Shades went inside, grabbed a couple of things and came back out. He knelt and shoved them in one of his saddlebags. When he stood, he looked at Ghost. “Sorry you got dragged into this shit.”
Ghost grinned. “That’s okay, I totally wanted to drop everything I was doing today to take care of your bullshit.”
The corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Wasn’t my choice, Brother.”
“I know it.”
Shades turned to Skylar and asked, “You need to hit the john, do it now. I ain’t stoppin’ a million times.”
With that, she nodded and headed inside.
Ghost leaned sideways back against his bike, his ass in the seat, his legs crossed at the ankles. His head turned as he watched Skylar leave, then his eyes swung back to Shades and he asked, “She ever ridden long distance?”
“Not that I know of.”
“You do realize this ride is over three hundred miles.”
“Know how far it is, Ghost.”
“Just sayin’.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“Right. We won’t make it past Tuscaloosa before her ass is sore.”
“Probably not.”
“You’re not stoppin’?”
“Not sayin’ that. We’ll have to stop for gas.”
“These tanks, we got two hundred miles. Maybe. My bet? She’ll give out long before we have to stop for gas, Brother.”
“Yeah, probably,” Shades conceded with a huffed out breath. “Meridian’s about half way. We may end up there.”
“Two days down. Two days back. And how many you figure in Louisiana once Undertaker gets a look at her?”
“One, if I have my way.”
Ghost grinned. “Fifty bucks says we’re gone a week.”
Shades scowled at him.
Skylar walked back out of the shop, and Shades walked over and locked the door.
“So, where are we going exactly?” she asked.
“Told you, getting you out of town,” Shades replied.
“I know, but where?”
“New Orleans.”
He watched a slow smile form on her face.
Shit.
“We’re going to New Orleans? I’ve always wanted to see the French Quarter. Bourbon Street. Jackson Square. Oh, and that place with the coffee and beignets that’s been there since like before the Civil War.”