Page 69 of Nuts

“At least we got to meet each other,” she said.

I know it wasn’t what she wanted, but it was really all he had to offer. He seemed to be a man of few words, and I had my doubts we’d spend the day in the clubhouse chewing the fat about bikes, booze, and bitches.

We did stay for another hour or so, and then said our goodbyes.

As we saddled up, Axton stood off to the side and looked my bike over. “Good lookin’ scoot.”

“Appreciate it.”

Smudge pulled on her helmet, and then turned toward Axton. “Do you eat Vietnamese noodle soup?”

He grinned. “I’ve been known to.”

“Any good places in Wichita?”

“There’s a couple, yeah.”

“Any of them been around for twenty years or so?”

“One,” he said. “My Tho. Fellas that run it ride. Good people, good noodles, and a good atmosphere. Family owned and operated. Biker friendly, too.”

“Thanks,” she said.

She looked at me. “Noodles?”

The thought of eating at a place her father had ridden 1,500 miles to eat at was intriguing.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I responded.

* * *

The small building on a corner lot with a dirt parking lot wasn’t at all what I expected. After parking the bike, we walked inside.

The inside of the restaurant was spotless. We chose an empty seat, and were greeted promptly by a man in his forties.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Water and coffee, times two,” I said.

He gave a nod and then motioned toward the center of the table. “Menus are right there. I’ll be back with your drinks.”

As we looked over the menus, he returned.

“How long has this place been here?” Smudge asked.

“Twenty-five years,” he said.

“How long have you worked here?” she asked.

He smiled. “Twenty-five years.”

“Do you ride?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. Mine’s parked out back, right beside my brother’s.”

“You ever heard of Billy The Snake Schreiber?” she asked.

He gave a sharp nod. “Yes, Ma’am.”