“If they decide to leave before then?”
Carol waited.
Dale looked toward the kitchen.
“You get her toward the back if you can.”
“How?”
“We’ll find something.”
The first Desert Saints rider arrived eight minutes later.
Marcus Velez.
Then Sean Brewer.
Then Travis King.
The motorcycles did not roar into the parking lot as a coordinated intimidation display.
They arrived separately.
People answering a message.
Still, six motorcycles appearing within ten minutes changes the atmosphere of a roadside diner.
Frank noticed.
Roy noticed faster.
“What’s this?”
Roy asked.
Frank looked outside.
“Bikers.”
“Too many.”
“Maybe meeting.”
Roy watched another motorcycle turn in.
“We should go.”
Frank looked at his phone.
“Two minutes.”
Maya heard.
Two minutes.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
Carol approached with the check.
Frank reached for it.
Carol deliberately frowned at the receipt.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“I rang this wrong.”
Frank looked irritated.
“It's fine.”
“No.”
“You got two burgers.”
“I charged three.”
“Take one off.”
“I have to void and reprint.”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
Frank stared.
Carol forced herself not to retreat.
She picked up the check.
“Be right back.”
She walked to the register.
Her hands trembled as soon as she turned away.
Gus noticed.
He had been in the kitchen until Dale quietly explained enough for him to understand.
Gus stepped beside Carol.
“I’ll do the void.”
“I can.”
“I know.”
He lowered his voice.
“Breathe.”
Carol looked at him.
Gus said:
“You're doing exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
She nodded.
Gus moved slowly through the register screens.
Slower than necessary.
At the booth, Roy leaned toward Frank.
“We're leaving.”
Frank looked toward the front.
Eight motorcycles now.
Dale sat at the counter.
Two riders had taken a booth.
Others remained outside.
No one stared at Frank.
That made him more nervous.
People trying not to stare can feel more deliberate than staring.
Frank stood halfway.
Dale rose from the counter.
Not quickly.
He picked up his coffee.
Walked toward the booth.
“Evening.”
Frank looked at him.
Dale stopped beside the empty end of the table.
“Mind if I sit?”
“Yes.”
Dale sat anyway.
Roy shifted.
Dale looked at him.
Then at Frank.
“Dale Harker.”
Frank did not offer his name.
“That’s fine.”
Dale placed his coffee down.
“I’ve been eating here Fridays eighteen years.”
“That right?”
“Something like that.”
Frank looked toward Carol.
“We're trying to leave.”
“Sure.”
Dale nodded.
“Road north is ugly tonight.”
“Black ice up near Sunset Crater turnoff.”
“We’re going south.”
“Better.”
Dale smiled.
“Still cold.”