Crash (Evil Dead MC 2)

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it,” he replied while she locked up.

The three of them stepped down off the sidewalk. Crash pulled a spare helmet out of his saddlebag and held it out to her.

She took it, her eyes running over his bike. “God, I miss riding.”

“You get rid of your bike?” Cole asked surprised.

She nodded. “Sold it. Needed money to start this place.”

Crash threw his leg over his bike, reaching to start it. “This place making you any money?”

“Only because Ace makes a fortune with his pieces. He just got commissioned to do a piece for the lobby of an office building in downtown Atlanta. Peachtree Towers, I think it’s called. Last month one of those snooty restaurants up on Highland Avenue bought one for its courtyard. Paid fifteen thousand.”

“Hell, that’s some nice pocket change.”

She climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms around him.

“How are the guys?” she asked over his shoulder.

“Good. You should take a trip out. I’m sure they’d love to see you. I can think of one in particular that would love it,” he teased.

She laughed, and he gunned the throttle. The two bikes roared off down the street, turning heads.

They were sitting in his Grandmother’s dining room. Crash moving his tall drink glass around in small circles on the lace tablecloth, the wet ring soaking through to the plastic covering underneath. The ice cubes in the tea clinking softly. His belly was full, and he was happy.

Gram had been at the stove, frying up some chicken the old fashioned way in a cast iron skillet on the stove when they’d arrived. She’d turned when they’d come through the door. She’d wiped her hands on her apron, shrieking with joy as she ran across the kitchen, her arms in the air, and grabbed Crash in a hug. He’d wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet.

“My boy! You came home!”

He’d set her back on her feet as she’d kissed his cheek. “Hey, Gram. Miss me?”

She’d taken his bearded face in both hands and shook it. “Of course I’ve missed you! And look at this scruff on your jaw, I can hardly see your pretty face. Where are those dimples I remember? Buried under there somewhere?”

He’d laughed. “I smell something good cooking, Gram. You gonna feed us?”

“Of course.”

“Move outta the way, I want a hug,” Cole had ordered with a grin, pushing Crash aside.

“Cole!”

He’d picked her up in a hug as well. “How are you Mama Rose?”

“I’m old. How do I look?”

“Beautiful!”

“Ha!” She smacked him on the shoulder. “You always were a flirt.”

He laughed and grabbed her cheeks and laid a kiss right on her mouth.

She shrieked. “Owee. Boy, stop that! Gentlemen callers in my kitchen, and here I am with no lipstick and without my pearls,” she teased with a wink.

“Is that fried chicken, I smell Gram?” Crash asked.

“It’s Sunday, isn’t it? Don’t I always fry up some chicken after church on Sunday?”

“Yes, ma’am. As long as I can remember.”