, but we’re almost late for our flight.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. That’s just booze,” JB smiled. “I suppose you’re heading to LA? Flight ‘UA-Air 107’?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll see you there then. It’s my flight too.”

“Great. I guess we can have a coffee onboard,” Ellison said hurrying up towards her daughter.

JB nodded.

“See you soon, JB!” Mia waved to him on their way out.

The big guy smiled in return.

A moment after they were gone he snapped back and all those heavy thoughts that he had earlier fell back on him. He took the flask, which the bartender filled once again, to put it in his pocket. Then he started twisting around to take a good look at the wet stain on his back. Such a chaotic movement was noticed by one of the security officers.

“Do you need any assistance, sir?” a big man with a shiny badge asked.

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do,” JB said, still not looking at the man.

“As a member of the company I would like to tell that we are sorry for your trouble, sir.”

“It’s nothing, thanks,” continuing to twist in front of the mirror JB said, “It’s just…”

He wanted to add something but interrupted when he noticed who that fellow was. The man wore the badge of the head of security. It was a bit of a shock for the gangster since in the backpack next to him he had a knife, a gun, and ammo.

“Just what, sir?” the man said suspiciously.

“It’s just that I have a plane to catch in the next twenty minutes. And I stink like a drunken pig. There’s no chance I’m getting through that security post.”

“No trouble there, sir. Let us take care of that.”

The chief picked up JB’s backpack to hand it to the gangster.

“Follow me, sir,” he asked politely.

The group almost got through with the registration and the security check. There was no more time for waiting on Jerry. After everything had been done, they gathered up to go for the plane. No one even hoped to see Bridgers at that point. But suddenly, right out of the blue, there he was. Fred, Eugene’s friend, looked back at the long lines to gloat over people there. He noticed JB.

“Hey! Look! Isn’t that our guy?” he shouted.

The group turned around to see what Fred was pointing at. Indeed, it was JB. Marching straight, accompanied by the head of security and one of the guards. They came to the security post.

“We can’t wait for him for so long, we are going to miss the flight,” Tina said. El and she were friends.

Alex looked at Eugene. He almost saw sparks of anger coming from his eyes as he watched JB.

“No, we can’t wait. It’s Jerry’s fault. He should have been here in time. We have to go,” El drew the line. Then she turned around and went on.

Most of the group followed. They made a few steps when Vova drove their attention to something.

“Wait! Something is happening over there!” he spoke.

The picture changed. JB was out of the line. Skipping all the formalities the chief walked him through. It was a rare kind of luck for JB to get that spill on him earlier.

Being on the other side of the security post he went to the group of students. Didn’t stop near them, just passed by.

“Hey, dudes! What are you’re waiting for? We have a flight to catch,” then he lightly shook his precious watch to check the time. “Oh, there’s just five minutes left.”

Right after JB came to the final checkpoint, he smiled and pulled out a ticket from his backpack’s front pocket. Two young ladies in uniforms smiled back at him.

“Hello, Mr. Bridgers,” one of the girls handed the ticket back to him. “Have a nice trip, Sir.”

Being pleased with himself, JB accepted the ticket and winged to the girls. He walked into the boarding corridor.

The rest of the group followed Bridgers. It was a mystery to them how he managed to pass like that, but his comrades liked it. Alex looked at Eugene once more.

“What a clown,” an irritated Eugene commented.