They ride for another two hours, following the highway into Effingham. Everyone is a little hungover and sleep deprived and could do with a little pick-me-up. Some caffeine. They park the bikes in front of Joe Sipper’s Café and walk up to the long glass-windowed counter with blue anodized aluminum along the bottom. A display case of cakes and baked sweets. Hunter asks the cute ponytailed brunette sporting a fake-and-bake tan for the strongest brew they have: a red eye with two shots of espresso. He turns to Itch and Nugget. “Guys want the same?”

“Sounds good, brother,” they reply.

The girl tells them to take a seat, saying it will be about five minutes.

Seated along the wall, they watch the midday patrons—reading their papers, eating sandwiches, sipping caffeine, and tapping on laptops. All three travelers are tired from too much booze and drama. They could use a nap at a rest area, but Hunter wants to make the border of Missouri. Find a hotel and clean up for the push through Kansas, Colorado, and into Utah.

A guy comes in—clean-cut, dark umber skin tone, wearing khakis and a Yankees baseball T-shirt. The girl behind the counter says, “How we doing today, Coach Wiethop?”

“Oh, surviving. How about you, Jenna?”

“Steady. You want the usual?”

“Yeah, please. Two shots of espresso and six ounces of hot water and room for milk, but no milk.”

Turning around, the coach makes eye contact with Hunter, glances over at Itch and Nugget. Takes in the tattoos. The look of road-worn heathens with a hangover. Then back to Hunter. He leans an elbow on the counter. “Passing through?”

“Yeah,” Hunter said.

“Those must be your bikes out front.”

“What gave it away?” Hunter deadpans.

“You guys part of a club?”

“Naw, just gearheads. My father passed away. Taking a long road trip to California.”

He said, “Sorry for your loss. Where you coming from?”

“North Carolina, but we stopped in Indiana last night—tried to visit an old friend.”

Stepping over from the counter, he puts out his hand. “I’m Rod. Everyone calls me ‘Coach.’ Teach English and coach baseball and basketball down at the high school.”

Shaking his hand. “Hunter. And these are my buddies, Nugget and Itch.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rod says, shaking their hands.

“From here?” Nugget asked.

“Naw. Went to college in Evansville. Took a job here after graduating and never left.”

“Coffee’s ready, Coach,” Jenna says. “And so are your new buddies’.”

Rod grabs two coffees. “Not sure which is whose.”

Hunter stands up. “They’re all the same,” he says, passing them to Nugget and Itch.

“Wanna grab a table?” Rod asks.

“Sure,” Hunter says, walking over to a table. The four men pull their chairs out and sit down. “Got the day off?” Hunter asks.

“I wish. Took a half day. Some legal issues. School’s trying to railroad my ass.”

“Sounds like it sucks pretty bad.”