Chapter 5
DRIFTER
Twelve hours behind the wheel wasn’t for the faint of heart. Twelve hours on a motorcycle was straight up insanity, especially at night when the roads are at their worst. Slick from dew and lined with exhausted drivers, it’s a damn disaster waiting to happen.
But by pure luck, I made it to Little Rock without any major catastrophes, unless you count my aching fucking back and the fact that my ass had gone numb two hundred miles back. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything a couple of ibuprofens and a strong cup of coffee wouldn’t fix.
With that in mind, I pulled into a little diner just off the highway and headed inside. The place looked a little rough. Paint was peeling off the walls, and the bell on the door sounded like it was at death’s door.
But I didn’t care what the place looked like. I just wanted some food in my empty belly, and I wasn’t the only one. Hell, the place was packed. So much so, I almost turned around, but I didn’t have it in me to search for somewhere else. So, I barreled my way through and claimed a spot in the back.
I grabbed one of the menus and tried to ignore the fact that I felt grimy as hell. I barely had a chance to look at the menu before I heard, “What can I get ya?”
I glanced up and found an older waitress, maybe in her late fifties, with graying dark hair and a smile that looked like it took a lot of effort. I didn’t want to keep her waiting any longer than I already had, so I answered, “Coffee, black, with three eggs, sunny side up, bacon, and toast.”
“White or wheat?”
“Whichever will get my coffee here faster.”
She nodded like she understood my pain, then jotted my order down on her notepad. “I’ll get this put in for ya.”
“Appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
She turned and started for the kitchen, and I returned the laminated menu to its spot at the end of the booth. I took out my phone and checked my messages. I wasn’t surprised to find there were none.
I’d already talked to Prez earlier in the week, and the weekends were busy, especially Saturdays. It was a time when he and the guys would be out on a run or at the clubhouse preparing for a club gathering.
Those were good times. I wouldn’t admit it to just anyone, but I often missed those days.
I missed a lot when it came to the club, but those days were behind me.
At least, they had been. I was about to step back into the fold, but only long enough to warn Preacher and the others about what I’d heard.
As promised, my waitress returned with my coffee. It was steaming and black, just the way I liked it. I took a long sip and grimaced. It wasn’t all that great. It was bitter and stout, but I couldn’t have cared less. I needed the caffeine, and I needed it bad.
I was midway through my second sip when I overheard two boys talking in the booth in front of me. One sounded a bit older than the other, but I could tell they were both relatively young when one of them said, “He busted out crying in front of everyone. You should’ve seen him. It was so cringe.”
“Cried over what?”
“Cause Coach hit him in the head with a dodgeball.” The kid chuckled. “It was so funny, bruh. Dude went flying back and landed right on his ass. The whole place busted out laughing.”
I sighed and took another drink. Kids could smell weakness a mile away, and they pounced on it the second they spotted it.
I remembered being that age. I remembered the feeling, too.
Nothing worse than being pushed until something cracked, and when it did, they used it against you, laughing and teasing. Fucking sucked.
I could’ve told the kid he was a real shithead for making fun of that kid, but someone beat me to it. “I don’t see what’s funny about that.”
“You had to see it.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Her tone grew tense as she added, “That poor kid was probably mortified, and you made it worse by laughing at him.”
“Ah, come on, Mom. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“I bet if the roles were reversed, you’d think it was huge deal. In fact, you would probably still be upset about it.”
“Well, I’m not a big, goofy dork like he is,” the kid bit back. “And if I got hit in the head by Coach, I’d just hit him back.”
“Yeah, right,” the older one scoffed. “You would be crying and whining just like dough-boy.”
“Okay, that’s enough out of both of you,” the woman snapped. “You know how I feel about name-calling.”
“It’s not like he heard me,” the kid muttered.
“That isn’t the point.” She let out a deep sigh. “You don’t know the kind of life that boy has lived, and I can tell you it hasn’t been easy. The poor kid has been through a lot, and having his friends laugh at him during a moment of weakness doesn’t make it any better.”
The waitress slid my plate in front of me and gave me a warm smile as she topped off my coffee. “Is there anything else I can get ya?”
I glanced down at my plate full of eggs, bacon, grits, and toast, and my mouth started to water. “This should do it.”
“Good deal. I’ll be back to check on ya in a bit.”
As soon as she walked off, I dug in, and damn, if they weren’t the best eggs I’d ever had.
I continued eating, and it wasn’t long before I heard the boys going at it again.
This time they were talking about a couple of teachers at their school.
I zoned in and out while I worked through my breakfast.
Nothing really stood out. Just your basic kid stuff. I tuned most of it out, focused on cleaning my plate, but then, the mother raised her voice, making it clear to everyone within earshot that she was upset.
“What do you mean you haven’t read it? The report is due on Tuesday!”
The boy groaned like she’d just asked him to cut off a limb. “It’s just a stupid essay, Mom. It’s not a big deal.”
“Stupid or not, it’s an assignment, and I expect you to do it.” Her tone was unwavering as she snapped, “You’re reading that book while you’re at your dad’s tonight.”
“But we’re going to the baseball game!” he whined.
“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”
“Mom!”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she clipped, not raising her voice but making sure he got the point. “You didn’t do the work, so now, you’re going to have to pay the consequences.”
I chased a bite of toast with my coffee, pretending like I wasn’t slightly invested.
But I couldn’t help the amused huff that escaped under my breath.
I smiled, but it faded the second something heavier settled in its place.
I’d missed out on moments like this. I never got the chance to scold my son for not doing his homework.
Never got to toss a ball back and forth or teach him how to ride a bike.
Never got to fuss at him or watch him roll his eyes at me.
If I had to guess, I’d say he’d be like his ol’ man. Smart but stubborn, surviving solely on charm, good looks, and a crooked grin. The thought hit me right in the gut, stealing a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding.
I swallowed it down with another drink of coffee and listened as the mother continued to lecture her son about the importance of doing the right thing, even when it’s hard.
The younger brother poked and teased, but they both ignored him. The mother was determined to make her point, so she tried, “You’re missing out on a wonderful story. It’s one of my favorites.”
“You say that about all the books she assigns.”
“Because they’re all great books.”
“Not this one,” he huffed. “It’s over three hundred pages, Mom. That’s stupid, and the cover is stupid, too. It doesn’t even have a picture. It’s just dumb words.”
“You can’t judge a book by its cover,” she fired back, patience thinning but overruled by determination. “You have to give it a chance.”
I finished off my coffee and pulled out my wallet. I grabbed a couple of twenties and tossed them on the table. I figured it was more than enough to cover my breakfast and the tip. It was time to get back on the road, so I slid out of the booth and started for the door.
But as I passed the booth in front of me, I glanced over and caught a glimpse of the boys.
One looked to be nine or ten, face full of freckles and a slight gap between his front teeth.
The other was in his teens, and he was tall and lanky in the way teenage boys get when they’ve just gone through a growth spurt.
Both were good-looking kids, but it wasn’t them that stopped me in my tracks.
That was their mother.
She was striking with long, dark hair that was pulled into a loose braid, and some of it had come loose, framing her face.
She had beautiful brown eyes that still held softness, despite the exhaustion lining them.
Her skin was warm toned with freckles dappling the bridge of her nose, and there was something about the way she held herself, like she was tired but hadn’t given up, that hit me in a place I didn’t expect.
Something in my chest tightened.
Damn. It had been a long time since a woman had an effect on me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
I tried to force myself to move, but I was stuck in place.
That’s when the younger boy looked up at me, and his brother immediately followed suit.
And inevitably, the mother turned to see what they were looking at.
Perfect. Now, they were all staring at me, and each of them had a puzzled expression. I had to say something, or they’d think I was some kind of lunatic. So, I cleared my throat and said, “Your mother’s right… about not judging a book by its cover.”
The boys blinked at me, unsure what to make of this crazy stranger who was giving them unsolicited life advice.
I gave them a small shrug before continuing, “Some of the best stories don’t look like much at first. Same goes for people.
” I motioned my hand at my chest. “If you don’t give ‘em a chance, you’ll miss out, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. ”
The mother held my gaze, and there was warmth and compassion in her eyes, which was a pleasant surprise. It was rare to find someone who could see past the dirt and grime, the beard and tattoos, but she did.
She saw me.
The real me. That’s when I knew she wasn’t someone who just said the words. She actually lived by them, and I knew better than anyone just how rare that really was. I didn’t wait for her to respond. I simply tipped my chin and walked out.
I didn’t even look back as I made my way to my bike. I swung my leg over the seat and turned the ignition, and my engine rumbled to life, grounding me like a faithful companion. But the second I pulled out of the parking lot, my mind drifted right back to them.
To her.
I didn’t know what it was about her, but she’d hooked into me like barbed wire.
The way she’d handled her boys, speaking to them softly but firmly, and the way she pushed them to do right.
She was trying to help them become responsible young men, and from where I was standing, I’d say she was well on her way.
I thought about what she’d said about doing the work at his dad’s, and it got me wondering if she was divorced or separated. I had no clue why I even fucking cared. I didn’t have time for this shit, and more than likely, I’d never see them again.
So, I pushed the throttle back, trying to shove the thoughts away, but my mind kept going back to her hands. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember if there was a ring on her finger. I don’t know why I couldn’t remember. I seemed to notice everything else.
“Damn. I need to get a fucking grip.”
I should’ve had my mind on getting to the Fury clubhouse and the fight that was headed their way. That was why I was here in Little Rock. Not because of some woman I’d never see again.
Getting to Fury. That’s all that mattered.
That’s what I kept telling myself, but for some reason, I wasn’t so sure I believed it.