Page 13 of Point of Infinity
Reid gestured toward me.
“I’ll have pancakes and bacon.” I handed her the menu.
“Ham and cheese omelet and wheat toast.”
“I’ll be right back with your food.” She collected his menu and scurried off.
“So?”
“So what?”
“Why did you become a biker?” I poured cream and sugar into my coffee. I didn’t bother stirring it, just took a tentative sip. It was hot and strong.
“My father was a biker and my best friend’s father was a biker, and it seemed inevitable.” He carried a hint of regret in his tone.
“So, you didn’t choose the life.”
“The life chose me?” He shook his head. “Naw. I wanted it. I admired the mission, the camaraderie, the family you get to choose.”
“I think that’s what the mafia says, too.” I wiped my mouth. “It’s all about la familia.”
“Okay, so you’re a fan of bikers and the mafia.” He leaned back. “I bet you listen to true crime podcasts in your spare time.”
“Never hurts to stay well informed about the world.”
“The criminal world.” He nodded.
“Well, not like I’ll be living on Park Avenue anytime soon.” I looked out at the flat horizon.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Arizona.”
“You still got family out there?”
The waitress waddled over, balancing a tray on her shoulder. She served our breakfast without a word, refilled our coffees, and walked away.
“Yeah, my parents are still there.” I never fit in with my government-issued family, but I missed them. They did not know where I was or what I had planned. It was better to leave them out of it. They were good people.
Okay, Kenzie, focus.
“Where are you from?”
“Morristown, New Jersey.” He spun his knife like he did last night. “Born and raised.”
“You said your father was the president of the Infinity Kings?”
“Yeah, he got killed by a rival gang several years ago.” Now he had an emotion. “It was a long time ago.” He scratched his right forearm with his left hand. “I never really got the full story of how he died.”
“Do you want to know?” I picked up my fork. “I mean, wouldn’t you want to know and do something about it if you could?”
“How do you know I haven’t already?” He raised his left eyebrow.
I cut a piece of my pancake and put it in my mouth to stop myself from talking.
“I assume being born into it, you were fully aware of what you were getting into.” I tasted the bacon. “Yum, this is good.”
Or maybe I hadn’t had a decent meal in months. I’d been living off scraps at the diner and gas station snacks.
