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r eyed Ghost, running a hand slowly over his beard, his white teeth flashing. “I’m thinking somebody did. And it didn’t go too well.”
Shades almost choked on his coffee, his wide eyes flashing to Ghost. “That true, bro? You hit that?”
Ghost glared at them both, but finally came clean, nodding once.
“Fucking-A, man,” Hammer said with a grin before he turned and shouted across to another table. “You owe me ten bucks, Griz!”
Griz glanced over, pulling a red plastic stir-stick from his mouth that he’d been chewing on. “No way! Are you shittin’ me?”
Hammer grinned at Shades as he raised his hand. “High-five, bro.”
Ghost stared in stunned disbelief as they slapped palms, then he glared at Shades. “You both bet on this shit? Hammer, I’m not surprised. But, you?”
Shades just grinned. “Easiest ten bucks I ever made.”
Griz ambled over to their booth and leaned his palms on the table, his eyes on Ghost. “Dude,” he shook his head. “You let me down, man.”
Shades lifted his hand palm up, two fingers waggling. “Pay up, Griz.”
Griz straightened, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and glared at Ghost as he pulled two tens out and slapped them on the table. “Shoulda known Romeo, here, couldn’t keep it in his pants.”
Just then Jessie walked up, and Ghost straightened in his seat, running his hand over his mouth. Fucking hell.
Griz glared at her. “You just cost me twenty bucks, sweet cheeks.” And then he strolled back to his table.
“What was that about?” she asked, eyeing the money.
“Nothing,” Ghost snapped rising from his seat and grabbing her by the upper arm to turn her toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“Hey, your bill,” Hammer said.
Ghost turned his head, not stopping. “You can pick up this one, Mr. Moneybags.”
“Fucking hell.”
Once they were back at the Saint Louis clubhouse, the different chapters took a few moments to say goodbye to each other. At each stop along the way the line of bikes got shorter as the various chapters broke off. And now some were splitting off toward Memphis, some toward Louisiana.
They posed to take a photo. A bunch of leather clad men with beards and dark shades all grinning at the camera. And Jessie noticed they all held their arms crossed over their chests, five fingers extended on one hand and four on the other. She frowned, wondering what that meant. She’d seen the number fifty-four up on the wall here and also at the clubhouse in Omaha, now that she thought about it. What was up with that?
After they were finished and said their goodbyes, pounding each other’s backs the way men do, Jessie asked Ghost about it.
“Why did everyone hold up nine fingers like that?”
Ghost grinned. “Not nine. Five and four.”
She shook her head. “Okay, so five and four then, what does that mean?”
“It means Evil Dead…E is the fifth letter in the alphabet and D is the fourth. So, five, four or fifty-four.”
“Oh, I see.”
“You ready, pretty girl?”
She grinned at his endearment. Apparently his earlier surly mood had shifted back to his usual happy self. “I’m ready. Am I on the back of your bike today?”
His eyes searched hers, his smile fading and his face turning serious. “That where you want to be?”
She nodded, mesmerized by the way he looked at her, like there wasn’t anyone else around. “Yes.”
