Page 43 of Hawk

“No,” Laura said with a tired smile.

“Yeah, two slices of pie, please. Blackberry and cherry. To go. And…” I pulled a fifty-dollar bill from my wallet, “keep the change.”

“Thanks, sugar.” She winked at me, tucking the money into her apron before she went to check on her other tables.

“I said I was paying,” Laura whined adorably.

“I know, and I said you weren’t. But you can buy me dinner tonight. I’ll be in the mood for Chinese. Extra egg rolls.” I slid out of the booth and held my hand out to her.

“Fine,” she grumbled as we got settled on my bike.

***

When we arrived at the community center, she was still grumbling about me paying for breakfast.

“I’ll get appetizers too if it’ll make you stop whining.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “I am not whining.”

“Okay, fine, not whining, just complaining in a pouty, childlike fashion.” I laughed when she smacked my stomach.

“Smart-ass.”

“Mr. Hawk’s here!” One of the kids who frequented the community center rushed over with his hand up for a high-five, which I obliged. “Can I sit on your bike?”

“Yeah, kid. But remember the rule?” I lifted the boy, who couldn’t be more than eight years old, up and sat him on the bike.

“Don’t give too much throttle,” he repeated with a laugh.

“That’s right.” I watched as the kid’s face lit up with joy as he made motorcycle sounds and pretended to be riding. “I can’t wait until I’m old enough to get a bike of my own!”

Laura smiled. “You don’t want a car with a roof and doors?”

“No way, this is so cool. Ain’t it, Mr. Hawk?”

“Yeah, that’s right, Landon.” I ruffled the kid’s hair, but he was somewhere else, somewhere far away, probably on some highway with the wind in his hair. “The coolest, way better than cramped cages.”

“Hey! Hawk, Laura. I hope you both came to paint?” Justin pointed to fresh graffiti on the wall with hope in his eyes.

“That’s why we’re here. Put us to work.”

Laura turned to me. “You knew about this?”

“Of course I did. You up for this?”

She nodded. “Yes!” She rushed off towards the group of kids sifting through coveralls, accepting a pair from a sullen-looking teenage girl.

“I don’t recognize the signs. You know who this is?” The colors were all over the place, red and green and blue with a few streaks of pink. Any combination could belong to a local gang or MC. The signs were mildly gang-like, but it was a jumble of different shit and nothing recognizable.

Justin shook his head. “No fucking clue. If I had to guess, I’d say a mentally ill wannabe gangster.”

That was as close to the truth as any other guess. “Shit. We’ll get it cleaned up, don’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

“I brought you a pair.” Laura smiled as she held up an oversized pair of coveralls. “The sleeves are gone so you can flex and put on a little show.”

“Now who’s the smart-ass?”

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