“I know a place we can hang out.”
“A hotel?” she asks, likely knowing where my head went based on how I had to adjust myself on the motorcycle.
“An arcade,” I say and flip down the helmet’s face mask. “Hold on. It’s not far.”
Monroe does as I instruct, and we’re soon back on the highway for a short drive to King’s Fun Zone. The place isn’t busy considering the time and day of the week. We park my bike, liberate Monroe’s head from the helmet, and stroll toward the entrance.
“Did you play at the arcade growing up?” I ask, testing Monroe’s mood.
“There isn’t anything like this up north. When Needy and I lived in Florida, she took me to a place called a fun park for school kids’ birthday parties. I remember the game where you roll the ball and try to hit different holes. Otherwise, it didn’t make an impression.”
Once we get inside with our cup filled with tokens, I look around for something to play. A lot of the games are newer, and I have no fucking clue what they do. I find a pinball machine and slide in a token.
“My dad used to bring me here when I was a kid,” I say, and Monroe instantly smiles. “He said his parents never took him anywhere when he was growing up. I think he wanted to do better than them. But I also sensed he just wanted an excuse to do the shit he couldn’t as a kid.”
“Your parents didn’t come from money, I assume.”
“No,” I mutter, trying to control the damn pinball and talk at the same time. “The Executioners were founded by rough, poor fuckers with few skills. They took Elko by force, which was probably the easy part. Running the business side could have ended them. None of them came from a numbers or management background. My paternal grandparents worked odd jobs. My maternal grandparents were criminals. Well, maybe not my grandma. She was sick in the head and couldn’t hold a job. Her husband was a thief, though. I know that much. We come from a long line of losers, but the club allowed those men to build something better for their families.”
“And Lowell is one of the founders?” Monroe asks, still holding on to her dream of a cool daddy.
After losing the game, I slide in another token. “He was there from day one. No one’s closer to Bronco than him.”
“Not even Lana?”
“No, Bronco doesn’t tell her the ugly stuff. She met him when he was well past his full-fledged asshole phase. Lowell was around since Bronco was mean. He’s seen all the big man’s shit. Back before Lana and even Anders, Lowell was the only one Bronco trusted. His sisters hassle him. The other founders are the kind of men to lash out at weakness. So Bronco had to rely on Lowell.”
Backing away from the Lowell talk, Monroe asks, “What kind of games did your dad like to play?”
“Just the easy shit that he wanted to do as a kid. ‘Water in the clown’s mouth’ kind of stuff. Pinball machines were his favorite,” I say, gesturing toward the game. “Want to give it a try?”
“No, but I wouldn’t mind shooting hoops on that NBA game.”
Grinning, I take her hand and walk over to the empty game. She slides in a token and starts shooting. I’m impressed that she hits more shots than she misses.
“I played basketball in school,” she says after the game ends, and she’s fishing around for another token in the cup. “Did you want to play on the other one, and we’ll have a contest?”
“Competitive chicks are sexy,” I say, taking her up on her offer. “Did you play any other sports?”
“Softball, volleyball, soccer.”
“So, you’re a jock?”
“More like a tomboy. I just wanted to play sports and climb trees. Needy was the same way growing up. Eventually, she realized there was no future in being a tomboy. So, she played up her looks and learned to flirt. That’s how she got involved with the Executioners.”
“And what happened to her?”
Monroe tenses, missing her shot as the game ends. “It’s complicated.”
“We’re not in any hurry.”
Sliding another token in the game, Monroe takes the basketball and makes a shot. “Mom tried to make it on her own with me. She met a guy in Florida, and they shacked up, but he was still into another woman. After that ended, we lived in a shithole in Georgia. My aunt and uncle visited once. That’s when Clive decided we should move up to where they lived. Mom wasn’t sure about relying on his generosity.”
“Because he’s a bad guy?” I ask when she stops talking and focuses on shooting hoops.
“He’s sorta like you. I mean, with his job,” she says, glancing around to find a mostly empty play area. “He has that kind of power. Needy worried, but our life in Georgia was a dead end, so we went to live with them. They have a big piece of land with a few houses on it. The largest one belongs to Clive. We lived there. Some of his henchmen live in the smaller houses. It wasn’t bad, really. Mom worked a few shifts at a bar Clive owns. She only got paid tips, but all our bills were taken care of. Life there was comfortable until it wasn’t.”
I roll a lock of Monroe’s blonde hair around my index finger. She stops frowning at the flashing basketball board. I sense her veering into painful stuff. Based on the last twenty-four hours, she prefers to keep her emotions in check.
“Why did you run away from your uncle?” I ask, sensing she’s calm enough to push for details. “Was he hurting you?”
Monroe lowers her head and rests her cheek against my arm. “One night at dinner, he announced a guy in Bismarck wanted me. Marriage would be good for everyone. Steven has political power, which would help the McNamee family. And I would get to live in a big historical house in the nice part of Bismarck. After announcing that, Clive changed the subject as if my future wasn’t up for discussion.”
Monroe talks about her people as if I’m a townie who knows their stories. I do the same shit with Aja when we discuss my life in Elko.
“I’m confused about how your family works,” I say, hoping she’ll keep opening up.
Monroe glances around and then lowers her voice to explain, “Uncle Clive is the only remaining son from a powerful family in Minton. His people run drugs and guns up north and over the border. I always knew I couldn’t piss him off, but he wasn’t an angry guy. Much like the Executioners act so nice at the bar. When you’re in charge and can end anyone that pisses you off, you tend to be happy people. And Uncle Clive is usually nice. Like, when he said I had to marry Steven, he didn’t threaten me. But I knew it wasn’t optional. Just like I assume my mom marrying some rando in Kansas wasn’t her choice. We were the property of a powerful person.”
Monroe takes my hand in both of hers and studies my palm. “Clive and Immee had a daughter named Zella, who was my best friend. We weren’t much alike. She was boy-crazy and loved clothes. I was more interested in sports and chilling. We weren’t naturally good together, but Minton isn’t a big place. There weren’t many options. The smarter people leave for college without planning to return. The town only exists to serve the McNamee family and their illegal businesses. Everything is about them. Like, my uncle is lactose intolerant, meaning there are no ice cream shops in town.”