Page 88 of Lady Sings the Blues

Maybe he doesn’t believe me, or maybe he picks up escaped kidnapped victims as a matter of course, but if the man feels any concern for my situation, he doesn’t show it.

“Sure,” he answers as if ready to share a little town gossip on an easy Sunday afternoon after church. “Keep it in the glovebox for emergencies. Climb on in,” he drawls even slower, like I hadn’t just told him I’d beenkidnappedandescaped.

Without hesitation, I round the hood of his truck, and press the handle to open the door but with all the rust, the door sticks. And it takes several good tugs to crack it open. Cautiously-relieved tears stream down my cheeks when I finally climb on in and pull the door shut.

My savior leans over and pops open the glove box while he continues at the same speed he’d been traveling before down the dirt road. The signal bars hit three bars while I punch in Beau’s number.

“Hello?” he answers gruffly. It’s so good to hear his voice that I forget to answer. “Hello?” he asks again.

“Beau?” I half whisper, half cry.

“Darlin’?”

“It’s me Beau. We need help.”

“What’s wrong, where’s Crass?”

“I don’t know. H-he got to us, Beau. Liv and Crass are gone. I woke up in a strait jacket…maybe he meant for me to escape, maybe he didn’t.” I keep rambling. “But they’re gone, and I’m in a truck with a nice man who picked me up…I’m scared, Beau.”

“Listen baby girl, put the man on the phone with me. I’m commin’ for ya. Got my word. We’re mobilizin’ now.”

“Okay. Here.” I hand the man the phone. “My fiancé wants to talk with you.”

After the cab fills with several affirmative sounding grunts and head nods that Beau couldn’t possibly see, the old man flips the cell closed and hands it back to me. “Put this back in the box, little lady.” I do immediately. At the same time hearing the snap of the latch on the glovebox the old man speaks up. “I’m supposed to take you somewhere public and stay with you, so we’re heading to IHOP.” The pickup rolls to a stop at a four-way intersection. Dirt having replaced the gravel about a mile back. He idles a few moments and the truck vibrates. Then the old man pulls away from the stop sign. “Feel like pancakes. You feel like pancakes?”

No, I don’t really feel like eating pancakes, I don’t really feel like eating at all. But as I’m currently expecting and the man continues to be so gracious about the situation he’s found himself in from just doing a good deed and stopping—a good deed he’ll probably think twice about repeating from now on thanks to me—who am I to rain on his pancake parade? Thus I answer with an emphatic, “Pancakes sound great.”

About twenty-five minutes later, the old man, who’d introduced himself as Lester Greene, sits across from me pouring a berry-flavored syrup over his second stack of all-you-can-eat pancakes while I continue to pick at the only three stack I’d ordered.

My friends could be dead for all I know.

Crass, he’d lost a lot in his life. We’d had some pretty intense late-night conversations over whiskeys for him and ginger ales for me once I suspected I might be pregnant. I’d come to care for him in these seven weeks like the brother I never had.

And Liv? What would I do without Liv in my life?

The room suddenly goes quiet, the silence pulling me from my thoughts enough that I turn my attention to the door along with the rest of the patrons. That’s when I see Blue, Levi and Blaze scanning the room and let out a gasp of pure relief when Levi’s eyes lock with mine. A Lords cut commands a room. Any room. And these three men, even being prospects, are no different.

Lester Greene stands once they reach our table. The wrinkling around his eyes and pursed lips tell me that even at his age, he’s willing to go to battle to protect me, even in the face of badass bikers.

“You the man I talked to on the phone?” he asks Levi.

“No Sir, he’s been detained on important business. He’s put us in charge of gettin’ Elise back to safety,” Levi says.

Lester Greene turns to me. “You know these boys? You okay with going with them? I’ll have the cops here before they can drag you out to their bikes.”

“Yes, these are my friends. I’m good with going with them. Thank you so much, Lester.” I stand from my seat and walk the two steps to where Lester Greene partially guards me. A farmer in his dirtied farmer’s overalls and red and black-checkered flannel shirt, no weapon, wielding only his sense of decency as his sword.

Respect for Lester Greene. So much respect for Lester Greene that I swipe my thumb over his aged skin, briefly resting my forehead against his soft, silver hair, then kiss his cheek.

“We owe you anything for takin’ care of our girl?” Blue asks.

“No son, you donot.” Those weathered eyes, which had looked so soft on me moments before, turn hard and glaring at Blue. “A man should never need compensation for doing the right thing. And taking care of this lovely young lady was and remains the right thing.”

Levi’s quick to smooth things over. “Not trying to ruffle any feathers, here. We’re just grateful to you and want to show our gratitude. At least let us pay for breakfast. It’s the least we can do for you getting our Elise back to us.”

Without waiting for a response, Levi pulls his wallet, secured to his belt loop by a thick silver chain, from his back pocket and drops two twenties on the table. It’s way more than the price of our breakfast, and Lester only glances ruefully at the bills but doesn’t pick them up, which means our waitress will have a good tip day.

One last goodbye to Lester Greene, and Levi guides me by the hand out to Beau’s pickup. Blue leads and Blaze takes up the tail. I’d say I have badass biker-in-training bodyguards, but who am I kidding. I’ve seen these guys in action. They might not be full brothers yet, but theyarefull badass bikers, nonetheless. And in the same formation they walked me out of the restaurant, Blue mounts his bike, taking off in the lead, then Levi and I follow next in the truck and Blaze on his ride, takes the rear.

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