Page 43 of Nuts

“Holy cow. Really?”

He raised his index finger. After pulling his phone from his vest, he made a call.

“Nothing much. Hey, I got one for ya. You’ll never guess who I’m having dinner with. No. No. Just hold on.”

He looked at me, smiled, and then began to pace the floor. “Billy The Snake Schreiber’s daughter. Yep. Nope. Twenty-one. Hey, brother. Can you do me a solid? Yeah. She wants to know if you’ve got any stories to tell her about her Ol’ Man.”

He glanced at me and gave the thumbs up. “Right now, if you’re not busy. Oh, one other thing. You eat yet?”

He gave me another thumbs up. “Come hungry. See you in a few.”

“Well,” he said. “We better eat while we can. When Bama gets here, he’ll eat whatever’s left.”

My heart was racing. I was way too excited to eat, but I sat down nonetheless. Attempting to hide my excitement, and probably failing miserably, I looked up from picking at my food.

“So, he knew him? This Bama guy? Like knew him?”

“Bama’s been with the red and white for 30 years. Yeah, he knew your Ol’ Man.”

My mouth curled into a smile.

While Percy ate, I poked and picked at my food. I was far too nervous – and way too excited – to eat. After a few minutes, I realized I was simply staring at the wall behind Percy. When he stood from his seat, I came out of my daze.

“Thank you for calling him,” I said.

“Least I could do. Thanks for cooking dinner.”

“Least I could do,” I said mockingly.

“I’m going to get another plate before he gets here.”

“There’s plenty,” I said with a smile. “Help yourself.”

As he filled his plate, he went on and on about how it was the best Italian food he’d ever eaten. According to him, he’d eaten Italian food from one end of the United States to the other.

All the emotion I was feeling came to a head. A lone tear welled in the corner of my eye, and then escaped.

I wiped it from my cheek and smiled as Percy turned around.

In a matter of days, I’d gone from being beaten by my stepfather to being praised by my best friend.

My life had never been so good.

Chapter Sixteen

P-Nut

Bama’s snow-white hair was hidden by the bandana he wore. The shape of the full beard that he’d grown to his chest gave indication to the importance he placed on his appearance. He was a biker through and through, but he wasn’t a sloppy one.

He’d ridden with the Angels for three decades. The war between the Angels and the Outlaws over the state of California had caused riots, murders, bombings, and executions.

And he’d lived to see it all.

He was a legend himself, but nothing like the father of the girl who sat across from him. With wide eyes and an open mouth, Smudge sat and listened intently as Bama explained who her father was.

“You could have heard a pin drop,” he said. “That’s how quiet it was.”

“What about the guy with the shotgun?” she asked.