Page 7 of Brick

Three

A few months later…

Brick’sblack Harley pulled up to the diner’s gravel parking lot. The rumbling engine was drowned out by the heavy growl of Walrus’s Fatboy. Both men had been on a delivery run for the day and all had gone according to plan, but tensions were high in the club. Deuce and Ratchet had panicked and pitched two packs of cocaine over the side of the mountain during a police chase a week ago. The Tail almost claimed another victim when Ratchet’s bike wiped out on a tight curve. A deputy took him to the hospital, and now Ratchet sat in the local jail, his leg in a cast. The sheriff had enough charges to hold him, but Brick made sure there was no drug evidence left at the scene added to the mix. He and Deuce had spent that night searching the thick undergrowth at the base of the cliff for the missing backpacks full of drugs before any of the deputies could find them. One plastic bag had ruptured, but the rest were intact. Jesse and Blackjack argued hard at the club’s cabin and nearly came to blows over the fuckup.

Walrus dismounted with a grunt. He was one of the oldest members of the club and earned his moniker from the long drooping mustache that obscured his mouth. “Thought this place was a teenager hangout. Food any good?”

Brick leaned his bike over on the kickstand, stretched his sore shoulders, and scratched at his thick beard and sideburns. The run had been a long seven hours without a break. “If you like your burgers with a side of grease, yeah, it’s good.”

Walrus grunted. “Not much into eatin’ out these days, but I’m too damn tired for anything else.” The man lifted his arms in the air and arched, making his back sound like a pan of Jiffy Pop popcorn being toasted on a stovetop. “Fuck it, I’m too damn old for this shit.”

Brick agreed in silence. They entered the diner and were greeted by a blast of country music from the jukebox. Twilight was barely peeking over the horizon and the place was already packed. Walrus didn’t wait to be seated; he ambled over to the only open booth and heaved his bulk into it. Brick shook his head and followed. He had been working a lot with the big man recently. The older man spent most of his days at the garage and his nights either at the clubhouse or somewhere in solitude. Brick realized Walrus still mourned the loss of his only child and was a lonely old man.

Walrus plucked a plastic-covered menu from behind the napkin holder and flipped it open. He pulled out his cigarettes at the same time.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t smoke in this section.”

The soft female voice sent a thrill down Brick’s spine, and he didn’t need to look up to see who it was. Betsey stood next to the table in her pink uniform, order pad ready to go. He smiled big and leaned back, capturing her attention. “Hey, Betsey. You doin’ okay?”

A blush raced over her face, but she met his gaze head-on. He liked that. A lot.

Brick had started coming by the diner as often as he could. A few times, he showed up at closing to steal a few kisses and give Betsey a ride back to her house on the back of his bike. She didn’t know what that meant, but someday Brick would tell her.

“I’m jus’ fine, Brick.”

“You closin’ tonight?”

“Yeah. Should be done cleanin’ ’round eleven.”

“I’ll come by later.”

Her blush deepened. Brick guessed she was thinking about the upcoming kisses. “You know what you want to order?”

Brick looked over at Walrus. He was staring at Betsey with an open mouth and a strange expression on his face. He had gone pale and his eyes were wide. “Ah, just bring us a couple cheeseburger platters with fries and Cokes.”

He watched her retreat before turning to the man sitting across from him. “Fuck, man, you gonna have a heart attack? We can move over to the smoking section if you need it that bad.”

Walrus shook himself. “I’m fine. I’ll go outside an’ smoke if I need it. Pretty girl. What’s her name? Betsey?”

“Yeah. Preacher’s daughter over at the Methodist church, and she’s too damn young for you. She graduated same time as me. Why? You know her?”

Walrus shook his head and put the menu back into the holder. “Nope. Never seen her before.”

He drummed his fingers on the top of the gold-speckled Formica. Brick thought it was either to fill the void or to stave off the need for a smoke.

“You did good today. Steady ride. No horsin' around and no complaints.”

“Thanks.”

“Jesse say when you get your full patch?”

Brick sighed and put his elbows on the table. “Not yet. It took Deuce a year before they patched him. I 'spect it’ll take longer for me, being as Jesse’s my father. He’s been tougher on me than the other prospects, an’ I’m sure it’s because he don’t want no one to think he’s givin’ me special treatment.”

Walrus grunted and pulled at his mustache. “Huh. Far’s I can tell, don’t matter who your daddy is. You’ve been working hard an’ staying straight for the club a long time. Fixin' Deuce’s fuckup was somethin’ you didn’t have to do, but you did. If he an’ Ratchet hadn’t been playin' games on the Tail, there never woulda been a problem.”

“I didn’t do it for Deuce. I did it for Ratchet. He was the one who got hurt an’ sat in that jail still hurtin’ an keepin’ his mouth shut for the rest of us. I can’t call myself his brother unless I’m willin’ to take his back. If that means crawling around through vines all night, so be it.”

“Deuce is gonna get someone killed. Takes too many chances. Jesse shoulda never patched him so quick.”

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