Page 47 of Diesel's Perseverance
Nodding, Myla replied, “I get it—he’s your brother. This whole thing with Freddy—not knowing where he is, if he’s hurt, alive, or dead has been incredibly stressful. Constant high-powered stress makes people emotionally vulnerable and open, wanting to feel something other than anxiety, fear, and sadness. And you’re right; our focus needs to be on finding Freddy and bringing him home. Once that takes place, then we can see what happens”—she waved her hand between them—“with us. We may find the spark has fizzled out.”
She seriously doubted that would be the case with her, but she suspected Diesel’s guilt about his brother was interweaved by a conflicted past the two had shared. Myla feared that after Diesel played the knight in shining armor, he’d ride off on his iron horse and leave her and the remains of her shattered relationship with Freddy in the dust.
“You have to decide where you stand with Freddy,” he said.
“Yeah, I do.” Not wanting to discuss the abuse she’d suffered, she turned toward the patio and said, “Let’s eat outside. It’s a beautiful night.”
“Inside is better. I can see all the doors. Eating outside is risky.”
“Are you thinking of Peter Cano?”
“Him and rivals. A biker never knows when shit’s gonna hit the fan.”
“That makes sense. So we’ll eat inside. I’m starving.”
The hostess sat them at a table in the back of the restaurant. Diesel took the chair against the wall across from Myla. She noted that he could view the entire place from his vantage point. Diesel explained that the family-owned eatery dated back to the late 1940s and was a Pinewood Springs institution.
“I remember passing by this place when I first came to town. I got lost and ended up on this street. I wondered about it but didn’t remember the name.” Myla opened the menu and looked down. “It’s pretty basic.”
“Same listings since they opened. Best damn burgers, fries, and milkshakes in the county,” Diesel said.
“It’s cool that the later generations kept the traditions. A lot of places feel pressured to offereverythingunder the sun. So far, I like it, and I haven’t even tasted the food. I’m going to splurge and order a double chocolate milkshake. I can’t remember the last time I had a shake.”
“They’re awesome. Everything here is made to order.”
Twenty minutes later, Myla sank her teeth into the best burger she’d ever tasted. “This is beyond delicious.” She swiped a napkin across her chin. “Juicy, perfectly cooked, and amazing.” She took another big bite.
“This is my go-to for burgers even though the club owns a burger joint.”
“I didn’t know that. Is it on Main Street?”
“No. It’s in West Pinewood Springs.”
“I haven’t been to that part of town. I’d like to check it out.”
“It’s a newer section built around ten or so years ago, about three miles from here across the river. That area has some kind of mall, a few chain restaurants, among other businesses.”
“You don’t go there very often, do you?” She smiled.
“Nope. Sometimes a group of us will go to Burger and Beer, the joint we own.”
“I’d still like to see that area sometime.”
“We can do that, but the ideal areas around here are the backroads crossing through the valleys and mountains. The best seat in the house for that is on a bike. It’s fuckin’ awesome.”
“I bet. That’d be great to experience some time.”
They kept the conversation light for the rest of their meal, ignoring the gigantic elephant in the room: what Diesel found at the house in Denver. Myla didn’t think it was the time and place to ask the questions that had been going through her mind ever since he’d returned. She also didn’t want anyone overhearing their conversation, but she was prepared to bring up the topic to Diesel when they got back to the clubhouse.
The ride back was a different experience from the earlier one. The night was dark, with a sliver of the moon slipping behind fishtailed clouds. The headlight beam threw shadows around them, and black-limbed trees raced past in a blur as the cool air brushed Myla’s skin.
As before, the journey had ended far too soon, and she pressed her head against Diesel’s shoulder as he slowed down and hung a left turn onto the road leading to the club.
“How’d you like the ride back?” he asked as he helped her dismount.
“I loved it, but it was scarier at night. I never realized how dark that road is.”
“Nighttime riding is more challenging. You can hear nature’s conversation better at night, and that’s what I enjoy. For me, riding is Zen-like; the landscape absorbs into my skin. I become completely aware of being in the moment. Everything is heightened, you know? I can feel the sky, taste the air, see the color of the wind.” He ran a hand over his face. “It’s fuckin’ hard to explain, but the bike’s vibration feels like my very life beat. When I was in the pen, not riding was the fuckin’ worst thing of all. I used to dream about it all the time. Hell, it sucked.”
