He felt like he had a family for the first time in many years. It was comforting for both of the men. Gran and Tiffany were comfort, Gran and Tiffany were safety, Gran and Tiffany were home.
Seven and Joey D. spent Joey’s last night in Thomasville sitting at the kitchen table. The ladies were fast asleep upstairs. The two men sipped on a bottle of wine that Seven found hidden under the sink. He and the Colonel knew that Gran would occasionally partake in the comfort of liquid fermented grapes. The two of them laughed and reminisced about their Mexican adventure. A true bond had developed between them. For Joey D. it was common practice to be a part of such relationships, but it was the first time that Seven had felt such a connection since he watched his best friend die in the seat next to him.
“You know, Seven, I am sorry we didn’t get the answers you were looking for in Mexico,” Joey said, sipping his wine from a coffee cup.
“You knew the answers before we ever went down there. You knew what my father was, a mentally ill serial killer with a troubled childhood and a dual personality. You could have easily just told me that and left it alone, but you didn’t. I think you’re a pretty special guy, Bunny. A real friend. I have the answers I was looking for. I knew it when I sat in your office for the first time, and you told me what we were probably looking at. You knew it then, but you jumped into this ridiculous little project because Tiffany asked you to. I will never be able to thank you for everything,” Seven said.
“Listen, kid, before you go on singing my praises, let me remind you that without you and the boys, I’d be dead lying in an unmarked Mexican grave. You saved my life, Seven, I’ll never forget that. I owe you, my friend, not the other way around. If you ever need anything I am there for you,” Joey said.
“Thank you, Bunny.”