Page 21 of Doozer

“Earlier, when I dropped off the check, Cowboy let me know you guys were gonna be down a man on your next run.”

“And?” I asked, terrified of what he’d say next.

“And… I sort of volunteered my services.”

I took another step back. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“I told you. I want to get to know you better. I figured I could do that if—”

“If you stalked me?”

“If I was on the road with you for a few days,” he corrected, stepping forward to meet me. “Honestly, I thought after the other night, you’d be into the idea.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” I huffed.

“Wait a minute,” Doozer said, breaking into a huge smile. “You’re not mad. You’re chicken.”

“Chicken? What are you? In sixth grade or something?”

“Ahhhhh,” Doozer replied, waiving a finger at me. “I’m right. You’re chicken.”

“I’ll kick your ass right here on this porch,” I said.

“I don’t doubt that one bit, but I’m still right,” he said, folding his arms. “You had as good a time as I did the other night, and you like me.”

“Immatureandconceited,” I said, unable to hide my smile.

“See? You like me, but you’re too chicken to do anything about it.”

“I’m not afraid of anyone,” I said. “And you can take that stupid grin off your face.”

“Prove it…chicken.”

“I’m not chicken, I’m just not interested in you,” I said.

“Bock, bock, bock,” Doozer replied, folding his arms into wings, and flapping them wildly.

“Stop it,” I said, my smile now turning to giggles.

“Prove it. Prove you’re not chicken by letting me go on this run with you,” he challenged, all the while clucking and strutting around the porch like a barnyard rooster.

It was the silliest and most endearing thing I’d ever seen a biker do, but then again, I’d never met a biker like Doozer. He was tough and clearly knew how to handle himself, but he also seemed earnest and sincere. Doozer was also right. I liked him.

“Fine, but if you step out of line, I’ll pluck your feathers out one by one,” I said, poking a finger in Doozer’s chest.

“Wait,” he said, straightening up. “You’resupposed to be the chicken in this scenario.”

“We’ll see who’s chicken when the first group of kids show up.”

Doozer’s face fell. “Kids? I thought we were just gonna make a bunch of drop offs. Cowboy didn’t say anything about kids.”

* * *

Doozer

We were on day three of our week-long run and so far, had already visited two youth centers, five foster homes, and three churches. Each one packed with kids. The energy needed for unloading the truck was nothing compared to what it took to keep up with them. I could see why Trouble loved working with them and admired her even more for the work she did. BFK was proving to be a great group to ride with. Cowboy and his crew rode hard, fast and kept the grumbling to a minimum. The donated truck’s worrisome transmission appeared to be holding up fine and Trouble and I were getting on like a house on fire.

We gassed up our bikes and the truck, and now it was time for our band of merry elves to top off our caffeine levels. As the newbie of the group, I was elected to pick up the group’s order from a coffee shop and was stoked when Trouble volunteered to go with me, as we’d had little time to ourselves. The breakneck pace of the trip coupled with the onslaught of rug rats everywhere we went made it difficult to find private time, but we stole moments whenever we could. Sometimes we’d talk, sometimes we’d make out. Either way, I looked forward to any time I could spend with her.

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