“Movies, huh?” After exhaling, he pushed off the SUV, then backed away to make room for Scorch. Diesel shook his head, chuckling. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.” He opened the back door and got in.
With wide eyes, I stared at him sitting in the back with me.
Not even looking at me, he growled, “Don’t you ever tell anyone about this shit.”
Honored, my throat tightened. “Won’t tell a soul.”
Click! Scorch’s cell phone snapped a pic.
“Motherfucker,” complained Diesel.
Examining his cell, Scorch laughed while wiping his hand down his barely maintained beard, like he was trying to cover up his mockery. “Oh yeah, this is going to get me out of a hot spot when needed.”
Diesel glared at me. “You happy now?”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled.
Back on the road, chowing down on the few snacks I was able to grab at the station, I sat next to the President of the Redemption Ryders. His broad shoulders took up the space between us. His ringed fingers curled into relaxed fists. On the top of his right hand, a tattoo read Will Find You in beautiful cursive script.
I had never noticed it before. I guess there were many things I had yet to notice about the man. With a side-eye glance at him, I managed to mumble, “The tattoo, what does it mean?”
His left hand rubbed the tat while he stared out his window with a look of lost remembrance on his face. His reply was brief and gruff. “A promise.”
Diesel didn’t disclose further, so I didn’t ask what that promise meant or whether he had kept it. I stayed quiet and opened a bag of my favorite type of Doritos—Cool Ranch because I just loved ranch—which brought back memories of Delilah’s surprise seventeenth birthday party…
I had got a hearty helping of a macaroni salad because it looked like the cheap crap you could make from a box. Delilah usually made everything from scratch, but as it was a surprise for her, Delilah hadn’t made it. I hadn’t had this kind, the kind my mama made, in forever. Taking a huge bite, and loving the burst of artificial ranch dressing on my tongue, I quickly dug my fork in the pile for another bite. That’s when I realized there were orange slivers in the salad. Carrots. I once ate carrots in front of the Wards and ended up in an Emergency Walk-In Clinic. Mr. Ward had felt I was having an allergic reaction when my face and neck went all red. I hadn’t even remembered eating them.
This time, just the color of the carrot had my mind fading to a time when I was younger. I don’t know how old I was, but I was in a stranger’s home.
On my hands and knees, my heart was pounding. For some reason, I was so afraid. There was a man there with a package of carrots. I couldn’t see him behind me, but his large hand pulled one from the package as he said, “They help test to see if you’re clean and get you ready for—”
The plate full of Delilah’s surprise birthday meal was suddenly swiped from my lap and onto the grass in her backyard. Delilah dropped to her knees in front of me, grabbing my hands. “Kenny, did you eat the macaroni salad?”
I wanted to tell her I didn’t think I was allergic to carrots like the Walk-In doctor had claimed, but my mouth wouldn’t work. I was now realizing that I had been misdiagnosed. Due to the shock of the memory, I was dazed, and my blood pressure was sky high, causing my flushed appearance.
With a shuttering breath, the memories slipped away, and closing the bag of Doritos, I quietly asked, “Diesel, have you by chance done any research on what Delilah thinks I have?”
It took him a minute to reply, but he finally answered, “I did.”
When he didn’t share more, I explained, “You took my cell. I have no way of researching it myself.”
He inhaled… and exhaled… “The articles I read claimed that a severely traumatic event can cause it. Like, your brain kind of goes on the fritz to protect your—” he stopped.
“My what?”
He cracked his window before lighting a cigarette. After a big ol’ puff, he told me, “Scientists would probably say to protect your mind.” He took another large inhale of smoke, then blew it out the cracked window. “I’d say the memory loss is to protect your soul, kid. Some shit is just too much. Feel me?”
The memory of the man and the carrots had my stomach turning. It felt distant, like not a true memory, yet so close it may have happened yesterday. “Yeah. I think you may be right.” Staring at the pack of Camels, his cigarette of choice that seemed to calm him, I asked, “Can I have one?”
Almost thankful for the change of subject, he teased, “They’ll kill ya, kid.”
I smarted off, “Who’s the dumbass now?”
The two other men in the SUV roared through uncontrollable laughter.
I was good as dead anyhow, so what was the difference? Mouthing off to a biker, nor a cancer stick could change that fact.
Scorch laughed. “Art, please give that kid a high-five. Balls. He has balls!”
Diesel’s nostrils flared. “Oh yeah? Think the kid’s got what it takes?” He handed me a cigarette and a lighter. “Have at it.”
Not really sure how, I put the end in my mouth and lit the tip while inhaling…
Then I coughed my ass off.
More laughter, now from all three men, almost burst my eardrums.
Art reached around his seat and took the poison. “Give me that shit before you bust a lung with your gagging.” He cracked his window and took a drag.
As I took a much-needed swig of red Gatorade, Diesel asked, “You done fuckin’ around? I’d like you to know what’s up.” I smiled, feeling Gatorade dripping from the crease of my mouth. “The fuck?”
Diesel tossed me a napkin, but I was already wiping my mouth with my sweatshirt sleeve. “Ready.”
Diesel rolled his eyes. “We’ll see about that.” He explained a few key facts about my next days to come. “The Steel Stallions is a solid club; mean as hell, but also extremely loyal. I will vouch for you until a member decides to stand up for you.” My scrunched face must have spoken of my confusion because Diesel explained, “It’s a protection thing. Even though I’m not a Stallion, I’m connected to this club in other ways. Not gettin’ into all that el shit-o with you right now, but just know my name and rank carries weight.”
Even with eyes straight forward and focused on the road, I could feel the weight of Scorch’s comment when he mumbled, “And then some.”
Diesel shrugged, like ‘it is what it is’ then told me, “My point is, I’m not handing you over to a club that can’t handle all you got kickin’. They can cover a trail and keep it that way. I’m personally paying for your new identity.”
My head jerked back into the headrest. “W-What?”
“Sorry, kid. Has to be done.” Watching me grab my stomach, his gravelly voice softened, “Try to do this for Delilah. Ya understand?”
I so understood. “I did my best to take care of her. I swear it. And I’ll keep trying.”
Even the small details were something I had always tried to do for Delilah. Like, since she had been so kind as to share her car with me after I moved into her home, I had driven her to school every day and walked her to every class. At the end of the day, I would happily drive her home. In return, she would cook me dinner, and her dad and brother, of course.