Max’ hands were slick with grease. The dismantled parts of his motorcycle were scattered around him as if there had been an explosion. His bike was struggling to start. As much as Max wished he could be spending the day with Brittany, he was forced to hang out in the parking lot of the motel, trying to fix his bike.
“You know, son, there’s a right decent mechanic up in town,” an old man commented as he shuffled out towards his pick-up truck, backlit by the morning light as he looked down at Max.
“Thanks,” Max smiled kindly at the old man. “But I’d rather try and fix her up myself, save some money.”
“He’s pretty cheap,” the old man insisted. He nodded towards his truck. “I could give you a run down there, pile her up in the back.”
It was such a kind offer, Max was pained to turn it down. But the second the mechanic took a look at his bike he’d know who Max was, and more importantly, where he was from. The emblem for the Kings was etched within the engine’s interior, like a secret brand. Back home, that emblem was all Max needed to get a free service on his bike. But here in Colridge, if someone saw it, they’d likely break his jaw. And the last thing Max needed was trouble. He was trying to stay in town as long as possible because being in town meant being with Brittany. If he stirred up too much noise, his Uncle would call him back in a heartbeat.
“That’s mighty kind, but I really can’t put you out like that.” Max hoped that the old man would accept his refusal and not push him anymore. He gave a sigh of relief when the old man nodded and started sauntering over to his truck.
“Suit yourself,” he called over his shoulder to Max. “Was just trying to help you out.”
Max watched the truck sputter out of the parking lot before returning his attention to his bike. He usually found working on it to be therapeutic, but currently his mind was as dismantled as the engine around him. He kept thinking about the last time he’d seen Brittany, and about what she’d told him about her relationship with her brother. It certainly sounded intense. And Max couldn’t help but wonder, given their history, why he hadn’t met Brittany’s brother yet. Was there more to the story? Would his level of protectiveness threaten Max’ relationship with Brittany?
His hand tightened angrily around the wrench he was holding. Max realized that he’d be willing to fight for Brittany, that her brother wasn’t the only one who felt protective towards her. But perhaps her brother’s feelings were just normal, especially given the extreme circumstances they’d grown up under.
Max had no siblings. It was just him and his Mom, and then it was just him. For the longest time, he didn’t think he had any family. He fought for his life on the streets, learning too young how brutal the world can be. He learned how to handle himself in a fight, how to take a punch, and more importantly, how to give a good one.
When his Uncle finally found him, Max must have looked like some sort of wretched street urchin. His clothes and skin were dirtied beyond recognition. His hair was matted against his head and he stank of dirt, sweat, and blood. But beneath all the grime and the pain his Uncle saw Max. Saw the kind of man he could one day become. Max had been denied a proper education, but he’d learned all the life lessons he needed from living on the streets. But if his Uncle hadn’t found him when he had, Max doubted he could have lasted much longer. His lungs were weak, and he had a permanent chill in his bones which felt ready to escalate into something sinister.
Thankfully, fate intervened, and Max was saved. His Uncle and the Skeleton Kings became his family. For the first time in so long, Max felt like he belonged. He would do anything for the Kings, he would defend them with his dying breath. Is that how Brittany’s brother felt about her? Max reasoned it must be, and it helped him understand why their relationship was so intense. Without his mother, Max had nobody. But when Brittany lost her parents, she did have something; she had her brother. And the love they felt for one another got forged in the fire of that loss. If Brittany’s brother hadn’t taken care of her, would Brittany have ended up like Max, living hand to mouth out on the streets? He’d seen what happened to girls who ended up living rough, and it was a much crueler fate than what happened to boys. Max was grateful that Brittany’s brother had saved her like he did. And one day he’d tell him that to his face and shake his hand.
Gunning the engine of his bike Max grinned with satisfaction when she sputtered and then finally came to life. One of his misguided attempts to get the motorcycle running again must have worked. Standing up he wiped down his hands with an old rag and began gathering his tools back up. With the bike repaired it meant that he could go into the town and see Brittany. His day just kept getting better and better.