I fucking love it. I love this stupid bike. I love my brother. I love being alive.
Southie traffic opens up, and there they are. My brothers. The trio clustered together in the parking lot. Dom’s black bike cuts sharply in the sunshine. Holli’s Ducati gleams obnoxiously bright. He fucking loves the attention that cheer brings. Such a pussy.
My man Diego is leaning back with that calm Hawaiian swagger like he’s the ocean in human form. Chill, lowkey, and an overall good dude. They turn in unison when they see us. Mas hits the curb, and I almost bounce out. Grabbing the sides and holding the fuck on.
Dom’s visor snaps toward me. He jolts so violently that he almost drops his bike. Both feet slam to the ground. The helmet is yanked off.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” he’s already yelling when we’re pulling in. “YOU LOOK LIKE A GODDAMN MCDONALD’S HAPPY MEAL!”
His stare rakes down the red-and-yellow Aprilia, the oversized matching sidecar, my flame mohawk helmet, and the giant leg cast sticking out like an uneaten fry.
“And it even COMES with the FUCKING CLOWN!”
Holli folds over his tank, laughing, helmet dangling from his handlebars. Diego does that deep, chesty Hawaiian laugh like he’s watching the funniest shit he’s seen all year.
“Kokami!”
His favorite word.
Everyone is crying like a little bitch. Makes me even happier to be alive. I throw double gun hands up at Dominic, who’s actually smiling for once. And looking creepy as fuck doing it.
“YOU TALKIN’ TO ME, DOMMY DARKO? HUH?! YOU TALKIN’ TO ME?!”
Dom storms closer, boots thudding, circles the sidecar like it personally offended him. Stops. Points at the bright yellow stripe.
“This is the Hamburglar’s getaway car.”
Hollister wheezes. Diego wipes tears from his eyes. I slap the sidecar proudly.
“This shit’s FIRE. You’re a jealous bitch, Darko Dommy, wanting your own.”
Dom stares at me, shaking his head. Mas comes around to hug him. Tight with a hard back slap. Shit went down with them. I don’t know too much, but I guess he wasn’t around much in the early hospital days. Holli and Diego straightened his ass out. It’s all good. Probably better by the way Mas drapes his arm over Dominic’s shoulder. Holding him close. And surprise, surprise, Darko Dommy doesn’t pull away. Not immediately.
“If you crash in this, we’re letting you die,” Dom grumbles.
Mas slaps Dom’s chest once before letting him go.
“Hell already rejected him, so here he is.”
This is the first time my brother has joked about what happened. It’s good. Relief in his face and shoulders. He needs today as much as I do. Maybe more.
I cup my hands around my mouth. “LOVE YOU TOO, GRIMACE!”
Dom flips me off, then walks back to his bike without looking back.
Perfect fucking day.
Diego and Holli walk side by side. Both are sizing me up. I’m still the hottest of the group. My road rash will scar over and make me look like a fucking super villain. I can’t wait to see the scars from my screws and shit in my leg. My limp might have more swagger than Diego’s.
“WHAT’S UP, BITCHES!”
I try to stand up, fall on my ass. My brother jumps into action to help me and my crutches out. I yank off my helmet and toss it on the seat. Once my foot hits the pavement, Diego’s hugging the shit out of me. Getting all sentimental and stuff.
“Looking good, Em.”
I hug him right back because why not? He’s my brother, and sometimes you just need to hug things out. He claps me on the back a couple of times, shakes me, and finally lets go.
“Glad to see your ass is keeping up with the therapy like we talked about.”
