Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Hello?” Silas Mackenzie, my grandfather’s club president, as well as Phoebe’s grandfather, said.
“Silas,” I said. “It’s Bayou.”
“I know, kid,” Silas replied, sounding amused. “What’s up?”
Kid.
Only he could get away with calling me that.
Drawing in a deep breath, I went to tell him, but the words stuck in my throat.
I must’ve made some weird sound, because Phoebe gently slipped the phone from my hands, pressed speaker, and said, “Granddad?”
“Hey, sweetheart.” Silas’s voice softened. “What’s going on?”
She cleared her throat, then launched in.
“Dixie was diagnosed with cancer,” Phoebe started.
Silas inhaled sharply.
“And he kept it from us until the last possible moment,” she continued. “He told us today that he had a few weeks left, at most.”
I could hear Silas swallow as he said, “Goddamn that man and his secrets.”
I agreed.
Sometimes my grandfather was so hellbent on making sure that everyone else in his life was okay, that he forgot about worrying about himself.
“Hoax and Bayou think that he won’t make it past Christmas,” Phoebe continued. “They’re fairly sure that he’ll go once everyone leaves. If you want to see him one more time, I suggest you go do that now.”
“I’ll call the club,” he said. “Love you, Phoebe.”
“Love you, too, Grandad,” she replied.
The two of us sat in the silence of our bedroom as we both got lost in our own thoughts.
“When my dad and granddad were fighting,” she said out of the blue, “my mom said that Dixie helped convince my dad and granddad not to fight anymore.”
“I actually remember hearing about their feud when I was younger,” I said. “I remember going to the club parties and watching as everyone else had their families around but Silas. Grandpa used to say that it was sad that someone that loved like Silas didn’t have anyone to love him back. That’s why he was such a part of mine and my family’s lives. Because Grandpa felt like Silas needed someone.”
“I’m glad that Dixie gave my granddad that,” she said into my chest. “What’s your best memory about Dixie?”
Chapter
Twelve
I don’t know what to say except it’s Christmas and we’re all in misery.
—T-shirt
BAYOU
Past
“What’s this?” I asked as I stared at the bike in the yard.
“I know that your dad pretty much forbid you from having a bike,” Grandpa said. “But I don’t think that’s fair. He said that if you could pay for it on your own, you could have it. Well, I’m of the mind that if I have the money, I can share it any way I want to. And I want you to have this bike.”
“Dad will flip,” I admitted, excitement rising in my belly.
“Your dad will get over it,” he said. “And it’s not like I’m giving you something that you’re going to be able to just ride out today. You’ll have to fix it up.”
I looked at the bike.
It was a Harley Sportster.
I’d wanted one since I could remember.
And Grandpa had found it for me.
And bought it for me.
Oh, and pretty much gave the middle finger to my dad.
I loved my grandfather.
“What do we do first?” I asked.
“First we get it off the trailer together, because I’m not as young as I used to be, and I might or might not have strained a muscle getting it on there by myself,” he admitted.
I chuckled, and together we got it off the trailer and into his shop.
The moment it was under the harsh fluorescent lights of the shop, my heart started to pound.
I could see it now.
Shiny chrome handlebars, black, shiny paint, brand-new tires. Orange emblems.
“It definitely has potential,” Grandpa said. “Unfortunately for you, I’ll work on this on the weekends when I’m not at work. If you want to work on it when I’m not here, you’re more than welcome.”
“I feel like I’ll probably mess up more than I fix,” I grumbled.
“Bayou, you’ve been at my side with Hoax since you were six. I think that you know more than anyone other than Hoax would know what to do.” He chuckled. “Believe in yourself.”
“It’s hard to believe in yourself when you’re as fucked up as I am,” I grumbled.
I gasped when my grandfather whipped me around by the scruff of my shirt.
His face was in mine when he snarled, “Don’t talk about yourself like that. There’s nothing fucking wrong with you.”
I swallowed hard.
I’d seen my grandfather angry, of course.
He was a biker.
Bikers had tempers.
And ever since Grandma got diagnosed with cancer, he’d had a worse temper than normal.
“But I am,” I grumbled, unable to meet his eyes.
I wasn’t able to meet many people’s eyes. At least not for long.
Yet another sign of my autism, according to my mother.
“You’re the best goddamn kid I’ve ever met,” he countered. “You ever tell Hoax this, and I’ll kick your ass, but even better than him. You’re more like my Mary than anyone else, and I love my Mary with my entire heart. So of course I would like you the most.”