Page 287 of Devil’s Disciples

“You still haven’t told them?” She gave me a bug-eyed look. “Any of them?”

“Nope.”

“I’m just glad my prayers were answered,” she said. “And that it’s over. But, I won’t bring it up.”

My physical condition had nothing to do with prayers, and everything to do with science. I didn’t miraculously recover from cancer. I’d been misdiagnosed by a doctor who had his head in his ass. Giving God credit for something that no God has control over was ridiculous.

I wiped the lenses of my sunglasses. “Do you really think your God answered your prayers? That you prayed, and that he changed me from having a brain tumor to having nothing?”

She nodded. “I do.”

I chuckled. “Ohhh-kay.”

She stepped away from the motorcycle and gave me a shitty look. “You’re going to tell me after all of that, after going from a brain tumor that was so bad your migraines kept you from sleeping to being completely cured, that you still don’t believe there’s a God looking over you? And, that the very same God didn’t answer the prayers that I asked of him while you were in there getting your tests done?”

“I’m sorry.” I put on my glasses. “I don’t.”

“I’m not going to preach to you about it,” she said. “But will you let me believe what I believe?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

The ride to Goose’s home was silent. Discussions between believers and non-believers never ended well, which was why I’d refused to participate in them in the past. Refusing with Abby was impossible, so I had to accept that such discussions may create tension between us.

Her beliefs, however, weren’t going to become my beliefs. For the time being, I believed in my bracelet, and that was enough to get me through each day.

After coming to a stop in Goose’s drive, Abby pulled off her helmet and lifted her leg over the seat. “It smells good.”

“Goose is a great cook. Basically, the guy’s a chef. He can cook anything. Wait ‘till you taste his smoked turkey. It’s awesome.”

She hung her helmet on the handlebars. “Awesome is the best something can be. You know that, right?”

“Wait ‘till you taste it. You’ll agree.”

Apparently, we were done discussing God. I liked that Abby gave me my space when it came to religion. I hoped she realized it wasn’t my intention to argue about it. Convincing me of the existence of God wasn’t something she – or anyone else – was going to do. In time, I hoped she could find a way to accept that my position on the matter wasn’t something that was going to change.

Goose’s home was a small ranch with an ornate yard that stood out from the rest of the homes on the block. His green thumb was obvious, as his yard was filled with greenery, flowers, and various shrubs that only he could get to grow in Southern California’s climate.

We walked up the drive and to the gate that led to the back yard. As soon as we came into view of everyone in attendance, all eyes were on us. I’d warned the fellas not to swarm her, but I feared they would, regardless. Partially due to her celebrity status, and in part because I had settled down with one woman, I suspected we’d be the center of attention.

Twenty feet into to the yard, Tito stepped off the deck and greeted us.

“Tito,” he extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Abby,” she said. “Are you the cook?”

He shook his head. “Brother Goose is the cook.” He gestured toward the back deck. “He’s the one wearing the apron with the lobster on it.”

Abby glanced in Goose’s direction. He stood beside the grille, talking to Baker and Cash.

“Oh,” she said. “Whatever he’s cooking smells wonderful.”

“He’s not cooking seafood, is he?” I asked.

“It’s kind of a hodgepodge,” Tito said. “Baker wanted seafood, and everyone else wanted barbeque. So, we’re having oysters, lobster, turkey, brisket, and grilled fish of some sort. Maybe trout, I don’t know.”

“I love seafood,” Abby said with a smile.

Baker, Cash, Goose, and Reno craned their necks in our direction. Baker’s girlfriend Andy, and Cash’s wife Kimberly stepped off the deck together, and began walking in our direction.