“Diego Jesus Gonzelez, go with your sister and haveher make you a plate, or I swear—”
He hurried off and joined a girl who looked to be about fifteen. His mom smiled at me again, this time apologetically.
“I am so sorry—kids sometimes repeat things I really wish they wouldn’t. I blame their father. My name is Maria. You may have met my husband, Diego Sr.”
I laughed. “Honestly, he just made my day, so it’s totally fine. I’m Nicky, it’s nice to meet you. And I have no idea if I’ve met your husband yet. Their faces all kind of blur together.”
Maria nodded and shifted the baby on her hip, who chewed on his hand and stared at me with bright eyes.
“Who is this handsome man? Is his name Diego, too?”
“His dad would’ve loved that but, at risk of inflating his head further, we actually named him Manuel. Everyone calls him Manny.” The boy, hearing his name, laughed and waved a slobber-covered fist at me.
Around us, the men start to get up to make their plates now that the women and kids have all gotten theirs. A tall, broad-shouldered duplicate of little Diego came up behind Maria, and kissed her cheek.
“Careful,mi amor, she may bite.”
She swatted him. “Don’t be apendejo. I don’t blame the woman. Go, make us both something to eat. It smells delicious.”
The guy wandered off, and Maria stepped closer to me. She squeezed my arm and whispered, “To be honest, I think you should’ve bit Dalton harder. And I would’ve paid good money to see you set that man-child’s bike on fire. I never did like him. I know this is all new and probably more than a little alarming, but most of the guys here are good guys. Stick with us girls, and we’ll show you the ropes. We aren’t around here too often, but I won’t ever pass up the opportunity to not cook.” She smiled again before heading to the table where everyone sat in genuine camaraderie. Diego pulled out her chair and took little Manny from her, tossing him in the air, much to the delight of the squealinginfant.
As I watched, I sensed someone approaching and turned to see Dalton coming up with two plates of food and a couple of beers tucked under his arm.
“This smells amazing, Vixen. You didn’t tell us you could cook.”
I shrugged. “You never asked.”
He nodded. “I bet there’s a lot we don’t know about you. Come on, one of these is yours.” I blinked at him, and he said, “What? You gotta eat too.”
I looked over at the table, and Maria was patting the seat next to her. I stopped Dalton when he went to give me one of the beers. “I’m more of a whiskey girl.”
He smiled. “Of course you are,” he said, and then took the empty seat next to his brother, who had been watching me the entire time.
Well, this was more than a little unexpected. I soon found any residual tension melting away in the warmth of laughter and conversation around the table. Diego clearly doted on Maria, who fed Manny some of the refried beans I had made. Little Diego seemed intent on wearing his fajitas, and the sister handed him wads of napkins at a time. Several other women had bikers next to them, every single one of them with an arm around each other, or a hand on the knee.
I met the eyes of a blonde woman a few seats down from me, her hand messing with Jackson’s hair as he bantered with another guy I hadn’t met yet. She gave me an appraising look, her pale eyes neither friendly nor hateful, before returning her attention to her plate.
By the time everyone had had their fill, I was laughing with Maria at some dumb joke Diego had made. She turned to me and said, “Alright, Nicky, I’ve got to know. What kind of girl shows up to a biker bar in the middle of downtown Atlanta and says, ‘Fuck it, I’m setting a bike on fire’?”
I groaned and sipped at the lowball glass of whiskeythat had appeared in front of me at some point. “I wasn’t planning on it, I swear. I just needed a drink after a long day on the road and—”
Diego held up a hand. “Hey, that leads to my question. Where did you learn to ride?”
I scrambled to remember Nicole’s backstory that had been drilled into me. “My brother, actually. I used to beg him to take me riding with him when I was a kid. I guess he got tired of me hanging onto the back of his bike ‘cos when I turned sixteen, he gave me my first Triumph. I loved that bike. I might’ve ridden it a little too hard ‘cos one night, I took a corner too fast and—” I make a whoosh sound and mime an explosion with my hands. “When my brother pulled up, I was sitting on the back of the ambo. When he realized I wasn’t hurt too bad, he ripped my ass a new one.”
“Serves you right!” Dalton hollered from down the table, and I realized everyone had gone quiet to hear my story. “Where’s he now?”
I glanced down. “He died a couple of years ago.” Maria squeezed my knee, and I looked up at her. “It’s alright; I like to think he still rides with me.”
Dalton raised his beer. “I’ll drink to that.” The other bikers raised their drinks, too, and there was a moment of silence before I started clearing empty plates from the table.
As I cleaned, Maria came up to me and handed me a note.
“We’re going to head home, honey. Time to put these heathens to bed,” she said, looking over at Diego who was holding both boys sleeping soundly, one on each shoulder. Her eyes softened, then she nodded to the piece of paper I’d slipped in my pocket. “That’s my number on there. You text me if you need anything. I would offer to stay and help, but Mac told everyone to let you do your job—the overbearing idiot.”
I smiled at her. “It’s fine, really. Thank you. You’rethe first friendly face I’ve met in this place.”
She turned to leave. “Eh, don’t let them fool you—they’re a bunch of softies. But I’m here if you need me. I think we could be friends.” She winked at me, slipping her hand into Diego’s back pocket as they left.
