Page 38 of Thug

I’d wanted to own a bar for as long as I could remember. When I painted a mental picture of the establishment, it had an eclectic menu of my personal offerings—recipes I’d perfected over the years and hoped everyone would enjoy—with a daily off-menu special posted on a chalk board. I had the bar. The kitchen, however, was still a dream. It would likely remain one for some time.

“I don’t doubt that you can do it,” I said. “I’m saying I can’t afford it right now.”

“I said ‘we’ll take care of it’,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pike said he can get the exhaust fan, and have his brother-in-law make the ductwork. Prospect can get the saw and cut the concrete. I’ll do the electrical, and Swag can do the plumbing.” He dusted off his hands. “Problem solved.”

Their generosity caused a lump to rise in my throat. “I might not be able to pay you for several months,” I said. “Several being six or eight, maybe more. Maybe we should wait until I can afford it.”

“Only payment needed is a good burger,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I blurted

“I said, ‘don’t worry about it.” He patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll get started tomorrow, if that’ll work for you. I’m hungrier than ten kinds of fuck, and those eggs are giving me gas like a motherfucker.”

“Tomorrow is uhhm. Tomorrow’s fine,” I said, hoping they didn’t notice my voice quaking from the emotion I felt. “Thank you.”

The four men walked out of the kitchen, talking amongst themselves about something totally unrelated to the repairs they were going to make. They didn’t want praised or thanked beyond what I’d attempted to do.

They only wanted to be able to patronize a bar that offered a good hamburger.

I glanced around the kitchen. It was clean and suitable for what I wanted but needed some repairs to be operational. When the work was completed, I’d blow their socks off with a burger they’d be sure to love.

Wearing an ear-to-ear grin, I turned around. Through the kitchen door window, I could see Brisco leaning against the bar. He was looking from side to side like he was lost.

“I’m right here.” I pushed the door open and stepped through it. “Coming your way.”

He clamped his hand around his throat. “I’m dying of thirst,” he said, sounding as if he’d spent a weekend in the desert without a drink. “Can we get another bucket?”

“I just took you one.”

He grinned a cheesy smile. “That was ten minutes ago.”

I grabbed a fresh bucket, shoved six bottles of Bud inside, and filled it with ice. I started to set it on top of the bar, and then paused. “I’ve got a question.”

“Don’t know if I’ll have the answer,” he said. “But I’ll give ‘er a hell of a whirl.”

Through all the emotions that came with having no business and then to having a bar filled with bikers every night, I’d forgotten to ask if anyone knew about McKenzie’s boyfriend. Now that I had a moment in private with Brisco, I decided to ask. If anyone would be honest with me about the man’s relationship status, it would probably be him.

“Do you know anything about a guy named…” I paused and looked away, making sure I got it right. “Holderman? Robert Holderman?”

He stared at me like I’d asked him if he had a spare tampon.

The name didn’t seem right when it rolled off my tongue, and I wondered if I’d butchered it to the point that Brisco had no idea who I was talking about.

“Randall!” I blurted. “Sorry. Randall Holderman. Do you know anything about him? Anything you’re willing to tell me? I know a girl who said he’s kind of disappeared on her.”

His dark summer tan immediately washed to stark white. Looking just like he’d seen a ghost, he stared blankly at me while he tried to regain his composure. The look on his face was so eerily out of place, it seemed time stood still long enough for a few moments to tick away.

He swallowed heavily. “No,” he said. “Never heard of him. Why?”

The look on his face said otherwise. I’d obviously hit a nerve that made him extremely uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention.

“Forget it,” I said. “I was just asking for a friend. It’s no big deal.”

His gaze hung on me for a moment before he turned away. After he took a few steps, I cleared my throat. “Hey, Brisco.” I lifted his bucket of beer. “You forgot these.”