Levi was almost out the door of the clubhouse when Grant stopped him. “Hey, Cheney is looking for you.”

Levi groaned. “What does he want?”

Grant sighed. “He has a job for us.”

“He gave me the rest of this month off. The only reason I’m here today is because I brought Dad’s bike over to the shop for Mickey to take a look at it and see if he can put it back together.” That wasn’t the complete truth, but Levi wasn’t ready to talk about his suspicions yet, even to Grant.

“Yeah, I know. He said to tell you he’s sorry, but he needs you. You didn’t get his text?”

Levi pulled out his phone and looked at it. There were at least a dozen unread text messages. He knew that none of them were from Krissy, so he hadn’t cared to check them. He pulled up the most recent one from Cheney. It was sent that morning and it said, “Get ahold of me ASAP. I need to call you in for this one job if you’re up for it.” He rolled his eyes. Cheney didn’t make requests, he gave orders. He didn’t give a shit if Levi was “up to it” or not, and Levi knew it. “Where is he?” he asked Grant.

“In the office. He sent me to find you.”

“Let’s get it over with then.” Levi and Grant made their way over to the office and knocked on the door.

“Yeah!” was Cheney’s brusque reply. Levi opened the door and he and Grant went inside, closing it behind them. Cheney and their V.P., Jackie, were sitting at the table. “There you are,” he said when he saw Levi. “Have a seat.” Levi and Grant sat down and with an overly sympathetic look he said, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Levi said. “Your message said you needed me for a job?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry to pull you off your leave, but we’re spread a little thin lately. I need you and Grant to go out to this house over on the West side and evict a bunch of squatters.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “You want us to evict people out of a house? Can I ask why?”

“Our cooks will be there to set up later tonight and I don’t want them to have to deal with a bunch of homeless addicts before they can get started.”

Levi used every muscle in his body to try to hold back his next question, but it didn’t work. “Even after all this club went through because of Spider…we’re still going to cook that shit?”

He saw the tightening of Cheney’s jaw. Jackie didn’t even try to hide his annoyance; it was written all over his face. He said, “This club needs funds to clean up the mess Spider left behind, and fast. The cooks can have a batch ready by day after tomorrow and we can have it distributed by the end of the week. It’s the fastest way for us to get back on our feet.”

Levi opened his mouth again and Jackie said, “If I were you, boy, I wouldn’t follow in my old man’s footsteps. I’d keep my mouth shut and do what I was told.”

Levi was on his feet in a second. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? My father was a respected member of this club. Is there something you’re not telling me, Jackie?”

“Calm down,” Cheney said. “Jackie didn’t mean any disrespect to your dad, did you, Jackie?”

“No,” the V.P. said with a sigh. “I just meant that you’re part of this club and that means you do what needs to be done. You don’t get to pick and choose what you want to do.”

Levi had his fists clenched at his sides. He felt Grant’s hand on his shoulder. He knew that if he did what he wanted so badly to do at that moment, Cheney would make sure he was sorry. As bad as he hated to admit Jackie was right, he was still a member of the Defenders and with Mickey helping him look into what went wrong with his dad’s bike, he had too much on his plate to approach changing clubs right then. “Fine,” he said at last. “Text me the address and I’ll get on it.”

“Good,” Cheney said. “Make sure they understand that it will be hazardous to their health if they refuse to leave, or they come back.”

“Got it,” Levi said. “Is that all?”

“Sure.” Levi nodded at his president and turned to go. He was almost to the door when Cheney said, “Oh, how’s the bike looking? Mickey said he wasn’t sure there was any chance of putting it back together.”

Levi turned back toward him. “You talked to Mickey?”

“Yeah, when I was looking for you. Any luck salvaging it?”

“No,” Levi said. “It looks like we’ll have to just pull off what’s still usable and scrap the rest.”

“Damn,” Cheney said, “I know what that bike meant to your dad. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Levi mumbled before turning and walking out. He was taking long strides and almost to the door again when Grant caught up to him.

“You know, I could probably handle kicking out a few junkies on my own if you’re not up to it.”

Levi pushed through the front door and out into the fresh air. It was hot and humid, but nowhere near as stuffy as it was in the office of that clubhouse. “It’s okay,” he told Grant just as he felt his phone vibrate. He looked at it and Grant looked at his at the same time. It was the address that Cheney had just texted them. With a sigh Levi said, “I guess we’ll go now.”

* * *

Zoe got off the bus a few blocks away from the Pancake House. Her nana knew one of the waitresses that worked there. She was an older lady and she’d worked there for almost twenty years. Nana had told her to give her application directly to Doris and Doris would put in a good word for her when she gave it to her boss. Zoe would rather do it on her own, but she was being realistic. She hadn’t worked a real job since she was a teenager and worked part-time at the Waffle House. Without references and a job history, a connection was going to be her only hope. She had taken the “allowance” her grandfather left on the counter for her that afternoon because she needed money for the bus and a decent blouse to wear on her job hunt, but she couldn’t stand the thought of doing that every day. It would only make things more awkward between them, if that was possible.

As she walked toward the restaurant, she had to wonder if it was a good idea for her to take a job in this neighborhood. It was a place she was overly familiar with, one where she’d spent a lot of her time on the streets. There was a group of homeless people that camped out nearby and Zoe had crashed with them on more than one occasion. There was a guy that ran a pawn shop in the neighborhood that bought whatever they brought him. Zoe herself had sold a good number of things she had “obtained” while she was homeless to him, and she’d bought drugs from a teenager affiliated with one of the street gangs on the corner, across the street from the restaurant. As far as she could remember, she’d never gone into the restaurant when she was high, but she couldn’t be sure. She supposed if they turned her down for the job on sight, that would be her first clue.

She was almost to the restaurant when she heard someone call out, “Hey, Golden Girl! Is that you?” She turned toward the sound of it and saw Charlie. Charlie was one of the homeless men that hung out in the little camp. He was a veteran and had PTSD. He didn’t use drugs and he liked to lecture the others on the evils of them, especially the younger ones. He called her “Golden Girl” because she gave him her old, dirty blanket, one cold night. He said anybody willing to give up anything on the street had to have a heart of gold.

Charlie’s drug of choice and main reason for being on the streets was alcohol. He was a binge drinker and he would drink anything with alcohol in it. He’d go for weeks sometimes as sober as a church mouse and then suddenly, he’d go on a crazy bender and drink until he was almost dead. He’d get picked up by police or an ambulance and they wouldn’t see him for a while. A few times Zoe thought he had died, but then she’d hear the familiar “Hey, Golden Girl,” and she’d know he was back.

“Hey, Charlie,” she said, glancing toward the restaurant. She was still a few buildings away, but as much as she liked Charlie, being seen with him wouldn’t make a good impression. He wore a ratty old army-issue coat with his name and a bunch of accommodation patches stitched onto it. It used to be green, she supposed, but the years and the streets had turned it an almost shit-brown color. His jeans were filthy and falling apart and his red and gray beard had crumbs in it. Sometimes he wore shoes and other times he walked around barefoot. That day he had on a pair of formerly white shoes that were almost as brown as his jacket. Charlie’s teeth were mostly gone too and what were left were brown and stained.

“Damn, Golden Girl, look at you. Did you fall into some money?”

“Nah,” she said and laughed. “I went home, back to my grandparents. I’m looking for a job.”

“Well, damn,” he said, scratching his beard. “Good for you. You give up the smack?”

“Yep. Clean for almost a month,” she told him, proudly.

“You going to meetings?”

“Nah, I kicked it on my own. I’ll be alright.”

Charlie shook his head. “You need support, girl. I’ve been doing really good myself. I haven’t touched a bottle in months and I’ve been going to meetings over at the Methodist church a few times a week. That’s where I’m headed now. You should go with me.”

“Maybe another time, Charlie. I have some things to take care of today.”

“Just remember, you won’t have anything to take care of if you lose it all to that little black bag you love the taste of so much. I ain’t lecturing, I’m speaking from experience. Just because our poisons are different, don’t mean the end result ain’t the same.”

“I agree with you,” she told Charlie, “and you’re probably right that I should go to a meeting or two.” She thought about the dream she’d had earlier and the guilt that had been eating her up since. She didn’t deal well with stress. It was what always made her go back to using once she had struggled to clean herself up. She’d never tried a twelve-step program. Maybe it was worth a shot. “Okay; there’s something I need to do first, though. How about if I meet you over there?”

“Alright, Golden Girl, I’ll hope to see you,” he said. Zoe watched him limp away, knowing he didn’t have any more faith in her word than her own grandfather did. Trust and respect were two things she’d never had in her life. She knew it was her own fault, and once again she resolved to change it. Smoothing down her new blouse, she headed for the restaurant once again.