![]() Right then, they were bent over the engine of a car, hood up, one on each side, doing shit. Or maybe it was just because he looked at his son and couldn’t stop himself from showing some love. The kid had done something his father liked. ![]() Carson knew it, even though he’d never felt anything like it. Or, the best, he’d grab him by the side or back of the neck and tug him close, swaying him around. Or he’d smack him on the shoulder in a way that wasn’t mean. He’d seen them grin at each other, they did it a lot, and Carson couldn’t remember one single time he’d smiled at his old man.Īnd he’d seen the goatee guy laugh at something his kid said. Looked just like his old man, like Carson looked like his.īut Carson would bet the three hundred fifty-eight dollars he’d saved that the kid he was watching was proud of that fact, where Carson absolutely was not. The best and worst times were watching the goatee guy with his boy. Since Carson spent a lot of time watching, he’d seen that guy-and others, all members of the Chaos Motorcycle Club-around Ride, the store and the custom car and bike shop at the back, all of which they owned and ran. ![]() And he was doing it with his son right by his side. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |