It was raining when he arrived. The locksmiths were huddled under the overhang in front of the locksmith shop, watching it come down in buckets. The unsanctioned morning locksmith meeting was in full effect. The usual suspects were present, talking shop, cracking jokes, and downing their morning coffee. There was a crispness to the air. The smell of ozone and geosmin was ripe. Rain splattered the concrete, washing away the ice cream drippings and grime from the parking lot. The mood was light and almosy giddy. A morning rain was the promise of a slow day.
Cars plunged through the puddles, struggling to get along. San Diego drivers aren’t known for their rain abilities. Drivers chirped at each other with heated voices and the occasional horn. Wet yoga girls, clutching their mats and water bottles, made a run for the studio. A hobo was screaming at the barbar shop guys that all the cigarette butts were wet. The locksmiths just leaned back and watched the show.
Unexpectedly, a dark figure rounded the corner at the alley behind O’Reilly’s, approaching from the south. A messenger bag was slung across his back and a black baseball cap was cocked low on his head. A grey paisley bandana was tied around his neck, bandit style. He looked out of place, as he approached the intersection. His clothes, too nice to be a vagrant. New Levi’s and Timberlands. He waited for traffic to clear at Haines Street, but didn’t wait for the light to change. As soon as the last cars passed through the intersection, he glided across Garnet at a slow, even gait. He didn’t seem to notice the rain. He was staring hard at the locksmiths and was walking right towards them. “Who’s this guy?”, quipped the rookie. All penetrating eyes shifted to look. It was hard to see his face in the rain and the ball cap and bandana didn’t help.
“No freaking way.”, whispered one of them. “Yes, way”, chuckled another.
“It’s Vince.”, growled his brother, and he stepped forward to embraced him. Brothers hug. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Mexico.”
The other locksmiths looked on in disbelief, surprised to see him. Honestly, they thought he was dead. There he was. The man that could pull a Chevy Silverado ignition in under two minutes with a flat head screwdriver and a rake pick. The same man that taught them how to remove double locked handcuffs with a bobby pin. The one that showed them how to break into cars the right way, without screwing up the door seals, was just standing there. In the rain.
“What did you bring us?”, asked Orion. Cheeky kid. Vince grinned and reached into his bag, pulling out a grip of Rockoleta lollipops and started passing them out. The locksmiths started laughing and clapping him on the back, flooding him with questions.
His brother smiled at him. “So, what’s the plan?” Vince gave him a crooked grin. “I’m thinking I’m back.”
“Good. Let’s get to work. About time, you lazy bastard. You can start by fixing the website. We dropped organically while you’ve been out gallivanting. The coffee’s hot.”
“I’m on it.”, Vince said as he smiled.
They piled into the locksmith shop, ready to hear of the expoits south of the border and see what was next on the horizon. San Diego got back one their own.
