“Sure thing,” Snarl said, pulling his laundry from the dryer and tugging on a plain black T-shirt that fit him much better than Granny’s had.
“How is it that Granny allows you to sit in her chair? She never lets anyone sit in her chair. Not even her husbands.”
Snarl chuckled. “The first time I sat on her couch, I almost busted the frame in two. It’s one of the Swedish flat-pack deals, that isn’t fit for Vikings despite its Nordic origins. After that near disaster, she makes me sit on the only piece of furniture that’s steel reinforced.”
“My Granny. The great solver of problems.”
Snarl then reached into the closet, pulled out a leather vest that was covered in patches, and put it on. I couldn’t make out the patch on the back, but one patch on the front read SNARL and on the opposite side, another said NOMAD.
“You’re abiker,” I said, my blood running cold.
“I am,” he replied. “Do you ride?”
I shook my head. “Not really afan, to be honest.” Curiosity and attraction were now giving way to fear.
“My club rides out of Monument, but I like to stay in Denver when I’m around,” he said.
“Can you tell me how it is that you and my grandmother know one another?”
“We’re neighbors and we hang out together sometimes.”
“Youhang out? My granny hangs out with a biker?”
Snarl smiled. “On occasion, yes, she does. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the sink is fixed, and my clothes are dry so I’m gonna go say goodbye to Shirley and then I’ll leave the two of you to catch up.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, following Snarl back into the living room. “I’mgonna need a little more information here. How is it exactly that a biker has managed to befriend my eighty-nine-year-old grandmother?”
“I live upstairs,” he replied.
“So, what is this? Are you a part of some dirtbag biker gang that gets elderly, vulnerable, women who live alone hooked on opiates and then supply them once they’re addicted?”
“Hold on a minute,” Snarl said. “You seem like a really nice person, and you clearly love your Granny, but there’s nothin’ shady going on here.”
“Snarly and I watch the Wheel together whenever he’s not at work,” Granny interjected. “Sometimes Jeopardy too, but not the celebrity one. Snarly says they dumb the questions down too much for the Hollywoodassholes.”
“When I moved into the apartment above Shirley, she baked me welcome cookies. So, you could say that she was the one who befriended me.”
“My Granny lured you here with cookies?” I huffed, settling my hands on my hips. “That’s your story?”
“It’s the truth,” he said. “I moved in, and Shirley made me ‘welcome cookies.’”
“Why are you two talking about me like I’m not here?” Granny asked to no reply.
“Welcome cookies? What are you talking about?” I demanded. “What kind of cookies were they?”
Snarl smiled wide. “They were delicious. Chocolate chip and pistachio. I’d never had a chocolate chipcookie with pistachios in ’em before, but I’ll tell you, they were amazing.”
My head snapped to Granny. “Howcouldyou?”
“What dear?” she asked innocently.
“You made him my boo-boo cookies?” I hissed.
Snarl laughed. “What are boo-boo cookies?”
“Whenever I’d get hurt, playing with my sister, or I’d do poorly on a test I studied hard for, or a boy I liked didn’t like me back, Granny would bake me a batch of chocolate chip and pistachio cookies. She called them my ‘boo-boo cookies.’ Now, apparently, every drifter in town gets a batch just for showing up.”
“Drifter?” Snarl laughed. “Drug dealer, I could understand the misunderstanding, but a drifter? Is thatwhat you think I am?”
