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“Yes, it has. Grab a seat and have a beer with me,” I say, tipping my beer in his direction.
“I'll have to take a rain check on that,” he replies. “I’m on my way to Sara’s.”
“You son of a bitch, you're still with her?” I ask with a laugh.
“Yeah, sure am. Well some days anyway,” he says with a wicked grin.
“Well, I'm at the parents’ house for about another week, hit me up.”
He pauses for a moment and sits down next to me. “I’ll do you one better.”
He slides a business card out of his pocket and sets it on the bar. “You ever heard of these guys?”
I read the card. ‘Brotherhood Bar and Billiards’ it says in dark blue writing.
“No, new place in town?” I offer, hoping it’s better than the dingy bar I’m sitting in.
“Memphis. And it’s not just a bar, if you know what I mean. It’s a true brotherhood, you know? A place to go when things get rough. Not to say we don’t rough some shit up too. You got your brother’s old bike laying around?”
The Harley—damn thing was a classic. Of course my parents had kept it; it was worth something, not to mention Jackson would have died for that bike. “Sure. Why?”
“You gotta ride to be asked in. Actually, that’s just the beginning of the list of things you gotta do. Joining takes time, hell, I’ve been doing it a year.”
“Is there going to be hazing and some shit? I’ve done that enough.”
“Ha,” he laughs. “It’s not like that. But you know, you gotta earn your spot to run with these guys.”
“What’s this about? This sounds like y’all do some crazy illegal shit or something.”
“Like what you saw over there was any worse? I’m just saying, man, these guys? They’ll get you. Think about it.”
He gets up from the stool and I pull the card off the bar and slip it in my pocket. “I will,” I say as he heads towards the door.
I smile and shake my head. I can’t believe he’s still with Sara and in some crazy motorcycle gang. The wild one has finally been tamed. Or at least caged. I finish my beer and glance at the clock. I pay my bill, and instead of heading back to my parents’, I grab a motel room. It's only about a quarter mile, so I figure I'll just walk and let the cool air sober me up a bit. Wouldn’t it be some shit for the rumor mill if the newly returned home vet got a DUI? I won’t give the town gossipers the satisfaction.
The evening air is cool and crisp and sobers me up almost instantly. As I’m walking, I hear the roar of motorcycles. That damn card is burning a hole in my pocket. Part of me wants to call Shawn and see what he says about me prospecting, the other part of me just wants to get out of this tiny little town and move on with my life. I get to the motel and check in. The place is pretty shitty, only one of two places to stay around here. Just as I’m about to settle in, my mom’s face pops up on my phone, and I swipe right to answer it. I should have called. I forget there’s people here who want to know where I am. That I’m safe.
Shit, I’m a terrible son.
“Hey, son. I was just checking on you.” I walk through the door of my motel room and sit on the edge of the hard bed.
“I’m good, Mom. I just walked through the door at the motel. I decided to get a room in town tonight instead of driving back home.”
“You’re turning in early, sweetheart,” she says incredulously. I snicker at the tone she’s using.
“Mom, I’m not a teenager anymore. Besides, my body is still conditioned to sleep for short periods of time. When I’m tired now, I sleep. It’s simple,” I remind her.
She clears her throat and then continues. “I'm so proud of you, son.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I reply, unsure of what else to say.
“I love you, Jett. Goodnight.”
I head across the room to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. When did I become this person? With stubble on my cheeks and circles under my eyes. Hell. That’s where it happened, even if I’m not sure when.
I walk back into the bedroom and sit down on the squeaky bed. Pulling the card from my pocket, I dial the number on the thick paper.
A gruff voice answers. It’s loud in the background, and I can barely hear him. “Hello?”
