Chapter 5: Stepping into the Lie
Nal stared at the scarred laminate table, tracing a deep scratch in the wood with the tip of his thumb. The younger biker shifted uncomfortably, waiting for his mentor to speak. Clara held her breath, the seconds stretching out into an eternity of agonizing suspense. She had thrown her desperation onto the table like a pair of loaded dice, and now she had to wait to see how they landed.
“How old is he supposed to be?” Nal asked quietly, breaking the silence.
Clara blinked, stunned that he was actually considering it. “Four. Turning five next month.”
“That’s a tough age to fake for a grown man,” the younger biker muttered with a faint, dry smile. “Unless I’m the cool, reckless uncle who drops in with a pocket full of candy and a bad attitude.”
Nal looked at his associate, then back to Clara. “What’s your mother’s name?”
“Martha,” Clara answered instantly. “Martha Sterling. She’s at St. Jude’s Hospice on the east side of town. Room 214.”
Nal stood up from the booth, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He reached into his leather vest, pulled out a worn leather wallet, and dropped a crumpled twenty-dollar bill onto the table to cover whatever they owed. He didn't look back at the door where Jack was undoubtedly standing in the rain, waiting for his time to strike. Right now, Jack and his corporate corporate threats had to wait. There was a dying woman who needed a ghost to bring her a little peace.
“Get your coat, Clara,” Nal said, his voice carrying the quiet authority of a commander issuing orders. “If we’re going to do this, we need to get our story straight before we walk through those hospital doors. You’re going to drive. We’ll follow in the truck.”
Clara stood up so fast her knees bumped the table, her hands trembling as she buttoned her light blue cardigan. Relief so profound and heavy washed over her that it made her legs weak. “Thank you,” she choked out, fresh tears welling up, but this time they were tears of fragile hope. “I don't even know your real name.”
“Nal,” he said simply as he turned toward the exit. “And this is Leo.”
May you like
Leo offered a reassuring nod, flashing a surprisingly warm grin that softened his rugged, long-haired appearance. Together, the three of them walked out of the diner, leaving the warm neon glow of Racks Beer behind them as they stepped into the cold, gray embrace of the afternoon storm.
***
