Interested?"
"How much?"
"Three hundred," said Mulligan.
"Fuck off. One-fifty," countered Savage.
"Make it two. Come on, she's a pretty young thing."
Savage looked at Crazy, who shrugged indifferently.
Mulligan returned to his rig to retrieve the pretty teenager.
"That was good weed, man," she said happily as Mulligan climbed into the cab.
"Listen." Mulligan lowered the radio. "How would you like to party with some cool guys from a motorcycle club? They'll take you all the way to Los Angeles if you want, or San Francisco, or wherever."
"Wow. Who are they?"
"The Henchmen."
"Oh man, fuck yeah. Those guys are the coolest. Thanks. Thanks a lot, man."
"Don't mention it, kid. I'm glad to help out."
Mulligan drove off with two hundred dollars in his pocket. Christine drove off on the back of Savage's bike. As they glided gracefully between lanes on the highway, her hair lashed wildly around her face. A princess on a white knight's horse , she thought. Imagine , the most famous motorcycle club in the country taking me to Los Angeles . She had never felt so free.
The apartment was exactly what I had expected. A crapped-up one-bedroom in a run-down part of town. Leverick had even been thoughtful enough to furnish the damn thing for me. A mattress, no box springs or covers, on the floor to sleep on. A chest of drawers that looked like it belonged in a museum and a cracked mirror completed the scene. An old easy chair with a couple of springs broken sat next to a table and lamp in the living room. An open sleeping bag served as an area rug, and a milk crate supported a black-and-white TV set. The kitchen and bathroom should have been condemned. Maybe a few tons of Brillo could have made a dent. There was beer in the refrigerator. Christ, he even had empty pizza boxes on the floor. In short, it was perfect.
My first ride on the Harley was a little unnerving. The bike I'd trained on hadn't had its handlebars quite so high. It would take a few days of cruising around the neighborhood before I could master the chopper.
I made frequent trips past Mike's bar and the clubhouse. By this time, I figured, they must know exactly where I lived and who I Was. After two and a half weeks my hunch proved correct. It was a Saturday morning. I was just about to settle down to some Saturday morning TV when there was a loud bang at the door. When I opened the door I was tackled by an animal whom I'd briefly had the pleasure of meeting while in prison.
"Hey, brother, how the fuck are you?" he asked as he pinned me to the ground. He then gave me a big, wet kiss on the lips.
"I'm great, Dog. How the hell are you, man?" I asked, as I slipped out of the position with a move any high school wrestler could have managed. I then climbed on his back and attempted to get him in a headlock. He dumped me off his back with ease and we both laughed at our childish reunion. I didn't immediately notice the other biker who'd come in with Dog until he yelled at us from my easy chair.
"Shut the fuck up, you guys! Pee-wee Herman's coming on!" The three of us watched the humorous opening of the kid's show. I found out later that it was a favorite among bikers. Shortly before Dog got sent away, he and few of the other Henchmen had gotten bit parts in one of Pee-wee Herman's movies.
"I'd like you to meet Little Vinney, Doc," said Dog, as he yanked him out of the easy chair and took the choice TV seat.
"Would you jump in my grave that fast, Dog?" Vinney protested.
"If it was this comfortable and had TV I would."
"Moron," Vinney mumbled. He extended his hand to me. "How are you, Doc? I heard about Boldero. Fuckin' hacks are always tryin' to fuck with the inmates." Vinney and I continued our conversation as we walked to the kitchen to get a beer. Dog continued to watch Pee - wee's Playhouse . I found it amazing that people so capable of violence and terror could turn into five-year-olds at a moment's notice. Or maybe the opposite was true. Maybe these
"How much?"
"Three hundred," said Mulligan.
"Fuck off. One-fifty," countered Savage.
"Make it two. Come on, she's a pretty young thing."
Savage looked at Crazy, who shrugged indifferently.
Mulligan returned to his rig to retrieve the pretty teenager.
"That was good weed, man," she said happily as Mulligan climbed into the cab.
"Listen." Mulligan lowered the radio. "How would you like to party with some cool guys from a motorcycle club? They'll take you all the way to Los Angeles if you want, or San Francisco, or wherever."
"Wow. Who are they?"
"The Henchmen."
"Oh man, fuck yeah. Those guys are the coolest. Thanks. Thanks a lot, man."
"Don't mention it, kid. I'm glad to help out."
Mulligan drove off with two hundred dollars in his pocket. Christine drove off on the back of Savage's bike. As they glided gracefully between lanes on the highway, her hair lashed wildly around her face. A princess on a white knight's horse , she thought. Imagine , the most famous motorcycle club in the country taking me to Los Angeles . She had never felt so free.
The apartment was exactly what I had expected. A crapped-up one-bedroom in a run-down part of town. Leverick had even been thoughtful enough to furnish the damn thing for me. A mattress, no box springs or covers, on the floor to sleep on. A chest of drawers that looked like it belonged in a museum and a cracked mirror completed the scene. An old easy chair with a couple of springs broken sat next to a table and lamp in the living room. An open sleeping bag served as an area rug, and a milk crate supported a black-and-white TV set. The kitchen and bathroom should have been condemned. Maybe a few tons of Brillo could have made a dent. There was beer in the refrigerator. Christ, he even had empty pizza boxes on the floor. In short, it was perfect.
My first ride on the Harley was a little unnerving. The bike I'd trained on hadn't had its handlebars quite so high. It would take a few days of cruising around the neighborhood before I could master the chopper.
I made frequent trips past Mike's bar and the clubhouse. By this time, I figured, they must know exactly where I lived and who I Was. After two and a half weeks my hunch proved correct. It was a Saturday morning. I was just about to settle down to some Saturday morning TV when there was a loud bang at the door. When I opened the door I was tackled by an animal whom I'd briefly had the pleasure of meeting while in prison.
"Hey, brother, how the fuck are you?" he asked as he pinned me to the ground. He then gave me a big, wet kiss on the lips.
"I'm great, Dog. How the hell are you, man?" I asked, as I slipped out of the position with a move any high school wrestler could have managed. I then climbed on his back and attempted to get him in a headlock. He dumped me off his back with ease and we both laughed at our childish reunion. I didn't immediately notice the other biker who'd come in with Dog until he yelled at us from my easy chair.
"Shut the fuck up, you guys! Pee-wee Herman's coming on!" The three of us watched the humorous opening of the kid's show. I found out later that it was a favorite among bikers. Shortly before Dog got sent away, he and few of the other Henchmen had gotten bit parts in one of Pee-wee Herman's movies.
"I'd like you to meet Little Vinney, Doc," said Dog, as he yanked him out of the easy chair and took the choice TV seat.
"Would you jump in my grave that fast, Dog?" Vinney protested.
"If it was this comfortable and had TV I would."
"Moron," Vinney mumbled. He extended his hand to me. "How are you, Doc? I heard about Boldero. Fuckin' hacks are always tryin' to fuck with the inmates." Vinney and I continued our conversation as we walked to the kitchen to get a beer. Dog continued to watch Pee - wee's Playhouse . I found it amazing that people so capable of violence and terror could turn into five-year-olds at a moment's notice. Or maybe the opposite was true. Maybe these
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