Hawk in front of me and the nigger behind, we pushed among the motorcycles.

I stopped at the one with the dead cat.

“Move!” The nigger pushed me from the back.

Hawk’s was another one—the one with the flag.

Hawk’s hands—red knuckles, black-lined cuticles, crescents of black at the front—seized the black rubber handles. The bike wobbled back on its kickstand, clunked and settled like a black-and-chrome lion.

“Can we all fit on there?” the nigger asked. Hawk smacked the seat with one hand and grinned back over his frayed denim shoulder—it had come apart since I’d seen him last at Pedro’s, and he’d laced the frayed cloth up with rawhide, still bright orange and new-looking. “The cocksucker’s just a little shit. Squeeze ’im in between us.” Then he frowned. “You gonna have to watch out for your bare feet, nigger. You hit the muffler, and you gonna burn your damn toes off—”

“Man,” the nigger said, “I rid the fuckers before—”

“I mean you should really have some boots. ’Cause even sneakers’ll melt if they get down on the—”

“Come on, motherfucker!”

“Sure thing.” Hawk swung his leg over the seat. “If you say so.” He twisted the throttle. Muscle rolled under the dragon and the swastika.

“Get on,” the nigger told me.

I did.

The nigger climbed on behind.

The nigger’s belly slid against my back; my belly flattened against Hawk’s denim. I put my arms around Hawk to hold on. One hand was on denim, the other on his hairy side. I could feel the skin stretch when he breathed.

The nigger put one hand around on Hawk’s other side; with the other he held onto me, settling in behind.

At the bar door, Denny staggered out.

He looked like he was drunk. But I knew he hadn’t drunk very much. His head moved around like a blind man’s, sniffing for smoke. Only his eyes, a crazy, bright blue, were wide. His hands sort of jerked and fell and jerked again at his sides.

Hawk rose up in front of me, bounced down, stamping the kickstart—

I thought we were going to fall.

But the engine slugged over and roared.

“Y’on tight?” Hawk called.

“Move your damn ass!” the nigger said. “That crazy bastard’s comin’ out here. I don’t want him seein’ which way we go.”

“Shit,” Hawk drawled. We jerked forward. “That kid, the shape he’s in, he couldn’t see a fuckin’ fist comin’ at his goddamn jaw!” We leaned away to the left, spun around, ka-klammed! off the sidewalk, and came around again.

We practically ran over Denny’s sneakers.