Chapter 36 Blaze
Riding up front was amazing. I could do this again, it was just a pity that the reason for my place was so horrible.
I glanced down at the kutte sitting on the tank in front of me.
Matchstick would have loved this. He loved a good ride.
He and I used to go out every week, when his health allowed it.
It was the only time that we felt fresh wind on our face, instead of the fumes out the back, where we normally were placed during the club rides. I reached down and patted the kutte.
“Good times, Matchstick, good times,” I murmured and looked up. I then turned everyone towards the clubhouse. That was his favorite place on earth, because it gave him access to his next favorite places, the girls.
We all parked our bikes, and I walked inside with Matchstick’s kutte.
There was a line of coat hooks that a past president had installed, where all the old kuttes went, with a photo of the owners in their prime above each hook.
Matchstick’s picture was already up there.
His grin beaming out from his trademark wispy beard and moustache.
I hung the kutte under it and looked at the picture.
There he was, his wrap-around sunglasses hiding his eyes, and his face flushed after a good ride.
I remembered the day I asked him if I could marry Daisy.
He had grinned like I’d offered him the fire captain’s helmet.
He’d told me yes of course, then turned serious.
He warned me to treat her right. I could go and have fun, but always wrap it up, no questions asked, and come home to her every night.
Also, never ever forget a gift to remind her that she’s my ol’lady, the only one allowed on the back of my bike, and my someone special.
“Never pass it up, but never forget about her. And always wrap it up,” I murmured the advice. I’d followed it. Only had one oops moment with the wrapping. But that would work out. It always did.
I stepped away from the wall and my memories, somehow ending up next to Molly. She still had tears streaming down her face. I would have thought she’d run out by now.
“Thank you, Blaze. He’s home now. This is where he wanted to be.”
I slung my arm around her shoulders. “Come on, Molly,” I said fondly, “let’s go drink to this man’s memory.”
Molly smiled and nodded, slipping out to trot to the bar. I followed her and grabbed a beer.
“To Matchstick,” I said, and Molly clinked her glass against my bottle. He’s probably already fucking the angels, I thought.