Page 18 of Bristol

I want to see what I can do for her, but I’m not sure where to begin. Maybe I’ll talk it over with Mikey later. He always has the answer to everything. We hop in the truck and head to the cafe down the street. The café is quiet, for the most part, aside from an old couple sitting at the bar directly in front of the doors. There’s a fifties feel to the place that I’ve always liked, right down to the pictures hanging on the wall and the large, round barstools at the bar.

“Wow. This place is really neat,” Bristol says, looking around in wonderment.

“It’s one of my favorite spots.”

We seat ourselves and the waitress, Frankie, hands us a few menus. She greets me with a warm smile.

“Hey, Sebastian.”

“Hey, Frankie. This is my friend…” I pause, not sure if I should say her name or not. Frankie quirks an eyebrow at me.

Bristol swoops in to save the day. “Bristol,” she says, sticking her hand out.

Frankie shakes it and Bristol smiles at her.

“Nice to meet you, Bristol. My name’s Francine, but Sebastian here refuses to call me that and only calls me Frankie. And I refuse to call him Bash like everyone else and just call him Sebastian.”

Bristol giggles. “All I have is Bristol. No nickname, so we should be good.”

“Bristol it is, then,” Frankie laughs before walking away.

Bristol peers at the menu before scrunching her nose up.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Everything sounds so good and I have no idea what to order.”

I chuckle. “Well, what are you in the mood for?”

She eyes me slowly over the menu, wearing a sinister grin.

“What’s your favorite meal in the world?” I ask, ignoring the fuck-me eyes she’s giving me.

“I’ve always loved fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy over everything, but mostly my Ma’s.”

“There’s a fried chicken plate that’s served with red beans and rice and mashed potatoes. It’s like the ultimate combo of the best food they serve here.”

She smiles softly up at me and slides her menu over to me. “Perfect. Let’s give it a try.”

I take her menu with mine and set it off to the side.

Frankie comes back and takes our order. Well, Bristol’s order. I get the same thing every time I come here. There’s never any need for me to order. Fried catfish with a side of red beans and rice, coleslaw, and a sweet tea.

“Look, Bristol…” I start, but pause, unsure of how to come out and say what I need to.

Her bright eyes darken and confusion mars her pretty face.

“You’re throwing me out on my own, aren’t you?” She asks the question but it sounds more like a realization than an actual question.

“No! Not at all.”

Her shoulders relax at my response. I’m not that much of an asshole.

“I just… I need to know what you’re planning to do. Are you going to stay, leave? Keep your name? Go home? Change your name? Fresh start? What is the plan?”

“I want to start over. There’s nothing left for me at home. I don’t want to go back there. Not with the whole town thinking I had something to do with my family’s murder. I can’t face that. I want to forget I ever had a life before I met the Tattered Saints.”

I smile at the sound of my club’s name rolling off her lips. My home.

---