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“Yeah, right. So – what am I going to find if I Google you?”
“No Speedo shots, that’s for damn sure.”
“Aww, and here I was looking forward to you in a banana hammock.”
“Gonna have to disappoint you on that one.”
“So what would I find?”
“Owner of Pollari’s Body Shop.”
“Already got that from the waitresses.”
He gave me a thin smile. “Divorced, no kids.”
“Ah. Amicable?”
“Hell no,” he chuckled. “When is it ever?”
“Sometimes.”
“In fairytales, maybe. What about you?”
“No kids, never married.”
“Now, a beautiful woman like you, why’s that?”
“We’ll get to me soon enough. What about the rest?”
“The rest of what?”
“What else would I find on Google? For instance, President of the Midnight Riders.”
“We don’t put the club roster on the internet.”
“Well, you know, everything eventually winds up on the internet anyway.”
He nodded and sipped his scotch. “Like criminal records.”
I watched him warily. “I guess.”
“Couple of stints in county. Three years in Chino for aggravated assault.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Aren’t you gonna ask why?” he said.
“I figure you’ll tell me if you want to.”
“Let’s just say that the Midnight Riders weren’t always aboveboard. When I patched in at 21, it was… a different organization.”
“What changed?”
“I did.” He stared off into the darkness. “Saw a lot of bad shit over the years. A lot of men closer to me than my own brothers… saw ‘em wind up in jail for life. Or worse, saw ‘em die. Liquor store parking lots, deserted stretches of road… always a bullet or knife in their back.”
I just kept quiet and watched him.
“Shit like that changes you. Makes you question whether it’s all worth it. I decided it wasn’t.”
