Page 44 of Nuts

Bama took a bite of lasagna and then raised his index finger. “You cook just like your mother, God rest her soul. That woman could rustle up a meal, let me tell you. Now, back to the bar.”

He brushed his beard with the web of his hand and leaned forward. “The damned thing was a double barrel, and it was sawed off to about eight inches. If he would have pulled the trigger, it would have got every one of us. So, this son-of-a-bitch was in the door of the bar waving this thing like he couldn’t decide who to shoot. Before he could make up his pickled mind, Ol’ Snake decided for him.”

“What happened?”

“Just in case you didn’t know, Ol’ Snake stood about six-eight.” He looked at me, and then at her. “You met Pee Bee yet?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know who that is.”

“He’s the Sergeant-at-Arms for the FFMC. When you meet him, he’s your Ol’ Man’s size. When Snake walked through a door, he darkened it completely. Intimidating is an understatement.”

She smiled.

Bama leaned forward and locked eyes with her. “This wannabe Outlaw prospect is waving the shotgun, and the bar is just as quiet as a Sunday congregation. Snake starts walking through the crowd like he’s got an appointment somewhere. He’d been in the back, playing pool. But, once there was a threat, he had to be in the middle of it. It’s just who he was.”

He leaned back and shook his head.

“What happened?”

“Snake walked through the crowd, and right up to that kid. Two feet in front of him. Looked him right in the eyes and said, pull the trigger, you gutless little cocksucker. Then he said, after you do, this entire bar’s gonna stomp you to death in the street.”

Smudge covered her mouth with her hand. “Holy cow.”

Bama chuckled as if the event had happened yesterday. “Your Ol’ Man said hand me the gun. The kid lowered it and handed it to him.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Then did you guys beat him up?”

“That wasn’t how Snake did things,” he said. “He took the shotgun, and nodded toward the street. Go get on your scoot and get the fuck out of here. Tell your patch I let you live.”

“He let him go?”

He nodded. “Let him go and gave the fist.”

“The fist?”

“It was his trademark gesture. He gave it every time something happened that he was proud of. Something good. Every time he made a difference. He’d clench his fist and rise it to the sky. Weird, if you ask me. But, he did it all the time.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said. “But he let the guy go. That’s kind of cool.”

Bama shrugged and reached for his fork. “At the time, there wasn’t a war. Least not yet. And, your Ol’ Man didn’t want there to be one. He was as mean as a snake. Hell, that’s how he got his name. But, he wasn’t a violent man when he didn’t need to be. More than anything, the man wanted to ride. It was in his blood.”

“My mother said he loved to ride.”

“I’ll tell you how much he loved it.” He chuckled a light laugh. “We all rode to some Vietnamese joint one day. Your Ol’ Man wanted a bowl of fucking noodles. This little Vietnamese shit-hole in Mission Beach served us the noodles, and your Ol’ Man took one bite and shook his head. This tastes like shit, he said. Let’s go get a real bowl of noodles. I wasn’t too excited about it, and I asked where. He looked at me and said, Wichita. I looked back at him and said, Kansas? He nodded his head, looked at the six of us and said, you fellas up for a ride?”

“Holy cow,” Smudge gasped. “Did you ride to Kansas?”

“Right then and there. 1,300 miles one way, if I remember correctly.”

“You rode to Kansas for a bowl of noodles?”

“Took us two 12-hour days to get there.” He let out a laugh. “Ain’t much on dink food, but that was one hell of a good bowl of noodles.”

Smudge grinned. “I like that story.”

Bama’s eyes fell to the floor, and then he looked up. “You know what? I just thought of something. You had an aunt and uncle out there. Aunt died if I remember right. She would have been your mom’s sister. You still have an uncle, it’s just…”

Her eyes shot wide. “Just what?”