I’m hoping Flint is at home and that I haven’t made the long trip to his mountaintop cabin for nothing. The drive is up a winding gravel road with steep drop-offs on both sides. I tried calling his cell phone and didn’t get an answer. Considering the reason for my unexpected visit, it might be better if I showed up in person rather than try to explain it over the phone anyway.

The loud muffler of my motorcycle gives my approach away a long time before I reach the cabin. Flint and Sam are both standing on the front porch, leaning on the wooden oak railing, waiting for me when I pull up in front.

In the summer, the big wrap-around porch is a popular spot. One of the first things Kendra did after they were married was to line the porch with old-timey, white rocking chairs. The Steel Infidels spend plenty of summer evenings there drinking whiskey and trading wild tales of motorcycle club life.

“What’s up, Toby?” Flint asks when I climb off the bike. “Is something wrong? We heard the bike coming up the road. Come on in. Sam and I were having a beer.”

He opens the screen door and I follow him inside.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “You normally don’t drive all the way up here without calling first. Is everything alright? Sam, go get him a beer out of the fridge.”

I clear my throat and look at the floor, a little embarrassed to tell him why I’m here.

“You know that Mayor’s dinner that I’m supposed to be at tonight in Atlanta?” I ask.

“Yeah, what about it?” Flint asks with a frown. “You don’t want to go? It’s too late to back out now. They’re expecting you, and it will be good for the club’s image. Take one for the team, Toby. Suck it up, do it, and get it over with. It will only last a couple of hours and then you’ll be out of there.”

“No, it’s not that,” I say. “I was just wondering…what should I wear?”

Flint lets out a surprised laugh. “You’re asking me this now?” he says. “Hours before the dinner? Why didn’t you say something two days ago? What were you planning to wear? Haven’t you thought about this?”

“Nothing fancy,” I reply. “That’s not my style. Probably just jeans and a nice shirt. And my black boots. Then I started thinking that maybe I should put a little more effort into it.”

Thankfully, Flint isn’t the type of man to judge, and he doesn’t now.

“What changed your mind?” he asks.

“I’m taking Maggie, so I don’t want her to be embarrassed by how I’m dressed,” I tell him. “Her family is going to be sitting with us, so I’ll be meeting them for the first time too.”

“And you want to make a good impression on Daddy Dearest?” Sam asks, grinning broadly. He’s caught the tail end of our conversation. He walks across the room from the kitchen and hands me a bottle of beer.

“Well, I don’t want to make a bad one,” I reply dryly. “Are you two going to help me or not?”

Flint is the only man in the MC who owns a business suit or a tie. The rest of us live in our jeans, leather jackets, and riding boots. Up to now, I’ve never had a reason to need anything else to wear. I’m sincerely hoping the dinner tonight is a one-time deal. The thought of putting on a suit makes me itch and break out in a sweat.

“Lucky for you, I have a closet full of expensive suits that might fit,” he says. “I knew they would come in handy one day, so I kept them all in suit bags when I left the District Attorney’s office. I might even have a pair of shoes because the boots you’re wearing are definitely not going to work.”

He points down at my boots that are scuffed on the sides and dusty from the ride up. I hold up one foot to take a better look.

“What’s the issue? I think they’re alright. There’s not any holes in them. I can shine these up to be good as new. Don’t even think about handing me a pair of expensive loafers. These will do just fine.”

He motions for me to follow him into his bedroom, where he opens the door to a closet. Both sides are hanging full of business suits and fancy dress clothes that I’ve never seen Flint wear.

“You weren’t kidding,” I say. “You were a regular fashionista.”

After an hour of going through all the suits in his closet and Sam making jokes about every single one, we finally give up on the idea of my massive legs and muscular arms ever fitting into one of Flint’s suits. We’re the same height, but where he’s lean and mean, I’m all bulk and muscle.

I realize now it was a stupid idea from the start.

“Now what?” I say. “Got any other ideas? I need to be on the road soon to Atlanta.”

Flint carefully tucks the last suit back into a bag. “You must have another pair of pants in your closet,” he says. “You can’t wear jeans. Not to a country club dinner with the Mayor of Atlanta. Even for a biker, you need to show a bit of class.”

I try to think. When was the last time I had to dress up in anything besides my regular work or riding clothes? I remember.

“I have a pair of black pants that I wore to my Aunt’s funeral a couple of years ago. They might work if they’re not too tight.”

Flint thinks a minute, then nods. “That will be fine. What about a white shirt?”

“With buttons?” I ask.

“Preferably,” he replies dryly. “If you’re going to wear a tie.”

“Yeah, I have a white shirt. Dammit! I hate things around my neck. I feel like they’re choking me. Do I have to wear a tie?”

“Depends on how much you want to impress this girl. We’re talking two hours here, not a lifetime of suits and ties. Suck it up and wear the damn tie. It’s not going to fucking kill you.”

He reaches way back into the closet and pulls out a large black blazer.

“This was Jesse’s. Try it on.”

I slip on the black blazer. It’s a perfect fit.

“Now you’re in business,” Flint says. “It looks good on you.” He takes out a hanger with several colorful ties and starts holding them up to my face one at a time.

“What the hell are you doing now?” I ask. “I think you might be enjoying all this clothes design stuff a little too much. Do you have a secret life you want to tell us about?”

I’m joking and he ignores me.

“I’m trying to match the color of your eyes,” he says. “Trust me. Your girl will appreciate the extra effort I’m putting in here.”

He holds up his final choice, a blue striped tie.

“I remember the last time I wore this tie,” he says, serious for a moment. “It was my final day in the District Attorney’s office in Atlanta. Jesse called me during my lunch break to say that it was time for me to come back home. The Steel Infidels needed me. And more importantly, my brothers needed me too. I knew Jesse would never have made the call if it wasn’t necessary.”

“Was that when the Liberators killed Tommy? Sam told me about it in a letter.”

Flint nods. “I cancelled my appointments for the rest of the day, drove home, and stripped out of my suit and tie. My Steel Infidels black leather jacket was hidden way back in the closet. I put it there where I couldn’t see it. Where I wouldn’t be reminded of what I’d left behind. I remember pulling it out that day and slipping it on. The minute the soft leather touched my bare skin, I knew I was home again.”

“Do you ever regret leaving Atlanta and coming back home?” I ask. I’ve never talked to Flint about his time there or why he went in the first place.

“Never,” he replies. “Not for a moment. I’ll never leave the Steel Infidels again.” He presses the tie into my hand and grows quiet for a moment. “We’re family, which means we’re always here for you. Your last name might not be Mason, but you’re still our brother just the same. Right, Sam?”

Sam slaps me on the back. “Toby knows that already. You don’t need to tell him. We’ve been brothers since what? Seventh grade?”

I nod, knowing I don’t need to say anything. I feel the same way about all of the Steel Infidels. I don’t know how I would have made it this far without them.

I wouldn’t have. No way.

“You had better get going,” Flint says. “Your girl is waiting for you. Make us proud.”