I gazed through the glass wall of windows. The area was crawling with speed walkers who were utilizing their lunch hour for exercise, joggers, and the occasional neon Spandex clad bicyclist. In the distance, the fountains in front of the theatre were spraying water high into the air.

Jess had returned to work. I was attempting to write. Neither of us had fully recovered from the loss of our child. I doubted we ever would. Masking our grief had become second nature.

We spoke to each other in passing, had no interest in sex, and spent the nights cuddling silently until we fell asleep. Something needed to change, but I had no idea how to implement it. Time, I decided, would heal our wounds.

The door swung open, and then closed. Without turning around, I lifted my chin slightly. “Morning, shithead.”

“Mornin’.”

I mentally followed the clicking of his boot heels along the concrete floor. The sound of the refrigerator door being opened and then closed was followed by the sound of the cabinet door doing the same.

“’Bout out of milk.”

“Jess is headed to the store after work.”

Teddy sat down beside me and commenced to devour his cereal.

My desk was positioned directly in front of the window. An eight-foot by three-foot slab of marble, it was more than large enough for the four barstools that were positioned in front of it.

I leaned to the side and gave Teddy a look. “Scoot over a few seats, would you?”

“Was wanting to talk to ya.”

“You don’t have to sit on me to talk to me. Scoot over.”

He spooned the Honey Crisp into his mouth and talked over the mouthful of food. “How much money you got?’

“Fuck, I don’t know. Why?”

“In case you didn’t realize it, spring has sprung. It’s time to ride, dude.”

I returned a narrow-eyed stare. “You forget about the bank picking up my shit?”

He shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Nope.”

“Hard to ride what one doesn’t have.”

“Remember Tater Salad?” he asked.

“That big goon that rents the house from you out west?”

“Yep.”

“I remember him, why?”

“Lost his job a while back. Ten months ago, to be exact.”

“What’s this story got to do with me?”

He lifted the bowl and took a big slurp of milk. Upon lowering it, he grinned. “Owes me ten grand. He’s got a job now, but he’ll never be able to pay me the back rent because he don’t make enough to get ahead.”

To call Teddy a pacifist was giving him tremendous credit. He had a horrific temper, but he never acted on it. He, no differently than the other men in the club, seemed to rely on me to act as their mouthpiece.

“You need help kicking him out?”

He shook his head. “I’m gonna give him an option.” He lifted the bowl to his mouth, finished the milk, and then set it aside. “You’re going to give him an option.”

“Pay or get out?”

“Nope.”

“Jesus, Teddy. What? You gonna whore his wife out?”

“He’s got a Heritage Softail. You’re going out there with me. We’re taking the bike. I’ll call it even. You give me five grand for it. I’ll call the rest a loss. I’ll never see it, anyway.”

I jumped from my stool, knocking it over in the process. “Five grand for a Heritage? Does it run?”

He nodded. “Like a scalded dog. He never rides it. Bought it new.”

“I’ll give you five for it,” I said. “Right now.”

He wiped the milk from his beard and then looked at his hand. “When you want to go out there?”

“When does he get off work?”

“Three.”

“Let’s be there when he gets home.”

He grinned. “This is gonna be fun to watch.”

“Why’s that?”

“You ain’t seen him in five years. He’s about Big O’s size. A little shorter though.”

I shrugged. “He gets between me and that Heritage, and I’ll be on him like shit on a wheel.”

That afternoon, we waited with Tater Salad’s wife in the garage while he was on his way home from work. An oversized four-wheel-drive truck pulled into the driveway and came to a stop. When the door opened, a two-hundred-and-twenty-pound man with a shaved head spilled out of the opening.

He was wearing slacks and a dress shirt, but it did little to hide the bulging biceps that were beneath the powder blue cotton fabric.

After giving me a lingering glance, he shifted his eyes to Teddy. “What’s going on, Teddy?”

“Here about that money you owe me,” Teddy said.

He gestured toward me. “What’s he here for?”

Teddy shrugged.

“I’m going to cut to the chase,” I said. “You owe my man Teddy ten grand. You don’t have it. He needs it. Under Kansas law, he could evict you. He doesn’t want to. But he needs that money to start a construction job that starts Monday. It’s Thursday. In my opinion, you have one option.”

I nodded toward the Harley that was parked beside the weight training equipment. “Go get the title to that bike, sign it on the back, and hand it to him. I’ll ride the bike out of here, and you’ll be paid in full.”

He looked me up and down. “What if I say no?”

His teenage daughter walked into the garage. “Hi dad.”

“Go back inside, Terra.”

“What’s going on?”

“Go inside. I’ll come inside here in a minute.”

Tater’s wife escorted Terra inside the house. I looked at him and raised my brows. “If you refuse, you, your wife, and that daughter of yours will be out in the street trying to decide what to do with all your belongings. A week or so later, you’ll be hit with a lawsuit. Attorney’s fees will be about a grand on top of the ten you owe Teddy, and then you’ll have to pay his attorney’s fees as well. All told, you’ll be twelve grand out of pocket and homeless.”

He looked at the Harley. “Shit. I’ve had that bike ten years. It’s part of the family.”

“I know plenty about that,” I said. “My chopper got repossessed a little over a year ago. No differently than you, I was jobless, and couldn’t pay for it. Getting that thing taken from me was the best thing that ever happened to me. A turning point in my life if there ever was one. It caused me to take a long hard look at me and what was wrong in my life.”

“I’m guessing you’re going to end up with it, then. Is that right?”

I nodded. “I’m paying him for it. Like I said, Teddy needs that money.”

He folded his arms over his chest. His gaze fell to the driveway. He was almost there, he simply needed a nudge.

“I plan on turning it into a show bike. Fishtail exhaust, air ride suspension, chrome spoked wheels, black paint, and as much chrome as Harley will sell me for it. I’ll text you pics as it’s coming along.” I pulled the contract I’d drafted from my back pocket. “I’ll just need you to sign this, and then Teddy will sign it. It shows you’re caught up one hundred percent. It’ll be a good feeling to get that debt off your shoulders, won’t it?”

He took the sheet of paper and opened it. After reading it, he looked up. “Show bike, huh?”

“Slice at that custom shop downtown will do the paintwork. Silver and purple hand-painted old-school stripes. Stretched fenders. Hand-stitched solo seat. Big ape-hanger handlebars. I’m planning on going Cholo-style. Like the bikes out in SoCal.”

He grinned. “That’d be badass.”

“Need a pen?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Got one in the truck.”

With some reluctance, he signed the contract, and then produced the motorcycle’s title. After he handed me the keys, I looked at Teddy.

“Jess said I couldn’t drive my car, right?”

“Yep.”

I grinned. “She never said I couldn’t ride a bike.”

Tater Salad looked at Teddy. “What’s he talking about.”

“Fucker ain’t got a driver’s license. Told his Ol’ Lady he wouldn’t drive his car until he got it resolved. Never said nothing about a bike, though.”

Tater looked at me. “Better take it slow. Cops in this town are sons-of-bitches.”

I lifted my leg over the rear fender, lowered myself into the seat, and started the engine. After agreeing to leave the bike at Teddy’s house, I rode it there and parked it.

When he opened the garage door, my jaw hit the floor. My one-of-a-kind BMW was sitting in his garage.

“What the fuck?” I gasped.

“Forgot to tell you,” he said with a low laugh. “Bought it from the bank at auction. Thought I’d keep it in the family.”

I looked the car over. Short of being covered in dust, it looked just the way it did on the day they picked it up.

“It’s dirty,” I said.

“Never drive it. Probably never will. I’ll just keep it. You can come visit it any time you want.”

I shook my head. “Love ya, Brother.”

He stroked his beard and nodded toward the motorcycle. “When you telling Jess about this?”

“When it’s done,” I said.

“You seriously going to do all that shit to it?”

“Starting tomorrow.”

My means of recovery from the loss we’d suffered was sitting in Teddy’s garage. I was sure of it. The ten-minute ride to his house was hint enough to provide me with hope. Jess had never been on a motorcycle before, but I had my suspicions that she’d enjoy it.

In a few weeks, I intended to find out.

There was one thing I had to take care of first.