Page 61 of Nomad

Brash gave her a funny look. “Run?” He seemed to think that over and then sighed deeply. “Honestly. I don’t know. You givin’ him a reason to stay?”

“If he’ll let me.”

“Good enough.”

Bud went to bed with a whole new worry. The day had started with her worrying about whether or not Cann would do time in jail. It ended with her worrying about what Cann would do when he was released.

Bud used the alarm clock by the bed to be sure she was up and in the kitchen at seven. As it happened, she beat Brenda there by ten minutes and was trying to figure out how to use the coffee machine.

“Aren’t you the early bird?” Brenda said. “Here. Like this.”

She showed Bud how to use the coffee maker. “Sometimes it’s persnickety. It’s a six thousand dollar machine. Thinks it’s a racehorse, but all we really need here is a mule. The guys don’t know great coffee from spit. I don’t know why Brant insists on havin’ the best of everything, but he does. Nothin’s too good for these big babies you’ve signed on to take care of. Brant lived here most of his life. Raised Brash here, too. But when Brand and Garland came to Austin, Brant got his own place.”

“Brash has a twin, but they didn’t grow up together?”

“Oh, darlin’. That’s a story. Let’s get breakfast out of the way then you and I’ll sit down and visit for a bit.”

Bud grinned, thinking, how bad could a job be that started off with gossip?

“Today I’m makin’ the blow-it-all-the-way-out big hit breakfast that’s gonna make ‘em love you more than their real mamas.”

Bud giggled. “Okay.”

“Get yourself an apron. You know where they are. Now you don’t have to do laundry for these boys unless you want the extra money. Couple of ‘em’ll pay you to get out of doin’ for themselves.” She shook her head. “Shit. They can be lazy fuckers. But you do have to launder the aprons and kitchen towels. I usually throw ‘em in with my own stuff. Saves me time.”

Bud nodded. “What’s the blow-it-all-the-way-out big hit breakfast?”

“Christ, you got a good memory. That’s gonna be a help. ‘Cause the sooner you’re the rubber meetin’ the road, the sooner I can get outta here and be with my sweetie.”

Bud smiled. “What’s he like?”

Brenda stopped setting things out on the counter long enough to get a dreamy look on her face. “Handsome. Quiet.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Bud. “Hung. With buns of steel.” Bud couldn’t help but laugh at that last part. “He’s carryin’ a little extra above the belt, too. He likes his beer. But nothin’ wrong with that. You know?” Bud didn’t know. She was eighteen and interested in flat tummies with well-defined abs, but she nodded to be polite. “He’s steady. Even-tempered. In for the long haul. You know, all the things a right-headed woman wants.”

Bud found herself continuing to nod without even realizing she was doing it.

“So about breakfast…” Brenda said.

“You got me off track by talking about buns and…”

“Dick.”

“Um, yeah. I think we need to separate those conversations. Back to the BIATWO breakfast.”

“BIATWO. I love it,” Brenda said. “Look here. It’s so simple it’ll make you cry. You just get these breaded chicken filets out of the frozen chicken and fish section at the HEB. You bake ‘em in the oven for twenty, twenty-five minutes. Now at the same time, you’re poppin’ Eggo waffles out of that row of toasters there.” Brenda took a stack of eight plates and separated them so that they were eight individual plates sitting at the end of the island/table. She then pulled two kinds of syrup out of the refrigeration unit and set them next to the plates. “Grab eight paper napkins out of that drawer right there.” She set two coffee mugs down by the plates. “Put eight forks in here and eight butter knives in here.”

While Bud was doing that, Brenda went on. “Now here’s the part that’s gonna make you swoon. All you have to do is put those Eggo waffles on a plate, set a chicken filet on top, and let the takers squeeze out their syrup of choice. Sounds simple. Is simple. But they will think you’re the greatest thing since the vagina was invented.”

Bud couldn’t help but laugh at the outrageous things Brenda said. Brenda was causing Bud to wonder, even if she could do the work, if she would ever develop the larger-than-life personality that Brenda wielded so effortlessly, and she wondered if that was what was required to ride herd on a bunch of bikers armed with tortilla chips.

Just as she’d said, the bikers wandered in between seven thirty and nine, grabbed a plate, poured syrup on the chicken and waffles with various expressions of approval that all meant, “Oh boy! Chicken and waffles!”

As she and Brenda cleaned up from breakfast, Brenda talked nonstop about such things as how the second dishwasher door could stick sometimes and how Brant was a stickler for cleanliness in the kitchen. Brenda wore her hair pulled back into a ponytail, then netted that into a bun. The result made her look more like the cover of Town and Country than biker club cook.

“So I suggest you find a way to keep that pretty hair of yours out of the food or you may see the ugly side of the prez.”

Bud was pretty sure she didn’t want to see the ugly side of the prez. “Okay. I like what you’ve done. Maybe I’ll try that.”

“Honey, it’s like the chicken and waffles. Easy breezy but oh so good.”

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