Page 17 of Justice for Radar

“Good idea,” he said and kicked off his sneakers and stripped off his socks, too. We went down into the warm sand and headed down the beach where there was a knot of people under an easy up canopy that were wearing the same leather vests as Radar.

“Radar!” someone crowed and there was a flash of silver as they chucked a can of beer at him from the cooler. Radar caught it much like a football and cracked it open, holding it out from his body as it foamed and sucking some of the froth off the top.

“Thanks, Lightning!”

“Hey, Papá,” Lucia called.

“Hey, baby,” he called back. She smiled and went back to talking to another blond woman, older than her but still in her twenties somewhere. She wore a vest that was form fitting that readBlossomwhere the nametag was, although unlike the boy’s vests, hers was embroidered directly into the leather in a carefully stitched cursive.

“Ah, hey, Captain,” Radar called and a bigger man with long brown hair in a loose braid down his back came over. He rubbed along the neat, trim beard he had and over his mouth as he sauntered over to us, measuring me up from behind his wraparound, orange-lensed sunglasses.

“Justice, this is the club’s captain, or president, Cutter. Cutter, this is Justice. She’s staying with me and the fam until next week when she can catch her flight back home.”

“Nice to meet you, Justice.” Cutter’s voice was a rich timbre as he held out a big, calloused hand to me. I took it and shook it quickly and weakly.

“Nice to meet you,” I said meekly. Lord, he was an imposing figure! So was his second in command, Marlin and the captain’s purported best friend and business partner, Pyro. Although Pyro wasn’t as physically imposing as he was presence wise… and not like Radar, either. No, in Pyro I saw the familiar mannerisms of unpredictability that bespoke anger issues and maybe even alcoholism.

I made a mental note to avoid being alone with him in any capacity as he went and got himself another beer and cracked it open, the set of his mouth grim and his energy roiling as though he were on a hair trigger. I caught Cutter eyeing him grimly out of the corner of my eye and when Cutter realized I was looking, he turned his attention fully to me and gave me a grim nod… as though to say he saw it, he recognized it, too, and he would somehow keep a lid on it.

Funnily enough, I believed everything that he telegraphed in that one look and when I turned back to Radar and Atlas, who was again chatting a mile a minute – there was a curious look on Radar’s face. He gave me a single nod as though to reinforce what the captain’s look had communicated.

It took me a while to politely extricate myself from the boisterous throng of bikers and their women, but I managed just so I could catch my breath from it all. It had been a whirlwind of introductions and curiosity on their part, and I was embarrassed to find they all seemed to know my story whichhow humiliating.I was quickly recognizing that I was getting whelmed, and thus I made my polite but swift exit to walk along the shore solo for a bit to catch my breath.

I was an introvert by nature, and too many people all at once when I was in the headspace that I was in could be a detriment to my stress levels and could lead to even further decompensation of my mental state into a deep depression.

Yeah, there had been quite a bit of therapy after what’d happened with Rodney, focusing on coping mechanisms for the PTSD that’d resulted.

“You doing okay?” I jumped and turned to Radar who had somehow crept up on me and strolled beside me. He held out a soda to me; the can crisp and cold, dripping with condensation.

“Thank you,” I murmured and opened it. It didn’t froth or overflow. I took a healthy swallow, the carbonation burning all the way down.

“I’m alright,” I lied.

He snorted and said, “Bullshit.” But his accompanying laugh took any of the sting that should have been in it right out.

I smiled and said, “I’m sorry, I just get sort of overwhelmed really easily and with everything that’s happened with Billy…” I paused and looked out over the water and sighed. “I’m just not in the best headspace for meeting new people or to make new friends. I just don’t feel like anyone should have to deal with my bullshit, you know?”

“Hey.” He put a hand to my arm and stopped us in the sand. “It’s not bullshit, and it’s not a bunch of made-up drama, either. What happened to you was really super shitty and even though it’s been a few days? It’s not gonna magic be all better – it might never really be better. Being left like that has to be traumatizing as hell, but you’re gonna be alright. We’ll get you all taken care of.”

I smiled and murmured, “Thanks. I mean, I don’t know what else to say.” I let out a nervous laugh. “And that seems so woefully inadequate, but I mean it, thank you… for giving me a place to stay, for making sure I don’t lose my shit and for all the little reminders to keep me from doing so.” I pressed my lips together and quit my gushing, blushing faintly and taking another drink of the crisp, citrusy soda.

“You know how you can thank me?” he asked.

“Mm?” I asked taking another mouthful of the drink and rolling it across my tongue before swallowing.

“Just talk to me. What’s your story Morning Glory?” he asked with a grin.

“Um, where to start?” I asked back, stepping slowly. He obliged me and we strolled slowly and lightly along the surf.

“How about with how old you are?” he asked.

I laughed slightly and said, “Thirty-one, about to turn thirty-two.”

He nodded and thought about that for a bit.

“What about you?” I asked.

“Forty-five, be forty-six in a couple months.”

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