my excellent mechanic out on a date in appreciation of her fixing my bike.”
Mary nodded her head slightly and Roger led her into the diner. A date? The last time she’d been on a real date, the boy’s father had driven them to the movies.
Roger was so easy to talk to. They talked about family. They talked about bikes. They compared engines and compressions and acceleration and handling in bad weather. Time seemed to stand still. That is, until the waitress said, “Sorry folks, you need to pay up. We’re closing in about 15 minutes.”
“Closing?” Mary said. “I thought you were open until 2 a.m.?”
The waitress laughed and said, “We are, honey. We are.” Then as she walked away she said to no one in particular, “Ain’t love grand?”
“I guess I’d better get you back to the shop,” said Roger, suddenly looking at his watch. “Or is there someplace else I should drop you off?”
“The shop, I guess. I only hope Dad’s still out of town.”
Little did Mary realize that her dad was the least of her worries. As they walked out of the diner, they could see at least a dozen other bikes parked at the edge of the lot by Roger’s motorcycle. There was also a gleaming bike, but from the color she could tell it wasn’t her dad’s. Standing next to Roger’s bike were several mechanics from the shop. With them were some of the welders and builders from CJ’s. CJ himself was sitting on his bike glaring at them as they came across the lot.
As they approached, one of the men spoke up. “Now I know that Mr. Taylor has always told us that there has to be peace between the chapters, but I don’t think this is a chapter to chapter problem.”
“No,” said CJ from where he was sitting. “This is more like a man to man—or men to punk who wants to mess with At’s baby girl—problem.”
“You know that’s a very dangerous thing to do,” said a third man holding a couple of tools in his hands, “and when you do dangerous things, bad stuff can happen. A brake retainer could come loose and lock up your back wheel at speed.”
Another man said, “Or a link could loosen on the chain and release while you’re in a curve.”
“Speaking of curves,” said a fourth voice from the back of the group, “I’ve heard that there are a lot of very slippery curves between here and Texas. Why, if something were to come alongside you on one of those curves you might lose control and go flying off into who knows what.”
CJ smiled at him and said, “Do you get our drift, Texas Chapter President, or do I have to spell it out a little more clearly for you?”
Roger stood next to Mary while the men, except for CJ, began to form a circle around them. Mary couldn’t see clearly whether or not any of the men were holding anything in their hands, but even if they weren’t, there were 14 of them plus CJ. Roger didn’t stand a chance.
“Wait just a God-damned minute!” she yelled at them. “You fuckers are going to listen to me or by God, you will see what else I inherited from my father besides my magic touch with engines.”
All of the men stepped back unconsciously. Perhaps it was the cold fury in Mary’s voice. Perhaps it was because they had never, ever before heard her swear or use truly vulgar language. Or perhaps it was because as she stood there glaring at them, she somehow looked very much like a female version of Atticus.
Her voice softened very slightly and she held up her hand, pointing slightly at CJ. “Roger,” she said, “I would like you to meet CJ Walsh, my dad’s business partner. His name is actually John Walsh. The CJ stands for Crazy Jack.”
Her voice went back to full fury. Pulling Roger with her she pushed through the line of men and stood at the front wheel of his bike facing him. “And God-dammit Jack, tonight you are living up to your name.”
While Jack and the men with him were still staring at her in
Mary nodded her head slightly and Roger led her into the diner. A date? The last time she’d been on a real date, the boy’s father had driven them to the movies.
Roger was so easy to talk to. They talked about family. They talked about bikes. They compared engines and compressions and acceleration and handling in bad weather. Time seemed to stand still. That is, until the waitress said, “Sorry folks, you need to pay up. We’re closing in about 15 minutes.”
“Closing?” Mary said. “I thought you were open until 2 a.m.?”
The waitress laughed and said, “We are, honey. We are.” Then as she walked away she said to no one in particular, “Ain’t love grand?”
“I guess I’d better get you back to the shop,” said Roger, suddenly looking at his watch. “Or is there someplace else I should drop you off?”
“The shop, I guess. I only hope Dad’s still out of town.”
Little did Mary realize that her dad was the least of her worries. As they walked out of the diner, they could see at least a dozen other bikes parked at the edge of the lot by Roger’s motorcycle. There was also a gleaming bike, but from the color she could tell it wasn’t her dad’s. Standing next to Roger’s bike were several mechanics from the shop. With them were some of the welders and builders from CJ’s. CJ himself was sitting on his bike glaring at them as they came across the lot.
As they approached, one of the men spoke up. “Now I know that Mr. Taylor has always told us that there has to be peace between the chapters, but I don’t think this is a chapter to chapter problem.”
“No,” said CJ from where he was sitting. “This is more like a man to man—or men to punk who wants to mess with At’s baby girl—problem.”
“You know that’s a very dangerous thing to do,” said a third man holding a couple of tools in his hands, “and when you do dangerous things, bad stuff can happen. A brake retainer could come loose and lock up your back wheel at speed.”
Another man said, “Or a link could loosen on the chain and release while you’re in a curve.”
“Speaking of curves,” said a fourth voice from the back of the group, “I’ve heard that there are a lot of very slippery curves between here and Texas. Why, if something were to come alongside you on one of those curves you might lose control and go flying off into who knows what.”
CJ smiled at him and said, “Do you get our drift, Texas Chapter President, or do I have to spell it out a little more clearly for you?”
Roger stood next to Mary while the men, except for CJ, began to form a circle around them. Mary couldn’t see clearly whether or not any of the men were holding anything in their hands, but even if they weren’t, there were 14 of them plus CJ. Roger didn’t stand a chance.
“Wait just a God-damned minute!” she yelled at them. “You fuckers are going to listen to me or by God, you will see what else I inherited from my father besides my magic touch with engines.”
All of the men stepped back unconsciously. Perhaps it was the cold fury in Mary’s voice. Perhaps it was because they had never, ever before heard her swear or use truly vulgar language. Or perhaps it was because as she stood there glaring at them, she somehow looked very much like a female version of Atticus.
Her voice softened very slightly and she held up her hand, pointing slightly at CJ. “Roger,” she said, “I would like you to meet CJ Walsh, my dad’s business partner. His name is actually John Walsh. The CJ stands for Crazy Jack.”
Her voice went back to full fury. Pulling Roger with her she pushed through the line of men and stood at the front wheel of his bike facing him. “And God-dammit Jack, tonight you are living up to your name.”
While Jack and the men with him were still staring at her in
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