Chapter 29

the sound: Deep Purple – Space Truckin, Humble Pie – 30 Days in the Hole, Harry Nilsson - Coconut, Vickie Lawrence – The Night The Lights Went Out in Georgia, Helen Reddy – Delta Dawn, Dobie Gray – Drift Away, Grand Funk Railroad – We’re an American Band, Dr John – Right Place, Wrong Time

To say that Mike and my dad didn’t get along so well is kind of the king of the understatement. Mike was a big ole bad ass biker and my dad was a cop, their relationship was the definitive oil and water.

It just wasn’t pretty on a good day.

My father couldn’t see what I saw in Mike…but mostly he couldn’t really see me anymore either so it didn’t bother me much....truly my dad and I didn’t get along so well anymore, but that’s another story. I knew Mike was right to call him though, if for nothing else than to have someone tell my mom.

Mike told me that my dad was on his way over.

What he didn’t know is that my dad was duty chief that night, so he was working, and he brought along a probationary constable. It could have been to lord it over the kid cos that was the kind of guy my father was and it also could have been to have someone without an emotional investment driving but in the end it proved to be some kind of poor judgment.

By the time my father and the kid cop get to the hospital, the boys have not only picked up the bike and taken it to the house…but they’ve picked up a couple of pizza’s and a two-four of beer and are sitting in the emergency waiting room having a meal and waiting for news on me.

So the father and the kid cop walk in to 20 er so bikers “having a party” in the waiting room. My father stomps down the hallway with the kid cop trailing him. The kid cop is already nervous cos of the “degenerates in the waiting room” so as he is coming towards my room he’s already twitchy and fingering his service revolver's grip.

Mike is standing in my door way.

I slip back into sleep.

I wake up to the father and Mike arguing in the doorway. My father’s face is almost purple he’s so angry cos Mike won’t let him in my room. My father is not used to hearing the word no and he sure as hell wasn’t used to hearing it from someone he felt had no business telling him anything. I was, after all, his daughter, his property.

Dad is 6 ft 3, Mike is 6 ft, dad weighs 200lbs and is carrying a gun, Mike weighs 250 but has the physique of a professional weight lifter…the perfect “v” with great big shoulders and arms (that’s where the Muscle Beach nickname came from). My father is big and dark and brooding, Mike is big redhead with a ruddy complexion and is currently flaming, almost "glow in the dark" red angry.

I try to lift my head to tell Mike it’s ok and just as I do so Mike decides he’s had enough of my father and his attitude and he leans forward and tells my dad to “step the fuck off” and by way of punctuation, finger punches my dad in the chest using all 5 fingers to push him away. My father staggers back, trips over his own size 14’s and goes down on his ass, skidding a bit on the highly polished floor.

From the vantage point of the kid cop, all he sees is a room fulla bikers, and one of them pushing his boss to the ground, he freaks and pulls his gun which he trains on Mike, thank goodness he has the presence of mind to not pull the trigger yet.

The waiting room explodes into noise…voices raised, furniture crashing and the kid cop’s got sweat beading down his face and is waving his gun back and forth like a kid at a carnival mostly because he doesn’t know who to shoot first I think.

All this occurs just as my mother comes thru the sliding doors from the parking lot.