Page 43 of Thug

She rolled her eyes and walked away. After taking a few minutes to thank each person before they left, she began cleaning the tables of clutter.

Without thinking, I stood up and helped her. As I tossed an armload of trash in the garbage can, she threw me a rag soaked in disinfectant.

“One food you can’t live without?” I asked while wiping a table.

“Easy.” She looked up. “Tacos.”

I was so hungry I could eat a horse. “Tacos sound good. I haven’t eaten since noon.”

“Why not?”

“We rushed to the airport, thinking security was going to take a few hours and it didn’t. We sat in the fucking terminal for two hours.”

“Why didn’t you get something to eat when you were in the terminal?”

“I don’t eat food that sits under a lightbulb.”

She laughed. “Neither do I.”

I thought I was the only one with such idiosyncrasies. “Oh, really?”

She crossed her heart with her index finger. “I swear.”

“Want to go grab some tacos?” I asked. “There’s a great place by the clubhouse. They’re open until two am.”

She smiled. “I’d love to.”

We finished cleaning the seating area and met behind the bar at the same time. I raised my cleaning rag. “Where do you want this?”

She extended her hand. “I’ll take it.”

“Want to follow me?” I asked.

“Where?”

“I thought we were getting tacos?”

“Actually.” She draped the rags over the side of the sink. “I’d like to ride on the back of your bike.”

I laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “Go ahead. I’ll just make something when I get home. I’ve got plenty of time.”

I gave her a shitty look. “You’re not going to go?”

“Not unless you let me ride on the back of your bike,” she said. “I know it’s a hardtail, but it’s got a one-up seat.”

“Fuck it,” I said. “I’ll go alone.”

I cleared the edge of the bar and was two steps toward the door when she gave protest.

“Seriously?” she asked, her tone laced with aggravation. “You’re just going to go? Without me?”

I shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re not going to let me ride on your bike?”

“Nobody rides on my bike.”