Here, the buildings are even more broken down. Windows are boarded up, and most of the houses need paint and care they're obviously not getting. People are gathered on street corners, talking and keeping out of the sun. Still, from the way Dad talks about South Side, this is supposed to be a crime-infested war zone, too dangerous for the cops to even drive into, and it obviously isn't. Just another of his lies, I guess. Anything to make himself seem like the hero of the city. He doesn't even know what a hero is.
It makes me grip an actual Hero a little tighter. I wonder if he notices.
We slow until we pull up in front of a small house. It's better kept than many in the neighborhood, but could use a coat of paint. The moment we stop, the front door slams open and out bursts a tiny woman—shorter than me, even—with a sensible, short haircut she's allowed to turn gray and a friendly looking face, though right now it's creased with concern.
“Craig!” she shouts and charges towards us as fast as her legs can carry her. “God, I was so worried when I heard about the attack. Are you okay?”
Hero barely gets off the bike in time to catch her as she leaps into his arms. He lifts her easily and hugs her close. “I'm okay, ma. We're all fine.”
Wait.
One: Hero's name is Craig? I've gotten so used to their nicknames that it hasn't even occurred to me that they might have regular names too, but of course they do? What about King and Wild Child? Hank? George? Burton? I have to stifle a giggle. From now on I'm calling King Herbert and Wild Child Otto.
Two: That's his mom? How on earth could a little woman like her have given birth to someone who grew up to be the size of the behemoth in front of me? I'd hate to see what his dad looked like.
There's no mistaking the love between them, though. It's strange to see Hero like this, all loving and sweet and acting like any other guy, as if he wasn't part of the most powerful motorcycle gang in the city and didn't carry a gun in his belt.
As Hero puts her down, she smiles and waves to King and Wild Child. “Hi, boys.” She doesn't use their names, though, so I don't learn anything new.
King nods and Wild Child smiles at her. “Hey, Mrs. M.”
“And who's this?” I realize she's asking about me. “You didn't finally take an old lady, did you? She's cute.”
Hero and I shake our heads at the same time. “No, ma, it's complicated, but she's just out for the ride. I just wanted to come by so you knew I was all right.”
She pushes past him and holds out a hand. With her worries taken care of, she has a plenty warm smile for me. Her dimples are deep, making her seem younger. “I'm Karen.”
“Emily.” I take it and try to match the firmness of her handshake.
“Oh, a pretty name, too. Are you sure she's not—” She looks over her shoulder.
“I'm sure, ma.” But as Hero says it, he watches me closely, like he's curious about my reaction.
She sighs, but nods. She worries about him—it's obvious. I guess I would too if I had a kid in a motorcycle gang. “Do you guys have time to stay for a bit? I'll put on some tea and coffee, and I've got a few of the sodas you like. I could heat up some stew. You boys need to eat more.” Her stern gaze passes over all three of them.
“Thanks, but we have to keep going. We need to fix up the compound so we're ready for next time.”
Her smile drops, but whatever she has to say about it remains unsaid. It's obvious she doesn't like what her son's involved with, but she's not about to try to convince him otherwise either. What other opportunities are there here? “Always something going on, isn't there?”
“I know,” he says as he gets back on the bike. Knowing that's my cue, I hurry to get back on behind him. “Always something. But I'll be back next week, okay? I love you.”
“I love you too, honey. Be careful.”
He nods. “Always am.” He starts the bike.
She looks like she knows just as well as I do that it's a lie.
“We should get back,” says King, backing up Hero.
When we're back on the road, Hero seems to sit a little straighter, a little more rigid. I give him another squeeze for comfort, but he doesn't give any sign that he notices.
20
KING
I wonder if Emily's ever seen anything like this neighborhood. Growing up in her gilded ivory tower, she's had it easy while the rest of us have to make shit work without having it all handed to us.