Danny inhales deep, swallows his pride, runs a hand over his face. Injured and embarrassed, he seems to realize the error of his ways. Takes the proffered hand. Standing up, he looks at Hunter and works his mouth for a minute, struggling to find the words he wants. “Sorry,” he finally says.

“No need to apologize to me. It’s your girl you should be making up to.”

Looking pissed off and beaten, to his girl Danny says, “Sorry. Got a little carried away.”

“Booze talk,” she tells him. “You’re hotheaded, always get carried away.”

To ease tensions, Hunter says, “Let me buy you-all a beer.”

It seems crazy, when Hunter reflects on it, that the woman his father most respected—his wife!—up and left him when Hunter wasn’t much older than three or four. He doesn’t remember much about her, just flashes of images he tries to piece together. He had never seen her again.

Seated back at the bar, Danny and his girl pass on the beer. Chastened, he holds the door for her on the way out.

Al sets everyone’s beers before them. He says, “Don’t get why folks gotta treat others with no respect. Takes a lot less energy just to be nice and treat others right.”

Hunter thinks about his ex-boss. What a tool. He had treated everyone like shit, even his dog. Some folks just had to learn things the hard way. “I’ll drink to that.”

“You know, I treat every customer that comes in here the same, regardless of how shitty or nice they are.”

Hunter says, “My father always taught me, good or bad, kill ’em with kindness. Someone wants to be rude, selfish, or flat-out ignore you, speak to them with a smile. Look them in the eye and say hi, ask them how they’re doing. Feed them goodwill.”

“Sounds like you had a good dad.”

Lost in thought. More than once over the years, Hunter had questioned how good his father had been. This trip has opened his eyes. Forced him to reflect, to recall memories. Situations and lessons he had learned without realizing it. Where they came from. His moral values. Discipline. It came from his father. From Hank. And he says to Al, “I did.” When he was around.

After paying for their food and beers and hitting the head, Hunter, Itch, and Nugget fire their bikes up, buckle their helmets on, and head back down the road. Alcohol hangs heavy on everyone’s judgment, the air mixing with the beer buzz. Gripping the handlebars, feeling the power of the bike under him, Hunter can’t get Blake out of his mind. Stopping at the bar, having a few beers, and eating had let him forget, step outside himself for a bit. Abandon those thoughts. But they are back in full force now. Hours pass.