“Aww.” She leaned her head back on my chest and looked up at me again. “Are you associating soup with being sick now?”
“Probably.” I turned us out of the hospital lot and headed down the main road leading through the center of town. “It just doesn’t sound appealing.”
“No soup, then,” she agreed, planting her hands on my fuel tank. “But something hot and hearty would be good in this weather.”
The ride was slow, with no particular destination in mind as we checked out the bustling center of Four Corners. It had stopped snowing already and road crews were already raking the slushy snow-and-mud mix off the sidewalks.
“Oh, shepherd’s pie!” Mari pointed at a sandwich board outside of a squat brick building. “How does that sound?”
“What is that? I’ve never had it,” I admitted.
“Oh, it’s amazing!” She was already wriggling in my seat, eager to get off. Ugh, don’t think about getting off. “It’s a savory pie with a meat filling and mashed potatoes on top. It’s so good, Shadow. You’ll love it.”
“Sounds good. I’ll try it.”
I maneuvered the bike close to the building and looked for a place to park. There didn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to vehicle parking yet, so we found an alley on the next block where a few scooters and motorbikes sat and decided to take our chances. Crime was supposed to be low within Four Corners, due to the governor’s strict entry requirements. My Harley would be tempting to a thief, but also too big to steal without alerting me in the next building.
Freyja jumped out from under my hoodie and Mari’s hand slipped into mine once we got off the bike. I did my best to walk normally while my heart went crazy. She appeared to have no second thoughts about being affectionate with me in public.
Like I was one of her men.
That thought was almost as staggering as her being affectionate with me at all.
“I like your hoodie,” she said, bringing the fabric over her nose. “It smells like you.”
I looked at her, surprised again. “That’s a good thing?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “I might steal it, so it feels like I’m wrapped up in you when you’re not around.”
“You can have it, then.” I took my gloves off and stuck them in my cut pocket so I could feel her hand better as I held it. “But what if I want to steal something of yours?”
She gave me a playful look. “You already have my cat.”
“That’s true,” I chuckled, looking ahead to where Freyja waited for us at the end of the alley. “She’s lovely, but a poor imitation of you.”
“I could say the same for your hoodie.”
No words came to me in response to that, so I just rubbed my thumb along the back of her hand. She returned the gesture, squeezing around my fingers lightly.
We turned the corner and walked into the restaurant where the shepherd’s pie was advertised. It was a simple, rectangular building with a ceiling almost too low for my head. The tables and chairs were obviously scavenged from other places, spread out with few matching pieces in the dining area. The original counter had been ripped out, but there was a window in the far wall looking into the kitchen. A hand-drawn sign was taped next to the window that read ‘Order Here’.
There was plenty of room to sit, with only a few tables occupied. Customers paid little attention to us, keeping their conversations low over their soups and sandwiches. Two chefs cooked over stoves in the kitchen, the closest one looking up and nodding at us as we stepped inside.
“Just holler when you’re ready,” the chef yelled before turning back to his stove.
He was a stout guy, red-faced with strawberry blond hair. The collar of his chef’s jacket was turned up, which was curious, considering the sweltering heat from the stoves. He wiped sweat from his brow before grabbing the handle of a frying pan to sauté his dish. The movement showed a peek of a tattoo on his neck—two straight lines intersecting at the ends—before he readjusted his collar to hide it.
“I hope I have enough to trade for food.” Mari dug through her pants pockets. “I always carry a few pills on me but it’s not always—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said with a light touch to her elbow. “I’ll get us lunch.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind—”
“I got it, really. Why don’t you find us a place to sit?”
“‘Kay.” She nearly had to jump to kiss my cheek before meandering through the eclectic collection of tables.
I went up to the window, catching the eye of the red-faced chef. He paused his chopping to grab a notepad and a pen.
“What can I get ya?” He tilted his head, making a clear effort to hide his neck tattoo.
“Two shepherd’s pies,” I said. “Please,” I added.
He scribbled it down. “Any sides? Drinks?”
Mari didn’t ask for anything else, but I ordered teas for us both.
“Mmkay.” The chef looked at me pointedly. “How you payin’?”
I steeled myself with a breath. This could go horribly wrong, but I couldn’t continue to be fearful of human interaction. It was always a risk, but lately it felt just terrifying rather than suicidal.
“You looking to get that covered up?” I asked in a low voice.
The chef’s eyes widened, his hand immediately clapping to his neck. “What?”
“That neck tattoo you’re hiding. You want it covered so you don’t have to keep wearing a jacket in a sweltering hot kitchen?”
His hand lowered slowly, but he still looked uneasy. “So, what, you know a guy?”
“You’re looking at him,” I said. “I’m a tattoo artist. I’ll cover that up for you, and do any other work you’d like.”
“You will, huh?” He looked me over, taking in my cut and patches. “You with them bikers that just rode in?”
“That’s us, yeah,” I said. “We’re not here for trouble. Just looking for a home like everyone else.”
“Stickin’ around then?”
“For the time being, yes.”
“All right.” He rubbed his jaw, nodding agreeably. “Yeah, okay. I’ll trade ya grub for ink.”
“Good. I’m at the B&B in the northwest part of town. Come by when you’re ready and ask for Shadow.”
“Right on, man.” He ripped my order off of the notepad and stabbed it onto a receipt spindle. “I’ll grab your shepherd’s pies. They just came out of the oven.”
“Thanks.”
I scanned the dining room as I waited, spotting Mari at a table next to a window looking out onto the street. A woman with two small children walked by on the sidewalk, and Mari waved to the little girl holding her mother’s hand.
“Two shepherd’s pies.” The mismatched ceramic bowls clattered on the serving window. “I’ll bring your teas out in a sec. And hey, man…”
“Yeah?” I grabbed our food, mouth already watering at the sight of the savory filling and lightly browned mashed potatoes.
“This thing?” The chef pulled down his collar to show me the full tattoo. “I was a dumbfuck when I was young, okay? I don’t subscribe to any of that shit—”