They call it a “mid-life crisis”. I’m not a big fan of that term, but I guess it describes the situation as well as anything. It’s the conflict a man encounters when he reaches that point in his life where he arrives at a crossroads; continuing to provide for his family in a manner to which they’ve become accustomed or chase a dream. For most men, the choice is easy since they settle into a comfortable life, too. For others, like me, they screw up everything around them and destroy relationships that should last forever.
Hell, some of the choices I made didn’t make sense to me, much less to others. But, you live with your decisions and you keep on keeping on. That’s just part of life. Would I do it differently if I had to do it again? Maybe, but the fact is you rarely get “do-overs” in life, so it’s a waste of time to worry about it.
I hit the road about 2 years ago when my wife couldn’t understand why I turned my back on a life in corporate America and a six-figure income. She couldn’t comprehend why I wanted to open a bar that catered to cowboys and bikers. It took my partners and me over a year, working our asses off, to get the bar running smoothly and generating a profit.
That was a year of constant arguments with my wife. She refused to accept that I was doing something I really enjoyed. Working ten times as hard for a third as much wasn’t a concept she could accept. She couldn’t appreciate my desire to be with brother bikers. She was never able to see me as a biker. It fell into the category of “If I have to explain, you wouldn’t understand.” We drifted further and further apart.
Once the bar was up and running, I decided to leave. I left my partners instructions to send my share of profits to my wife every month. I transferred all of the retirement funds and bank accounts to her and walked out. That was almost 2 years ago and I’ve been on the road ever since.
I’m in Sturgis every August and in Daytona in March. Other than that, I don’t have a schedule and can’t tell you where I’m going until I get there. My wife and youngest son live in Oklahoma now and my two older sons are in Texas. I try to get by and see them when I can. I’m like a damned migratory bird these days. I ride south for the winter and head north for the summer.
I usually camp at state parks to keep my expenses down. I stop and find work when I need money.
I’ve been riding hard for a couple of days now. I needed to put some distance between me and Springboro, Indiana. I hit the road again after things got hot with a couple of the locals there. I collected enough money in Springboro to keep me in fuel and food for a while.
I entered town for the first time a couple of months ago. There was still plenty of daylight left, but I needed to make some money and Springboro looked like a good place to check out options. Plus, I knew there was a state park outside of town, beside the Wabash River. I’d be able to get a shower and wash off the road grime. I found a cool spot near the river, pulled my bed roll and tent from the bike, and set up camp.
I decided to take a walk and see what my new “home” had to offer. I strolled beside the river for a mile or two, trying to remember the businesses I passed back in town and contemplating my prospects for employment. That was the first time I saw her. She was sunbathing topless on the rocks at the edge of the river.
It was difficult to take my eyes off her. She didn’t look very tall, but her legs were long and muscular. Her strawberry blonde hair flowed over the edge of the rock in long ringlets. Her head rested on her arms. Her breasts glistened in the late afternoon sun. The air was cool and it seemed strange to see such a wondrous sight this time of year, particularly in Indiana.
I quietly backtracked to give her some privacy, but found that the voyeur in me was vetoing what little chivalry I possessed. I stepped behind some bushes, but couldn’t make myself leave. I watched her for a few minutes.
She got up, pulled a long white dress over her head, gathered up her belongings, and started toward me. I don’t know if I was embarrassed for her or me, but either way, I turned around and headed back toward camp. Once I reached the park, I found a nearby picnic table, sat down on it facing the path, and waited for her to make her entrance.
A couple of minutes past and she sashayed into the opening. She was about 5 foot 5, and her long, curly, strawberry blonde hair fell down to her tiny waist. Probably in her early to mid-thirties, if her D-cup breasts didn’t grab your attention, her dazzling blue eyes would lure you into another world. She had a half smile on her face when she looked my direction and, at first, I thought she must have seen me taking flight.
We nodded politely to each other as she turned toward the parking lot. Her tight, curved ass was a magnificent as her breasts. She tossed her towel and book into an old Jeep Cherokee, jumped into the driver’s seat and backed out of the lot. As she made her turn toward the exit, she gave me the slightest of waves.
If lack of money wasn’t incentive enough, seeing her on the river was all I needed to make Springboro a viable option for an extended stop. The next morning I made my way into town for some breakfast and to check out employment opportunities. There was an old diner, called “Becky’s”, on the outskirts of town and it seemed like a good place to attempt a start at both objectives.
I finished breakfast and, in an effort to make small talk, asked the cashier if there was anyone in town who could use a hired hand. I’ve done a little bit of everything for the past couple of years. You don’t need much when you live the way I do, and it opens up all kinds of doors.
As luck would have it, she was Becky, and she needed a cook for the breakfast and lunch shifts. The previous cook got married and moved away. Becky was covering cooking duties during breakfast and lunch.
I assured her I could cook breakfast with the best of them and whip up a mean lunch, too. She handed me an apron and put me to work on the spot. I didn’t ask how much she was paying. I strapped on the apron and headed for the kitchen.
Becky was a good looking woman about my age, in her mid-forties. Her hips spread wider with age, but she still had a comforting, round ass. Her hair was an artificial red and radiated against her light complexion. Her huge tits fit snugly in her blouse. She didn’t wear makeup and although her face showed her age, she still had a youthful look.
She was married to a trucker named Jerry. He made it home every other week. She started running the diner ten years ago when her mother passed away. She possessed the right touch of sassiness and modesty to make her a favorite with every one of her customers, male and female.
She showed me around the kitchen and then gently chastised me for being behind on three orders. I busied myself catching up and laying things out kitchen items where I could find them. The morning rush flew by and the next thing I knew it was 10:00 and the place was empty except for a couple of old-timers who sat in a booth sipping coffee and discussing the local news.
We prepped for lunch and she warned me that the chicken-fried steak was the daily special and local favorite. She was expecting a big crowd. I would work the kitchen while Gina, the breakfast waitress, and a second waitress handled the dining room. Becky managed the cash register and help out on the floor and in the kitchen when she could. I busied myself battering steaks and getting ready for the rush. I didn’t even notice when she came in.
Just as Becky predicted, the diner began to fill around 11:15. I didn’t see the new waitress until I satisfied the first lunch order. As I poured gravy over the chicken-fried steak sitting in front of me, my mysterious sunbather appeared. I lost concentration and filled the plate with gravy. We recognized each other at the same time and she blushed slightly. I said, “Hi”, and she returned the greeting as she spun around to deliver her order. I sensed the magnetism in the air and shuddered.
The rest of the lunch rush was a blur. We stayed busy and I didn’t have time to speak to my bathing beauty, but every fragment of my roaming being tingled at the sight of her delicate neck or the way her soft locks framed her face. It was torture to be so close, yet so far, at the same time.
Things settled down about 2 o’clock and Becky made formal introductions. She introduced Gina Romero, a plump girl in her early twenties with a beautiful smile and an equally pleasing personality. Gina and I met informally during the breakfast rush. She delivered the grub I was hurriedly preparing.
Then Becky introduced Maggie Callahan. “Ah, an Irish lassie.” I thought to myself. Our eyes locked for the first time. Hers were soft and tender and her handshake sealed the deal. It was butter in my calloused paw, warm and fragrant.
I swallowed hard, nodded and said, “We met, kinda’, down at the state park yesterday. That’s where I’m stayin’ while I’m in town.”
“Oh, really, how long do you plan to stay in Springboro?” Maggie asked trying to make light conversation in front of our boss.
“Who knows? I ride out once I feel like I’ve worn out my welcome. Sometimes, that happens inna week, sometimes longer.” I said and my hungry gaze drifted down the cut of her blouse to the soft swell of her breasts. It had been awhile.
As with most women, the questions kept coming, “Is that your motorcycle out there?”
“Yeah” I replied. I didn’t want to continue the conversation. Every nerve called to me to snatch her into my arms and I knew I needed to get out of there.
“What kind is it?” She inquired.
“A Harley-Davidson Fat Boy with a few modifications.” I didn’t offer any specifics. The damn conversation needed to end.
“My husband, Jerry, rides.” Becky interjected. “Well, he does when he gets home. He has a Road King sittin’ in the garage waitin’ for him. Maybe you and him can go for a ride when he’s home.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I responded, shuffling my feet on the tile floor to keep my eyes away from Maggie’s curves.
“Where’re you from?” Maggie asked, but her eyes didn’t want an answer. It didn’t matter.
“Most recently, South Dakota, but I travel around a lot. I’ll be heading south soon to escape the cold.” I said. I wasn’t really from anywhere any more and didn’t want to discuss it or my past. I wanted Maggie and Becky to know, sorta, I wouldn’t be around long.
Gina and Maggie took off. They were scheduled to be back at 4:00 for the dinner shift. Becky told me to fix myself some lunch and said the night cook would be in at 4:00. I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up from breakfast and lunch, chopping vegetables, and helping Becky get ready for dinner. If it wasn’t for Maggie, I’d finish my shift and peel out.
The evening cook arrived at the diner about 3:45. He appeared to be a grumpy, old bastard, slightly older than me. Becky introduced him as “Dave” and he grumbled something about his kitchen better be in order and walked past me. It wasn’t likely that Dave and I were going to become drinking buddies.
Maggie and Gina came in together a few minutes later. We exchanged pleasantries and I asked where a guy goes for evening entertainment and a drink in Springboro. I needed to catch a buzz to calm the chemistry. I didn’t know whether to pump my hopes or make a quick escape. Becky gave me a stern look, but Gina suggested a local bar up the highway with good music on the juke box and a decent crowd.
“You can’t miss it,” she said. “It’s right on Highway 1, about 5 miles south of town. It’s called Pepper’s.”
I gave Gina my thanks and a big smile and nodded to Maggie and Becky. I felt like a school kid when my eyes met with Maggie’s warm blue eyes. I can’t describe what makes a woman’s gaze warm or soft, whether it’s her smile, the curve of her lips, the sparkle of her eyes. Whatever it is, Maggie’s look encompassed it completely.
Becky said she’d see me at 5:00 the next morning. I think she wanted to remind me that I worked for her now and a night of carousing wouldn’t get us off to a good start. I stopped at a convenience store on the way back to the park and picked up a Styrofoam cooler, some ice, and a six-pack of Bud Light. I loaded the beer and ice into the cooler and bungeed it to the bike. It never hurts to keep a supply of cold beer handy.
Pepper’s fit Gina’s description to a tee. I rolled up about 8:00 and the parking lot was lined with pickup trucks. The place had a reasonable crowd, but it wasn’t a problem to find a seat at the bar. I ordered a beer and spun around on my stool to get a better look. I’ve never been a fan of sitting with my back to the door.
I was pleasantly surprised to hear the juke box playing southern rock and roll and country music. Couples boogied around the dance floor and the place seemed to be another small town honky-tonk. I managed some small talk with the bartender, Jason. He was in his early twenties and attending school in Marion. He seemed like a bright kid trying to make some money and get on with his life.
I killed an hour sipping beer and watching the locals. I was getting ready to leave when I heard a ruckus at the door. A big guy entered like he owned the place. I asked Jason what the deal was and it turns out, the big guy did own the place. His name was Donnie James, but everyone called him, “Pepper”.
It was obvious that the patrons of Pepper’s either loved or hated Pepper, with the majority in the latter category. He came in larger than life and immediately became the center of attention for his admirers. I was sure, right from the moment he walked in, I didn’t like him. He ambled over to the bar and in a loud voice asked Jason, “Who’s fuckin’ bike is that out there?”
I turned toward him and said, “That’s my fuckin’ bike. Why, you got a problem with it?”
“Naw, no problem partner. I just wanted to tell you it’s a fine lookin’ bike. It kinda gives the place a new element, if you know what I mean,” he said, as he grinned at me.
Actually, I didn’t have a clue what he meant. But, I knew one thing; I don’t take any shit about my bike. My worldly possessions consist of a couple of pairs of jeans, some leathers, a few tee-shirts, a pair of boots, my tent and bed roll, a set of well worn Willie and Max throw-over saddle bags, and a Glock 26 9mm semi-automatic. That bike is my only possession with any real value.
I bought the Fat Boy back in my previous life. When I look back, that’s when the changes in my life started. I quickly made it my own with a few modifications. I painted the skins a flat black and added pinstriping to give it color. I replaced the engine with a blacked out 124-inch S&S, put in a Baker 6-speed transmission, installed a set of Supertrapp Road Legends X-Pipes, and added Ness Reaper Billet Wheels. I attached Lindby highway bars to provide foot props for those long runs and slapped on a few other after-market chrome components. I turned her into my version of “Black Beauty”.
“Thanks.” I said.
“How much you want for it?” He asked.
“It ain’t for sale.” I replied.
“Aw, come on now, son. Everythin’s for sale. It’s just a matter of price, that’s all.” He continued.
I stood up for emphasis, and though he stood 3 or 4 inches taller, I made a point to look him in the eye. I stated with certain finality, “It’s not for sale” and turned for the door. As I walked out I heard him shout, “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
I was back at the park before 10:00. I didn’t want to disturb the other campsites, so I idled the bike through the camping area. I crawled in the tent, peeled off my clothes and slid into my bedroll. I found myself thinking about Maggie as I drifted off to sleep.
I was up at 4:00 the next morning taking care of the three things they taught me in the military; shit, shower and shave or, as my Puerto Rican drill instructor put it, “Chit, chower and chave.” I arrived at Becky’s shortly before 5:00.
Becky was there already preparing for breakfast. To Dave’s credit, the kitchen was in excellent shape. The food and utensils needed for breakfast were placed where they were easy to reach and ready to go. The first customers began to arrive a few minutes later.
I made it through breakfast with sweat-soaked ease and found myself looking forward to Maggie’s arrival. She came in before the lunch rush and other than a few exchanged glances, neither of us had much time to talk. After the shift though, everyone sat around and shot the breeze.
I told them about my brief encounter with Pepper. Everyone seemed to be of the opinion that he took it easy on me. Normally, they said, he would have waved money in my face and created a scene. He usually gets his way or someone gets roughed up by him and his buddies, they told me.
The next few days were repeats of each other. In at 5:00, work until 4:00, catch a quick conversation with Maggie when I could, have a beer or two at Pepper’s, and crash back at the park. Maggie and I were getting friendly, but opportunities to get closer didn’t arrive, like the Fed-X package I was hoping for.
It was Saturday. As I was leaving the diner I shouted to Becky, “Same time tomorrow, Becky?”
“Heck no,” she replied. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. We’re not open on Sundays. Can’t you read the sign? Most of my regulars are church-goers and after church, they go home and have Sunday dinner with their families. That’s one tradition I don’t want to see die. So, I don’t tempt them by opening my doors on Sunday. Besides, we can all use a day off every now and then.”
That news gave me an idea. I called out to Maggie, “Hey Maggie, you wanna come to the park tomorrow and go for a walk along the river?”
I heard Dave release a loud sigh from the kitchen and mutter, “Goddamn horn dog!” I didn’t say anything to him because, basically, he was right.
I must have caught Maggie off guard. She almost dropped the piece of pie she was holding. Once she regained control, she answered, “Well, we usually go to mass and have dinner as a family too. Just like Becky said. You’re welcome to join us, though.”
“God and I have an agreement. I sit under the stars and get spiritual guidance. In exchange, I promise not to drag riff-raff like me into His churches. It seems to be working well for both of us.” I said.
“Well, you could come have dinner with us. It’ll be me, my mom and my little boy. I’m sure they’d enjoy meetin’ a real biker.” She offered.
“I’ll take you up on that part of the offer. See you around 1:00?” I asked.
“See you at 1:00.” She confirmed.
“Hey Becky, you got a minute?” I asked, as I reached out and tugged her elbow.
“Sure, what’s up?” She inquired.
I decided it was time for me to remind her I wasn’t going to be around long.
“Look, it might be gettin’ time for me to move on.” I informed her.
“Don’t leave yet.” She whined. “I’ve finally been able to relax around here. It sucks when it’s Gina and me on the breakfast shift and I do all of the cooking.”
“Why don’t you have Dave come in and help for a couple of hours during breakfast and lunch?” I asked her.
“Dave’s a drunk. He can’t possibly be here at 5:00 in the mornin’. He’s just gettin’ home at that time. Workin’ from 4:00 to 8:00 durin’ dinner and cleanin’ up until 10:00 gives him all the work he can stand. He leaves here and heads straight for Pepper’s. I’m surprised you haven’t seen him there.” She added with a hint of frustration.
“I’m in bed by 10:00. Hell, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not really into partyin’ at Pepper’s. I just wanna make some money and be on my way. I don’t need any trouble with that asshole, Pepper. I usually make a point of leaving before he shows up. How about havin’ Maggie come in for the breakfast shift? She seems competent.” I added.
“Maggie’s great, but she has to be home in the mornin’ for her kid. He’s 9 and she gets him ready and sees him off to school. She has to be there in the afternoon when he gets home, too. He has special needs. That’s why she works lunch, then leaves and comes back for the dinner shift. Her mom gets home from the hospital around 3:30. Grandma takes over babysittin’ duties then.” Becky whispered, as if she were worried we’d be overheard.
“Isn’t there anybody else in this town who can help you out?” I asked, with frustration of my own creeping in.
“Look,” Becky said. “I promise I’ll start lookin’ for someone else Monday, if you’ll promise to stay until I find someone. Deal?”
This is exactly why I hate getting myself into situations like this. I should have known better than to start working for a good-looking, hard working, woman with the best eatery in town. The simple fact that she was a woman meant I was going to have a hard time leaving her in the lurch, but I didn’t sign on for a long-term commitment and I thought I’d made that clear.
“Yeah, deal.” I heard myself say, against my better judgment.
I lounged around the campground the next morning doing nothing of any redeeming social value. Finally, around 12:45, I left for Maggie’s. As I came roaring up the street I saw a kid and an older woman standing on the front porch. When I stopped in front of the house the kid was jumping up and down and the lady had to hold him back. I thought he was going to bound off the porch and run into the street. He was as excited as a kid who just met Santa Claus, and he had a smile that would brighten the heart of God Himself.
I could hear him shouting as I shut down the engine. I couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but I could tell he was about to burst with delight.
The lady apologized, “I’m sorry about this. He’s so excited about seeing a motorcycle.”
“Bring him over and let him take a closer look.” I suggested.
They came off the porch. He ran to the bike and stared with awe. I was worried he might touch the hot pipes, so I tried to keep close, just in case. He didn’t try to touch it. He appeared to be mesmerized by it.
It was easy to see the little boy had Down Syndrome. And, it was equally easy to see he was loved immensely by his grandmother and she was very proud of him.
Maggie opened the front door and called, “Dinner’s ready, everybody.”
With that he turned toward his mother and shouted, “Look Mommy, a motorbike, a motorbike!”“Yes Sammy, I see. Now come on inside and let’s have dinner.” Maggie replied. “By the way,” she added. “That’s my mom, Liz, and Sammy, my son.”
“Hi, Liz.” I said as I turned toward her. “My friends call me…” Right at that time Sammy jumped up and ran back toward the house. I took Liz’s arm and escorted her inside.
We had a great meal, including pumpkin pie for dessert. The type of dinner you would expect on a Sunday afternoon. Liz attempted to keep the conversation going by asking me about my past, family, and other topics I really didn’t want to discuss.
She turned the subject to Sammy and how well he was doing in school.After lunch, I offered to help Maggie with the dishes. She kept insisting I go in the living room and watch football, but I figured this was a good opportunity to get some alone time with her. I wasn’t sure how I was going to use that time, but I knew I wanted it.
I rinsed the dishes and Maggie put them into the dishwasher. I noticed several drawings around the room and asked Maggie, “Are you the artist or is Liz?”
“Those are mine.” She said, shyly. “They’re not that good. It’s somethin’ I really enjoy, though. I dream of having my own gallery one day. That way, I could draw and paint all the time. I know it’s a silly dream.”
“Hey, there’s no such thing as a silly dream. I think they’re damn good. Have you ever tried to sell them?” I asked.
“Oh no, I couldn’t do that. I’d be too embarrassed. What if someone didn’t like them? I don’t think I’d fare well with critics. I’ll keep doing it for fun and dream about it.” She said.
I let it die. I’m the last person to hand out advice about chasing dreams. I changed the subject and suggested Sammy might enjoy a ride on the bike. “I’ll take it easy and go up the block and right back. Whatta you say?”
I could tell Maggie was apprehensive. “Do you really think he can do it? What if he falls off? I don’t know.” She said as she considered the idea.
“Did you see his face while he was out looking at it? He was awestruck! C’mon, let’s at least let him sit on it.” I begged.
“Okay” She agreed.
We walked into the living room. Sammy was playing with his toys and Liz was reading a magazine. “Hey Sammy, you wanna sit on my bike?” I asked.
Sammy squealed with joy and bolted for the door. “Hold on, Tiger.” I said, reaching out and snatching him before he could escape. Everyone walked outside and I helped Sammy settle into the saddle. He was beaming and making an engine noise. It was hard to imagine an actual ride making him happier.
Maggie ran to the house to get her camera. A yellow, 4WD, F250 pickup truck with tinted windows came around the corner. The truck slowed as they passed the house and I didn’t think much of it. I assumed they were amused at the sight of Sammy straddling the “Black Beauty”. However, I noticed a look of concern cross Liz’s face.
Maggie came back out of the house before I could ask Liz about the truck. Maggie yelled to Sammy, “Sammy! Look over here. I want to get a picture of Sammy, my biker boy.” Sammy turned toward his mother with that angelic smile and posed for the perfect picture. It was a warm ending to an enjoyable day.
I thanked Maggie and Liz for a terrific meal and fantastic afternoon. I told Sammy goodbye and promised to bring the “Black Beauty” back so he could “ride” again. I wanted another shot at convincing Maggie to let him go for a ride.
I decided to swing by Pepper’s and have beer on my way out of town. I figured the Colts would still be playing on TV and I’d kill some time before heading back to the sack. I got about a mile out of town when I saw the yellow pickup in the rearview mirror coming up fast.
He got closer and I expected him to swing around me and pass. I realized he wasn’t going around, but over me instead. I twisted the throttle and brought the beast to life. The bike jumped forward and immediately began to put some separation between the truck and me. However, he stomped on the gas and the gap started closing again.
Running 100 mph plus, with less than 5 feet between my rear fender and his front bumper, I could see Pepper’s about ¼ of a mile ahead. I heard the squeal of brakes behind me. The truck slid down the road, tires smoking. I blew past Pepper’s running 110. The truck came to a stop on the highway in front of Pepper’s and calmly swung into the parking lot.
I slowed the bike down gradually and turned around. There was a gathering out in front of Pepper’s by the time I rolled into the lot. Pepper greeted me with, “Hoooooweeeee boy, that was fun!” I shut the bike down and dismounted.
“Listen you stupid son of a bitch, I don’t appreciate a bullshit stunt like that. You understand?” I snapped.
“Hell boy, I figured you wanted to race some. What’s the matter? You ain’t got the balls for racin’?” Pepper asked, baiting me.
“Fuck you!”, was all I said as I turned around to enter the bar.
“What’d you say, boy?” Pepper hissed.
I ignored him and kept walking toward the door.
Pepper was seething. “Hey, Biker Trash, I’m talkin’ to you!” He bellowed.
I stopped. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to stop until I did something. I try to avoid fights. They usually involve the cops and I don’t care for spending my day answering a bunch of dumb-assed questions. Although I doubted it would work, I decided to try reasoning with him.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I only wanna have a beer or two and be on my way. Is that too much to ask?” I said.
Pepper stepped up and got directly in my face. “You stay away from Maggie. We don’t want your kind around here. You understand? Maybe it’s time for you to leave.”
I grew up in Alabama. One thing I learned there was: ain’t no such thing as a fair fight. If a fight is what it takes, then I fight to win. So, without warning and before he could even think about hitting me, I drove my fist directly into his unknowing gut. As he bent over to grasp his belly and find his breath, I met him squarely with my knee to his nose. He dropped spitting blood in a dusty puddle on the ground.
His goons weren’t far away. One of them grabbed me from behind and the other caught me in the side of the head with a set of brass knuckles. My scalp split and blood poured down the side of my face. I caught the guy behind me right in the shin with the heel of my boot. He squealed and dropped me like a sack of potatoes.
Jason was standing at the front door with a 12 gauge in his hands. He ordered the big guy with the “knucks” to help Pepper into the bar and another bystander to assist the guy with the bloody leg. Then he turned to me and suggested I call it a day and head home. As I passed Jason he leaned over and said, “You may have made yourself a serious enemy. There’s history between Pepper and Maggie. You watch your back, ya hear?”
I rode to the Regional Medical Center and walked into the emergency room to grab some stitches. The doctor and nurses asked a lot of questions, but quickly realized I wasn’t giving up any information. I told them I was in a small fight and, “they should see the other guy.”
I gave them the address for the diner knowing I’d see a bill arrive in the next few days. But, since they’re the only Medical Center within 75 miles, they treated me. They wanted me to stay over night, but I squelched that conversation. I walked out, eased onto the bike, and made my way to camp.
The next morning my head felt like it was in a vise. I walked to the showers in the dark and flipped on the light. Wow, was that an ugly mug or what? The nurses attempted to clean me up while treating my cut, but dried blood was caked across my jaw line and matted in my hair. Cleaning this up was going to be a lot of fun.
I showered the next morning, fired up the bike and slowly rode to the diner. As usual, Becky was inside preparing for breakfast when I walked in the door.
“Holy shit! What happened to you?” She cried.
“I had a run in yesterday, but I’m fine. You should see the other guy.” I joked. I needed to come up with a new line, but things were still fuzzy and that was the best I could do at the moment.
Becky reached out and moved a chair toward me. “Sit down right here. I’ll get you some coffee.”
“Becky, I have a job to do and, by God, I’m gonna do it. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll take that cup of coffee into the kitchen and start cookin’ some breakfast.” I stated as strongly as I could.
I repeated the same answer, “I’m fine”, every time another employee showed up or a customer happened to see me in the kitchen. Everyone wanted to know what happened, but I wasn’t talking. Maggie seemed concerned, but gave me some space and didn’t press for details.
Dave was the only one who walked in at 3:30 and never blinked. He looked at me and said, “My kitchen better be in good shape”, and brushed past me. I was beginning to like this guy.
When the shift ended I overheard Maggie tell Becky, “Becky, you should tell him. He’d want to know. It might have something to do with yesterday.”
I asked, “What’s up you two? What’s all the whisperin’ about?”
Becky said, “Cecil Morton came in earlier. He told me to get rid of the ‘biker trash’. Said, I would do it if I knew what was good for me. Then he told Maggie to stay away from you.”
“Oh, he’s one of Pepper’s runnin’ buddies.” Piped in Gina. “He’s a big guy, about 6 foot 4, big muscles, dark hair, with a mustache and goatee.”
I immediately recognized him as “Knucks”. The guy that split my head the previous day.
“Look Becky, maybe he’s right. Like I told you, it’s probably time I move on. Sounds like I might be doin’ all of you a favor if I did.” I offered.
“Bullshit!” Becky fired back. “I’m not going to worry about anything Cecil Morton or Donnie James has to say. I need you to stick around until I find a new cook. We had a deal, remember?”
“Yeah. I remember.” I replied with regret.
The rest of the week passed without incident. I made a point of staying away from Pepper’s. We kept feeding the hungry masses at the diner. I went by Maggie’s every afternoon and let Sammy take a ride on the bike. He’d sit in the saddle and make engine noises until Liz finally insisted he come in for a nap. That was quickly becoming my favorite part of the day.
I convinced Maggie to join me at the park the following Sunday. I watched her roll into the camp in her old Jeep. I met her in the parking lot. She had a picnic basket and blanket with her.
“Here, you carry this and I’ll get the blanket.” She ordered.
We ambled along the river chatting. Eventually Maggie stopped and said, “This is one of my favorite places on the river.”
I looked around and realized it was the same spot I first saw Maggie sunbathing topless. “Yeah, it’s mine too.” I added. She looked at me funny, but didn’t comment.
We spread the blanket in the grass and plopped down. Maggie pulled chicken salad sandwiches and a bottle of wine from the basket. I removed the cork from the wine bottle and we dug into lunch.
As we lay next to each other on the blanket, looking up at the clouds, I asked Maggie, “Where’s Sammy’s father?”
She was startled and it took her a moment to regain her composure. “He doesn’t want to have anything to do with Sammy.” She said. “He says, ‘the kid’s not right.’”
“Wow, he doesn’t know what he’s missin’ does he?” I asked.
“No, Sammy’s something special. He’s my little angel. When I found out I was pregnant, I thought it was a curse. Then, I found out Sammy had Down Syndrome, and I thought I was being punished more. As it turned out, he’s my reason for living. I couldn’t imagine life without him.” Maggie said.
After a few minutes of silence she added, “Donnie James is his father. You know, Pepper.”
“What!?” I exclaimed.
“We dated on and off in high school. After high school, I started focusing on my art and eventually broke up with him. He would come around from time to time and ask me to go out with him. I did a few times. He was convenient. He inherited all that money when his parents died. We had some fun, but I never really felt much for him.” She continued.
“One night he came to my house. He knew my mom was working the night shift at the hospital. He snuck in the back door and into my bedroom. He was drunk. I tried to make him leave, but he only had one thing on his mind. He raped me.” She was almost in tears at this point.
She took a deep breath and kept going, “My mom and I went to the police. They investigated, but said it was my word against his. He claimed it was consensual. The DA said we’d never win a conviction. He said going to trial wouldn’t be worth the pain I would go through. A month later I found out I was pregnant.”
“Mama and I discussed an abortion, but for some reason, I knew I wanted to have this baby. I did and it saved my life. Sammy brought a whole new joy into my life that I never realized existed.” She said.
“Does the son of a bitch at least pay you child support?” I queried.
“No, he won’t have anything to do with Sammy. I know I could get a paternity test and force him to help, but Sammy and I are doing alright. I don’t want anything from Donnie James except to be left alone.” She said, as though that were a wish that would never be granted.
I sensed her desire to change the subject. I asked her again about taking Sammy for a real ride on the bike. She was still reluctant, but gave in after 15 minutes of persistent hammering on my part.
I told her, “When I go by tomorrow for his ride, I’ll surprise him and take him up and down the street. We’ll do a couple of test rides before I get him too far from home.”
I couldn’t wait to get out of the diner Monday afternoon. I knew Sammy was going to turn back flips when he found out we were actually going to roll the bike down the street. Liz and Sammy were on the porch when I arrived. Sammy came running to my side. I was barely off the saddle before he was hiking his leg over the bike. I let him sit on the bike while I talked to Liz.
“Did Maggie tell you we were going to try a real ride today?” I asked.
“Yeah, she did. Are you sure he’s ready for this?” Liz asked with more than a hint of concern in her voice.
“You see how well he’s done avoiding the exhaust pipes, don’t you? I made sure he understood they were hot and he’s stayed away from them. I think if I tell him to hang on tight he’ll put a bear hug on me like I’ve never seen.” I looked at Liz and asked, “You ready?”
“I guess.” She answered.
“Hey Sammy, do you want to take a ride on the bike up the street and back?” I asked.
Sammy squealed with delight and beamed that smile in my direction. I put my helmet on his head and pulled the chin strap tight. I put the passenger pegs down, slid Sammy back on the seat, and showed him where to put his feet. I explained that it was real important for him to keep his feet on those pegs so they didn’t touch the exhaust. He seemed to comprehend every instruction I gave him. I slipped onto the saddle in front of him.
“Okay buddy, here’s the deal. I want you to wrap your arms around me and give me a big hug. Anytime we’re riding, you have to promise to keep giving me the biggest hug you can.” I instructed. “You understand?”
Sammy screamed, “Yes!” and clamped his arms around me. It took some effort to breathe. We pulled away from the curb slowly and I could hear Sammy shouting, “Look at me, Grandma! Look at me!”
I traveled to the end of the street and turned around. As we past Liz, Sammy continued to shriek with delight. We made a couple of passes. The whole time Sammy kept his bear hug securely around my chest.
We continued our rides daily extending them to around the block and then to the diner and back. Sammy was having a blast. Maggie, Becky and Gina would come out of the diner and wave to us as we passed. Sammy never released his grip even though I’m sure he wanted to wave back. He would yell, at the top of his lungs, “Look at me! Look at me!”
Saturday was crazy at the diner. The county fair was in full swing and the diner was crowded all day. I left at my usual time, 4 o’clock. As I headed out, I pulled Maggie aside and asked, “Hey, you wanna go to the fair after your shift tonight?”
“Oh, I don’t know. We close at 8:00 and I have to clean up. It’s usually after nine before I get out of the diner and home. That’s kind of late to be going out. Plus, Mama’s been with Sammy all day and I hate to impose on her. Why don’t you come by the house and we’ll watch some TV?”
“Ok, sounds nice. I’ll see you there about 9:00.” I said.
I arrived at Maggie’s a few minutes after 9:00. Her Jeep wasn’t in the driveway, so I sat on the bike and waited for her to arrive. She drove up a couple of minutes later. I could tell by the way she exited the Jeep that she was worn out. I hurried over and helped her with her things. All she mustered was a simple, “Hi.”, as I followed her into the house.
We walked in and I set her stuff on the table situated inside the door. Liz and Sammy were already in bed. Liz had an early shift at the hospital. Sammy usually waited up for his mom to come home. But, Liz reported to Maggie earlier that he had a big day at the fair and crashed about 7:00.
“Look, we can call this off if you want. You look like your really tired. I’ll come by tomorrow and see Sammy. Maybe you’ll be rejuvenated by then.” I recommended.
“No, don’t go. I just need a couple of minutes to relax and I’ll be fine. Grab a beer from the ‘fridge and have a seat on the couch. I’ll be right back.” She ordered.
I did as instructed, popped open the beer, and plunked down on the couch. From where I sat I could see down the hallway and into Maggie’s room. The door was open and her dresser was positioned in the corner. Her entire room was visible in the reflection in her mirror.
Maggie stepped out of her closet with a long, terry cloth robe in her hand. I watched in silence as she began unbuttoning her waitress uniform. I could feel my body temperature rise as she undid each button. I knew it was wrong to watch her, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the mirror.
She wiggled her shoulders slightly and the uniform dropped to her ankles. She stood there in her bra and panties. She rubbed her neck and stretched. I could tell her lingerie was one of her few indulgences. She wore a white satin bra with lace trim and a tiny pair of white, sheer panties with rose motif lace. Ordered, I guessed, from the Victoria’s Secret catalog I saw in the kitchen during my first visit.
She reached behind her back and unsnapped the bra. Another wiggle of her shoulders and the straps fell to her elbows and the D-cups dropped exposing her round breasts. I could make out the perfectly circular patches of darkened skin surrounding her nipples. Her stomach pooched out slightly. Obviously, the result of carrying Sammy for nine months. Her body was well-toned and proportioned, and a sight to behold.
She reached for the robe and slid it around her shoulders. She was tying the belt as she walked through the door and into the hallway. I tried to appear casual, but I had a feeling she knew I was watching. She turned into the kitchen and called out to me, “You need another beer while I’m in here?”
“Sure.” I replied, even though I was so entranced watching her change clothes, I hadn’t taken more than a sip or two of my first beer.
She came into the room carrying two beers. The robe exposed enough of her long, muscular legs to get your attention. She sat down beside me with a sigh, picked up the remote, and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels until she came to the Arizona State, UCLA game on ESPN.
“How about some college football?” She asked.
“Why don’t we turn the TV off and put some music on?” I suggested.
“That sounds good to me. What kind of music? I have an old Faith Hill CD I like. Does that sound alright?” She offered.
“Sure. Faith Hill sounds good.” I agreed.
She clicked the remote again and the TV went dark. She walked over to the CD player, inserted the CD, and adjusted the volume to the perfect level. Loud enough to hear it, but not enough to wash out all the other sounds of the moment.
“I’m beat.” She said, as she sat back down on the couch. “We must have had twice as many customers today compared to a normal Saturday. I don’t think I sat down until we locked the doors.”
I stood up and offered a suggestion. “Here. Set your beer down.” She did. “Now, lie down on the couch and let me give you a massage.”“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine. Sittin’ here listenin’ to the music is relaxin’ enough.” She argued.
“No arguments!” I ordered. “Roll over on your stomach and I’ll rub your legs. You’ll see in a minute you’ve got a lot of relaxing to do. Now, roll over.” I waited for her to do as instructed.
She stretched her legs out on the couch and rolled over. I gently moved her robe up to expose her legs, but still cover her rear end. I knelt beside the couch and began rubbing her feet. After giving both feet a thorough rubdown, I moved up to the calves of her legs. I could tell she was becoming more and more relaxed as I kneaded the muscles in her tired legs. I worked my way across the back of her thighs, stopping at the edge of the robe. After several minutes of working every inch of the back of her legs, I suggested she roll over and let me do the same to the front of her thighs.
She did as instructed and rolled onto her back. As she did, the robe opened at the front and exposed her upper thighs and white, laced panties. She quickly covered herself and apologized. “Sorry about that. I should have been more careful when I turned over. You have me so relaxed, I wasn’t sure I could roll over by myself.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me.” I insisted. “It was my pleasure. Both the rubdown and the peek show.” I was hoping she didn’t know about the earlier peep show I treated myself to.
She blushed and adjusted the robe to allow me access her legs, but without exposing her panties again. I knelt beside the couch and started massaging the front of her thighs. I continued for several minutes. Once I thoroughly covered all of the muscles in the front of her thighs, I slipped my hands between her knees and spread her legs slightly to give me access to her inner thighs.
She quivered as her legs spread. Her right leg slipped off the couch and dangled on the side. She didn’t make an attempt to bring it back up on the couch. The robe shifted when her legs opened. I had a clear view of her panties again, but this time she did nothing to recover her modesty. I began gently massaging her thighs. She let out a small moan as I reached the edge of her panties and rubbed softly with my thumbs.
Her panties captured a delicate spot of moisture as I continued to gently caress around her moist pussy. I could smell her femininity in the air. She sat up and dropped her other leg over the side of the couch, capturing me between her legs. Her eyes were closed as she slid her ass to the edge of the couch, pushing me and the coffee table backward.
She pulled it to either side presenting me with a breathtaking view of her magnificent titties. I tenderly grasped both sides of her panties as she lifted her ass into the air, allowing me to slip them down her legs. As her panties slid past her knees, I looked directly into an exquisite mound of trimmed strawberry, blond hair that matched the color on her head.
She popped one foot out of her panties and spread her legs again. I placed my tongue on the inside of her leg, behind her knee, and began to slowly move up her thigh. As I reached her pussy, I pulled back and gently exhaled a breath of warm air across her wetness. She trembled and I began a similar run up her other leg.
As I approached the space between her thighs again, she grabbed the back of my head and pulled my face into her succulence. I lightly licked inside the lips of her pussy and ran my tongue across her clit. She held my face tight against her. After several minutes, I could sense she was reaching her limit. She writhed against my tongue and released the quietest of whimpers as she trembled in climax.
She leaned forward and kissed me, then lifted my arms encouraging me to stand up. I did as instructed. She reached for my waist, unfastened my belt, opened the clasp, and unzipped my jeans. She carefully lowered my jeans and briefs; exposing my rock hard cock.
She tenderly took me in her mouth, rolling her tongue around the edges of my member. She looked up at me as I stood over her and as she pulled away the semen dangled between her lips and my organ. She took me back into her mouth, deeper and deeper.
I was at the brink cumming in her mouth when she withdrew my cock and stood beside me. She dropped the robe to the floor and lay back on the couch, with her legs spread wide. She motioned for me to join her. I knelt between her legs and began kissing her soft belly. I worked my way up her torso to her wonderful tits. She peeled my shirt over my head.
I moved up and kissed her again. She reached between my legs and massaged my throbbing penis. She pulled me toward her and introduced it to the dripping slit between her legs. I slid in with ease. We writhed and twisted our bodies together. Time seemed to stand still as we immersed ourselves in each other.
I knew I wouldn’t last long after the earlier “tongue-lashing” she gave me. I was ready to explode at any second. She, too, was reaching the culmination of her sensual experience again. We reached the pinnacle simultaneously. I released my full load into her as I felt her muscles tighten around my dick. We lay side-by-side on the couch and fell asleep in each other’s arms. Neither of us ever heard the yellow pickup drive away.
While Maggie and I were enjoying each other, Dave was at the diner cleaning the kitchen and getting ready to lock the place up for the night. The yellow pickup parked on the dirt road that ran about a half mile behind the diner. The passenger in the car was clad completely in black. He hiked across the field separating the road from the diner and waited for Dave to take the garbage to the dumpster.
Within a few minutes, the back door opened and Dave stepped out mumbling, “Fuckin’ customers would produce a lot less trash if they had to tote this shit out to the dumpster every night.” While Dave opened the dumpster and dropped in the bags of trash, the black-clad stranger slipped in the back door.
Dave returned and continued his cleaning duties. He never saw the intruder. The leather slapper hit him in the temple with a harsh smack. His knees buckled and he dropped to the floor. His attacker snatched an apron from the counter, dropped one end into the fryer, and placed the other end on the grill. He reached down and twisted the knobs. The grill flared to life. Within minutes, the apron was burning, eventually reaching the fryer full of oil. The oil burst into flames filling the kitchen with an acrid, black smoke. Dave lay unconscious on the floor. His attacker slipped out the back door, hiked to the waiting truck, and sped away.
I awoke to a gentle nudge and found Liz standing over us. All she said was, “You should probably get dressed and head home. Don’t you think?”
“What time is it?” I asked, sleepily.
“It’s four in the morning.” Liz responded.
Suddenly, I realized where I was and what a predicament I was in. I jumped up with a start. To add to my embarrassment, my morning woody that was pointed directly at Liz by the time I got to my feet. Maggie began to stir, but had the presence of mind to grab her robe and drape it over her.
I gathered my clothes and headed for the door. Maggie reached out and grabbed a pants leg hanging from my arm. “Hold on, Mister. You don’t think your gonna race out that door, do you?”
I stopped in my tracks and tried to cover my extended appendage with the clothes in my hand. Maggie turned to Liz and said, “Mom, could you give him a minute to get dressed?”
“Okay.” Liz replied. Then she turned to me with a glint in her eye, a sly smile, and said, “It was sure a pleasure to see you again!” With that, she headed into the kitchen.
Maggie came over and kissed me. “Thank you for a lovely evening. It’s been a long time. Take your time and let yourself out. I’m gonna take a shower. Why don’t you come by tomorrow afternoon?”
“Okay” was all I could utter. The last few minutes were a roller coaster ride. Little did I know, but the roller coaster was just leaving the loading ramp.
By the time I dressed and rode past the diner, the slightest trace of sunshine could be seen to the east. The firemen had extinguished the fire and the coroner was examining the charred body lying in the kitchen. Becky was standing in front with a crowd of people. I slid to a stop in the parking lot and rushed over to her.
“Becky, what happened?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.” She replied. “They say it looks like an accident. They think Dave may have passed out and an apron caught fire. That’s all they’ve told me. Dave’s dead. Oh my God, I can’t believe he’s dead.”
I spent the day with Becky. Maggie and Gina came to see her as soon as they heard the news. The fire at the diner was the talk of the town. The staff from the diner seemed to be the only ones concerned about Dave’s death. The rest of the town considered him a drunk and didn’t express much sympathy for his plight.
We reached Jerry on his cell phone and he headed back. He was at Becky’s side by Sunday evening. After giving him time to console Becky, I asked Jerry to join me in the back yard. We walked outside.
“You don’t really believe this was an accident, do you?” I inquired of Jerry.
“Hell no.” he replied. “It’s too damn coincidental that this happens after Becky was threatened. But, the cops don’t want to hear it. They’ve already written it off as an accident and that’s that.”
“There’s no way Dave makes that kind of mistake. He kept that kitchen in immaculate shape. He’s been there for 2 years and nothing like this has ever happened. He may have tanked up after hours, but when he was at that diner he was sober.” I added.
“First thing tomorrow morning, I think we need to pay Cecil ‘Moron’ a visit.” Jerry said.
“I have another idea. Cecil and that other goons always ride home from Pepper’s in Cecil’s truck. Why not catch them together? That way, we can handle both of them at the same time.” I suggested.
“Sounds like a plan.” Jerry agreed.
I met Jerry in front of his house about midnight Monday night. He backed his Road King out of the garage and brought it to life. The dual Reinhardt exhaust let out a mighty roar, as if the Road King knew it was going into battle. We peeled out of the driveway and headed toward Pepper’s.
We idled the bikes through the parking lot to prevent drawing any unnecessary attention to us. We parked the bikes behind the dumpster and waited for Cecil and his buddy to come out of the bar. Jerry was smart enough to bring a thermos full of coffee with him. We sat on the bikes drinking coffee and talking while we waited.
“Becky tells me Maggie’s kinda taken with you.” Jerry said.
I was a surprised that Becky, or anyone else for that matter, paid any attention to the relationship between Maggie and me. “Is that right?” I said. “I guess we flirt a little at the diner, but I’m not here for the long haul. It’d be in Maggie’s best interest to steer clear of guys like me.”
“You know how it goes, man…” Jerry added, “…a person can’t help what they feel.”
“Yeah, I guess”, was all I could say.
About 1:30 Cecil and his boy came out of Pepper’s. We waited to see if anyone else was with them. Once we were sure it was only those two, we moved in silently behind them. I stuck my Glock in the boyfriend’s ear and Jerry gave Cecil a tickle in the back of the head with his Beretta. We ordered them both into the truck without a word. Jerry and I got in the back and kept the guns pointed resolutely at their heads.
“You boys know why we’re here, right?” Jerry asked Cecil.
“Hell no!” he replied.
“Look asshole, don’t play dumb with me. We all know you started that fire at my wife’s diner and killed Dave. Now, we’re gonna kill you.” Jerry said the part about killing them with definitive tone.
“What’s your name, chicken shit?” I asked the guy sitting in front of me.
“Tony, man! My name’s Tony!” He cried. “Look man, I didn’t do nothin’, but drive Cecil over there and back! I didn’t kill nobody! I swear!”
“Shut the fuck up, Tony!” Cecil ordered.
Jerry pulled back the hammer on the Beretta, making a clicking sound that almost made Cecil piss himself. “Cecil, don’t be a dumb ass all your life. You can already see that Tony’s gonna give you up first time he sees a cop. You can either drive to the police station and turn yourself in, or die in this truck. I don’t really give a fuck which choice you make, but you’ve got 5 seconds to make one. Five, four, three…” Jerry began to countdown.
“Okay, okay, we’ll go to the cops.” Cecil blubbered.
“Fire her up and let’s go” Jerry commanded.
We walked the boys to the station door, stashed the guns in our respective pockets, and waited for a cop to come out. The first one out the door was greeted by Jerry, who said, “Today’s your lucky day. You nabbed the guys responsible for the fire down at Becky’s. Have a good one!” and he shoved Cecil toward the cop.
The cop wasn’t sure what to do. I looked at him and said, “Why don’t you get some help out here and we’ll be on our way. Don’t worry. They’ll tell you all about it. I suggest you start with the short one here. He’s very well spoken and informative.”
The cop shouted to the desk sergeant and another cop came running to the door. Jerry and I turned and headed back toward the truck.
“Hey, wait a minute” the first cop said. “You can’t just drop these guys off and leave.”
“Sure we can” Jerry shouted, “Like we said. They want to turn themselves in. They’ll tell you what you want to know.”
We hopped into the truck and drove back to Pepper’s. By the time we arrived there were no cars left in the lot. We parked the truck with a note taped to the driver’s side window that read:
“You’ll have to fight your own fights now, Donnie.”
We rolled the bikes from behind the dumpster and, with pipes screaming, roared down the highway back to town.
Although Tony believed Pepper was the one who told Cecil to set the fire, he never really heard the instructions first hand. Cecil wouldn’t roll on Pepper, so Pepper remained free. However, the noose was tightening and Pepper knew it. It was only a matter of time before he had to pay the piper.
The diner was shut down until Becky’s insurance company cut her a check and she could rebuild. All of us were out of work. That seemed like a sign that my time in Springboro was over. It was a given that I was going to leave, but I felt like I owed it to Maggie to tell her face to face.
The next afternoon I headed over to Maggie’s place. Sammy was on the porch with Liz when I spun up to the curb. He gave me an exuberant wave and made a run for the street. I jumped from the saddle and met him at the curb. He stopped and stared at the bike with the same wonderment he had the first time he saw it. I let him climb in the saddle, but told him I needed to talk to his mom before our ride.
I looked at Liz and sheepishly said, “Hi.” She smiled back and said, “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I haven’t seen Maggie this happy in ages. If you can do that for her, then I am thrilled you’re here.”
I left Liz watching Sammy take his imaginary ride on the bike and walked into the house. Maggie was in the kitchen and didn’t realize I was there until I said, “Hi.” She turned and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply.
“I’m so glad to see you. Becky called this morning and told me what you and Jerry did. Have you lost your mind? You guys could have been killed.” She said.
“Believe me, it was much ado about nothing. That Tony guy spilled his guts as soon as he opened his mouth. There really wasn’t much to it. A ride to the police station, that’s about it.” I told her.
“Still, you shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you” she said with a tenderness I hadn’t expected.
“I came by to take Sammy for a ride. But, when I get back, we need to have a talk. Okay?” I said.
“Ooo, sounds serious”, she laughed. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
I walked outside and helped Sammy get ready for the ride. Liz tugged at my sleeve and said, “Please be gentle with her. She’s been through so much. It’s going to break her heart when you leave.” I didn’t have a response for her.
Sammy locked on with his bear hug and we took off from the corner. I decided since it was our last ride, we’d go further out of town and let him get more wind in his hair. He proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he knew how to hang on.
I never saw the pickup sitting down the street, but it pulled out behind me and began to follow from a distance. I was yelling to Sammy to hang on and asking if he was having fun. We reached the main highway and gained speed. Like a dumb shit, I still hadn’t looked in the mirror. I was too busy enjoying the ride with Sammy.
It gets dark early this time of year, so we didn’t have much time. I didn’t want Sammy on the bike after dark. My plan was to ride a few miles out of town, turn around and come back. I wanted to go far enough to let him experience the thrill of riding on the open road.
The pickup was on me before I even noticed it. I finally looked in the mirror when I heard the horn sounding. I could see Pepper’s crazed face in my mirror. I yelled for Sammy to hold on tighter and hit the throttle. We were able to put enough distance on the pickup to give me room to think.
I couldn’t turn around without running the risk of having Pepper drive right into us head-on. I couldn’t put Sammy off of the bike in the middle of nowhere.
The sun was beginning to set and I was losing daylight.I decided the best plan was to let Pepper catch up, then make a quick turn. I figured by the time he got stopped and reversed, I could be back in town and get Sammy off the bike safely. Sammy was oblivious. He was still screaming with amusement.
Pepper came up behind me again. This time I controlled the throttle enough to keep him off of us, but not get too far ahead of him. As we approached a crossroads, I hit the brake and turned the bike hard to the left, scraping the foot pegs and sending a shower of sparks into the dusk-hued air.
I didn’t give Pepper’s driving skills and reflexes enough credit. He hit the brakes and moved left too. We almost cleared the turn when I felt the front bumper of the pickup hit the rear fender of the “Black Beauty”. The bike stood straight up throwing Sammy and me to the right. I could still feel his bear hug pressing tightly into my chest and ribs. The bike hit the curb and everything went dark…
I woke up in the hospital. I don’t know how long I was there. Becky and Jerry were standing at the foot of my bed. They both looked worse than I felt. When Becky saw my eyes open, she came to my side and took my hand.
“The doctor says you’ll be ok. You have a concussion, a couple of broken ribs and a lot of scrapes and bruises.” She informed me.
“Where’s Sammy?” I asked.
I could tell by the look in her eyes that something was terribly wrong.
“He didn’t make it”, she said as she slumped into the chair next to the bed.
“They did everything they could”, Jerry added. “His little body was just to banged up. He never let go, you know. He was still clutching you when the paramedics arrived. It looked like you both got thrown from the bike and into a tree. You hit the tree back first.”
He didn’t need to tell me Sammy was between me and the tree trunk. I was the reason Sammy was dead and he was the reason I was alive.
“No, goddamnit! No way! This is bullshit! I gotta get the fuck outta here!” I screamed as I began to rip out intravenous lines. Nurses rushed in. With the help of Jerry and an orderly, they were able to restrain and sedate me.
I awoke later with the physical pain of my injuries, but the more serious pain of taking a little boy’s life. I knew it would bring his mother more anguish than she could bear. Jerry was still in the room. Becky was with Maggie and Liz.
“Jerry, how’s Maggie?” I asked.
“Not good, man. This is really hard on her. I gotta tell you the truth. She blames you. It would be best if you didn’t see her any time soon.” Jerry said in the tone of a big brother offering some well meaning advice.
“What happened to Pepper?” I asked.
“He was picked up by the police, but he’s out on bail now pending trial. I think they’ve charged him with vehicular homicide” Jerry informed me.
“What about my bike?” I continued my inquisition.
“It’s over at JT’s Garage. The rear wheel, sprocket, hell, even the frame’s bent some”, he told me.
“Get it fixed!” I demanded. “I plan to be out of here by tomorrow. You tell JT to do whatever he has to, but I need that bike ready to roll in two days.”
“Look man, I’ll tell him, but that’s not going to happen. It’s too beat up. If you feel that strongly about leaving, take the Road King. It’ll get you further than what’s left of your bike.” Jerry offered.
“When’s Sammy’s funeral?” I asked.
“It’s scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. But look, you can’t go. Maggie couldn’t take you being there. You understand?” Jerry implored.
“She won’t know I’m there. Nobody’ll know. Have Becky go with Maggie. You come to the hospital and get me early. I’ll hide out at the cemetery and tell Sammy ‘Goodbye’ after everyone leaves. You can leave my bike or the Road King, whichever one is running, at the cemetery and I’ll leave. No one in this town will ever see me again”, I said.
Jerry agreed and headed out to see what he could do about getting my bike back on the road. After a few minutes, Liz walked into the room. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. She simply walked over to the bed, leaned over me, kissed me on the cheek, and whispered, “It wasn’t your fault. You need to know that. I know Maggie blames you, but she’s striking out at everyone right now. She’ll come around eventually. But, it’s gonna take a while.”
I couldn’t speak. All I could do was squeeze her hand. She could tell by the tears in my eyes how much her words meant to me. Still, even with her forgiveness, I knew I’d never forgive myself for taking Sammy from his mother.
I spent my remaining time in the hospital ensuring I understood exactly what my injuries were. I had work to do and I needed to know my limitations if I was going to accomplish my tasks. The biggest problem was the concussion. I was still groggy, but that was fading with each hour that passed. The doctor assured me I’d be sore for a long time, but other than the broken ribs, everything else seemed to be in working order.
Jerry arrived the next morning and, with his help, I was able to sneak out of the hospital and to his truck. He drove to the cemetery, parked on the far side, and pointed. The Road King, loaded with all of my gear, was sitting next to a mausoleum. I was disappointed my bike wasn’t there, but appreciative of the gesture Jerry was making by letting me take the King.
“Look man. As soon as my bike is ready, load it on your truck and let me know where to meet you. You need this Road King back. It fits you. I appreciate you letting me use it. You know I’ll take good care of it. I owe you big time for this.” I said, with as much gratitude as I have ever expressed.
I exited the truck and made my way over to the bike. All of my gear was there including my Glock, fully loaded, with a round in the chamber. My brother took great care to make sure I had everything I needed.
The funeral procession arrived an hour later. I watched from the corner of the mausoleum. Maggie was supported on one side by Liz and on the other by Becky. She looked as though she could barely walk.
They sat next to the grave site and the pall bearers, Jerry being one of them, placed the casket on the grave. The priest said a few words. I heard the faint singing of a hymn, but I couldn’t make out which one. After the hymn, they bowed their heads in prayer. Everyone stood at the conclusion of the prayer and Maggie and Liz placed flowers on the casket. Liz and Becky then led Maggie back to the car.
It took a few minutes for everyone to disperse, but eventually they trickled off in different directions. The workers arrived with a back hoe and started the process of lowering the casket. I jumped out from behind the mausoleum, broke into a run, and tried to whistle. A sharp pain shot through my chest almost dropping me. I moved as fast as I could and arrived at the grave site as the casket dropped below ground level.
“Guys, could you hold off and give me a minute?” I asked.
They nodded. The back hoe driver shut down the tractor and moved away with the others. It was little Sammy and me sitting in the late autumn sun.
“Hey buddy, I’m sorry I’m late, but I got here as soon as I could. I don’t know what to say. If I could trade places with you I would. If there’s a heaven, then I know you must be up there asking God, ‘Where are the motorbikes?’ I’m sure they’ll have one for you. And, this time you’ll be able to ride in the front. No more backseat riding for you, huh? I’m so sorry, Sammy.”
At that point I lost it. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually one of the workers approached me and said, “Hey man, I know it’s hard to lose a kid. I can only imagine how you must feel. But, we need to finish our work here. Okay?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, sure. Sorry about that. He was a special kid”, I said as I wiped my eyes and wrenched my wrecked body back to an upright position. “’Bye, Sammy”, I whispered as I headed back toward the Road King.
I knew exactly what was next. I spent a couple of days lying in a bed planning my next moves. I mounted the Road King and turned toward Pepper’s. This time, I didn’t worry about being overheard in the parking lot. I slid the Road King to a stop at the front door. I whipped the Glock from my waistband and kicked open the door.
Jason was the only one in the bar. Business had fallen off since word got out that Pepper killed his own son. I looked at Jason and, without saying anything he nodded toward the office and slipped out the back door.
Pepper was sitting in his office counting money when I walked in. There were several large stacks of cash and a Smith and Wesson pistol sitting on the desk. It was obvious Pepper was planning to take a trip and was making sure he had plenty of cash to take with him. “What the fuck do you want?” he asked.
“I want you to die, mother fucker!” I replied.
“So what, you gonna come into my bar and shoot me dead?” He asked incredulously.
“No, I’m here to watch you kill yourself”, I informed him.
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” It was obvious Pepper wasn’t understanding me.
“I’m going to stand here while you put that pistol in your mouth and pull the trigger. Do you understand now, Pepper?” I stated.
“You must be crazy, asshole. I’m getting out of this shit hole town. Hell, I saw an opportunity to get rid of a deformed kid and some biker trash. It didn’t work out. That’s all. I’ve got enough money to live a nice life on some island somewhere. Why would I want to kill myself?” Pepper countered.
I moved toward him and grabbed the pistol before he could reach it. I placed it against his temple and heard the BANG as the shot rang out. Blood and brains splattered against the wall and on my gloved hand. I carefully placed the pistol in Pepper’s hand and laid them both in his lap as he sat slumped in the chair.
I gathered all of the money in a bag and moved quietly to the front door. As I slung my leg over the Road King, Jason walked around the building. He was holding the same 12 gauge he used the day I fought with Pepper, Cecil and Tony.
He smiled at me and said, “I couldn’t be sure which one of you was going to come outta that door. If you hadn’t finished him, I was gonna. You better hit the road.”
“I have a couple of errands to run and then I’m gone forever. Thanks, kid, twice.” I said as I fired up the Road King.
I rode back to town and swung by Jerry and Becky’s place. The house was dark. I left $25,000 and a note that read:“This should cover repairs to the bike, hospital bills, and give you guys a few bucks left over. Thank you for everything, brother. If you ever need me, send an email to: saddletramp@bikernet.com. I’ll meet you wherever and whenever you say. Let me know when the bike’s ready.”
Before leaving Jerry’s, I used the phone and called Maggie’s house. A voice I didn’t recognize answered the phone. I asked for Liz. A couple of minutes passed and I heard Liz’s voice, “Hello?”
“Liz, it’s me. Listen, I have something for you and Maggie. I need you to meet me down at the diner, in the parking lot behind the building. It’s important. And, Liz, I need you to come alone.” I instructed.
“Sure. I’ll be right there”, she replied.
Within minutes Liz was exiting the old Jeep Cherokee I saw Maggie in that first day. I walked over to her and placed a bag in her hand.
“This is for you and Maggie”, I said. “She deserves it. One day, when you think she’s ready, give it to her. I’m hoping it can make her dreams come true, if she can find a way to dream again. In the meantime, use some of it to take care of her. She’s gonna need help.”
Liz opened the bag and went blank. “There must be thousands of dollars in here” she said.
“Actually, if my hurried math is right, there’s hundreds of thousands of dollars in there.” I told her.
I left Liz standing next to the old Jeep.
I picked up a paper in St. Louis. It contained a story about a bar owner in Indiana who killed himself. The story quoted an employee as saying, “He was so distraught over causing the death of his son. I only left the office for a minute when I heard the shot. By the time I got back, he was sitting there dead. He shot himself in the head.” No additional investigation was being conducted, the story read.
I’ve been riding hard for a couple of days now. Plus, it’s late fall and I need to head south for the winter. It’s getting close to Thanksgiving. Maybe I’ll go to Oklahoma.
To Be Continued…
