“Not a date. I just want to buy you a drink to show you I’m sorry. After you get off, we grab a table and I’ll buy you a drink. Just to apologize. I don’t want you thinking of me as nothing but a jerk.”
Brad’s persistence was annoying, but it seemed unfair to refuse a peace offering. “One drink, and then I go home.”
Brad held up his hands. “That’s all I ask.”
That gave her an opening, a way to get a little something she wanted more than a drink. “I’ll agree if you leave me alone until then. I’ll take your order, but don’t try and chat me up while I’m working.”
He smiled. “Fair enough.”
Simone wasn’t sure if his smile was sincere—it was slippery and ambiguous and made it seem like he thought he was getting away with something. The incident the day before made it clear it bothered him that she ignored him. She hadn’t disliked him; he just wasn’t someone who interested her. She’d heard him chat with other patrons, and she’d gotten the impression that he was not a direct or straightforward person. He never told them things he’d done, but he alluded to grand things. Maybe he thought it made him seem mysterious. He made it sound as if he was involved in things that were illegal, or at least marginally so, and apparently thought that was heroic.
She assumed that this was a form of bragging, of making what he did sound more important than it really was. She knew many people thought criminal activities were somehow attractive, just as things that were taboo often got their interest. That was something she didn’t understand at all. And the dark web stuff Brad talked about… well, she wasn’t a computer person and those were nothing but buzz words to her. She’d heard of the dark web, but only in terms of people getting arrested for dealing there. Come to think of it, most of that was stuff from popular movies, not real life. Anyone could talk like that; if he really did do illegal things on the dark web, if he were some sinister figure, why would he talk about it? That part puzzled her. Possibly criminals bragged about their crimes, and maybe it was just bravado, but it didn’t impress her either way.
Whatever Brad had in mind, his promise held. He kept his conversation minimal—mostly to drink orders—and talked with another regular about some political stuff that she worked hard not to pay any attention to. Simone had no interest in politics.
An hour before her shift ended, Rafe LaRue and Max Bennett came in, smiling a greeting and taking seats. She took a breath and realized that she’d been waiting for them, hoping they’d come in. But which one? She couldn’t decide, and that seemed wrong, but she was happy to see them both.
Maybe it was that they were a mass of contradictions. Rafe struck her as a kind and intelligent man, and not at all the sort of person who would run with bikers, terrorizing people. Max seemed quiet and brooding, and more like the type, but there seemed to be something deeper to him as well. Yet, they wore the colors, and she doubted there were many people brave enough to wear biker colors who didn’t have the right. Not only would they get their asses kicked by the gang that owned the colors, but they would also risk running into their enemies and being shunned by ordinary people. No, Rafe and Max weren’t play-acting to impress her.
She took their orders, and when she brought them their cold, long-necked bottles of beer and set them in front of them, she decided to ask the question that nagged her. “Why do you two always dress like bikers?”
They both looked at her, and Rafe was clearly taking the question seriously. Max seemed to be in thought as well. She liked that.
“Well, I always am a biker,” Rafe said. “Why?”
“Yep.” Max grunted before taking a sip of his beer.
“You don’t seem to enjoy antagonizing people, yet you have to know it sets people on edge for you to come into a place like this wearing colors. They wonder if there will be a fight, or if you’re going to do any of the crap bikers are famous for. It’s asking for trouble.”
They nodded, listening carefully. Rafe said, “Here is the short version of that story. I did a few years in the Marines. I went in without a high-school education, and they helped me get my GED and then taught me computers. I learned that I had a knack for computers, and I loved being in the Corps—the camaraderie. We looked out for each other, and my family… well, I had never had one before. As things happened, I couldn’t stay in the Marines, but that’s another sad story. The point being, when I was discharged, I felt like I’d lost my family, and being out of uniform felt just plain weird—uncomfortable.”
“I can imagine.”
“I’d saved my money while I was in, so without anything better to do, I got a motorcycle and started traveling around, wanting to see the country. I wound up using my computer skills from time to time, doing some programming work on the fly, so to speak. To keep the story short, I arrived here, met up with The Road Kings, and found some really great people. They accepted me into what turned out to be a different kind of family. For the most part, we share the same values, and that means a lot. No group is without its faults or problems, but in general I fit into the group well, and once I put on this new uniform, I didn’t want to take it off. It feels right and I’m proud of it.”
“Even when it causes you trouble?”
“You don’t control how other people view your choices. My old uniform caused lots of trouble too. You’d be surprised at how many people have trouble with a Marine going into a bar, or talking to a pretty girl.” He smiled a sweet smile. “I learned to just accept that showing who you are upfront seems to bother some people, puts a bug up their ass. If they want to judge me based on my uniform, that’s just profiling, with all the failings of judging by stereotypes. Ultimately, I decided that if all I am to people is what the movies tell them a biker is, there isn’t a thing I can do about that. But I can refuse to play their game or change mine.”
She nodded thoughtfully before looking at Max. “What about you? Similar story?”
He shrugged. “Not really. No military or nothin’. My ma raised me and my sister, who’s several years younger than me. She met a nice guy a few years ago. Name was Dozer.”
“He was a Kings brother?” asked Simone, wondering if that was the best role model.
“Yeah. He got me involved and showed me the ropes. It provided some stabilizing influences for me, especially after Ma got breast cancer. It took a while for her to go, and I was lost. Would have been worse if Dozer hadn’t been there to keep me on the straight-and-narrow—and if I didn’t have Danielle to think about.”
“Your sister?”
He nodded. “She’s in a special art college. She had to audition with her portfolio and everything.”
His pride was obvious, and she realized he’d spoken more in his succinct explanation than she’d heard him say at one stretch before. “I know it was over a card game, but I assume you two met in the club?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Rafe. “He immediately knew I was one to look up to, and I took him under my wing as an act of kindness.”
Max snorted and shook his head, but he didn’t argue.
“After you beat each other up.” Simone opened her mouth, wanting to know more about their friendship, but a call from another table for more beer reached Simone and she saw Sam staring at her. “I have to go.”