Page 3 of Bear Strength

“Anything on the menu,” I shrug. “The apple pie is fresh.”

I can feel my nerves doing a number on me, and I know it’s not him. He hasn’t done anything apart from being an asshole. It’s a free world. People can be assholes, if they want to. But, it’s something else. Something that always starts from somewhere deep inside, and it surfaces no matter what I do. Fear is always the same. It just wears a different cape.

“What about your pie?” he asks.

For a second, I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. I really do. But, the way he’s looking at me, the way he’s talking… I know I’m not wrong.

“Excuse me?” I ask, in a non-threatening manner, as if I really just overheard.

“I asked what about your - “

“Doyle!”

A voice hits my ears like lightning, and my eyes immediately roll over to where it’s coming from. I didn’t even hear the doorbell ring this time. I was too focused on this asshole in front of me, asking about my pie. He turns around at the same moment I do, and I see his cockiness just ooze out of him.

“We need to go.”

The man at the door has a calm voice, but at the same time, demanding. There is no negotiation with men like that. I swallow heavily as I watch the biker get up from his stool, and with a lowered head, lumber out of the diner. The kitchen towel still in my hands, that glass now sparkling clean. My eyes are still on the man, who is holding the door open.

Only now do I realize that he is wearing the same jacket, with the same red patch on the left shoulder. It’s too far away for me to see what it is, so I don’t even try. His jeans are torn at the knees, brown at the bottom hems, where the jeans disappear into his black, ankle high boots. He’s wearing a black bandana on his head, and he looks like he hasn’t seen a razor in days. But, he makes it work. It’s just the right amount of civilized with a touch of a lumberjack.

He throws a casual glance my way, and it expels the air right out of my lungs.

“Tell Bill the poker game’s on for Tuesday,” he throws at me, then slams the door on his way out.

I have no idea why I’m shaking so much. I quickly put the glass down on the counter, just in case I drop it. A moment later, Susie manifests out of the kitchen. She scans the room quickly, then looks at me, all puzzled.

“Didn’t I just hear the bell?”

I take a deep breath, my heart panting.

“You OK, hun?” she asks, walking over to me, and placing a matronly hand on my shoulder.

“Fine,” I smile. “It was just a biker and he was just asking me all these questions. Then, another biker opened the door, called him, and said to tell Bill the poker game’s on for Tuesday.”

“Oh, the Hellraisers,” Susie replies, with a mixture of emotions all intertwined in her voice, indistinguishable one from the other.

“Hellraisers?” I repeat.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of them?” Susie seems not just surprised, but downright shocked. “They practically run this town. And, all the towns around us.”

“You mean, like the mafia?” I ask, and we both chuckle.

“Something like that, yeah,” she nods. “Just like the mafia. Only, they aren’t just plain old criminals. They help the community, they renovated the old school. They build playgrounds, for God’s sake. That’s why it’s so hard to hate them.”

“So, they’re like criminals with a heart of gold?” I wonder.

“All joking aside, it’s wisest to just stay out of their way, if you can.”

I glance at the door, and the image of that rugged biker came to me again. Goosebumps travel up my body, just once. Then, they settled down.

“I don’t plan on rocking anyone’s boat,” I assure her. “I’ve got enough waves of my own to take care of.”

We both smile at each other. The doorbell is heard again, and I realize that it’ll be lunchtime soon.

CHAPTER 2

I rake my fingers through my hair, nervously. I’m trembling for a cigarette, but I promised myself I won’t start smoking again, no matter how hard it gets. And, it got pretty hard.

---