“Tell me what you know about this Rare Breed,” Ike said.
Buddy Lee frowned. “Why the fuck you asking about them crazy motherfuckers?”
“About five of them came by the shop today. They were asking about a friend of theirs. They were packing pipes and sawed-off pool cues to jog my memory. Now, who do you think their friend was? I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count,” Ike said.
Buddy Lee let out a low long whistle.
“Shit. He’s in that compost pile from last night, ain’t he? Goddamn, I really could use that drink,” Buddy Lee said.
“Yeah.”
Buddy Lee rubbed his face before he answered Ike’s question.
“They one-percenters. Got chapters all up and down the East Coast. They mainly run guns and meth through their clubhouses and out at truck stops. I used to run with some boys that did a little business with them. Moving guns around. Handling some of their meth. They serious operators. They say you can’t get a full patch unless you can prove you done some wet work for the club. They not skinheads, but they ain’t big fans of people who look like you or live like Isiah and Derek. You sure it was the Breed?” Buddy Lee asked.
“I got a good look at the patch on one of them when I put a machete to his throat,” Ike said. Buddy Lee leaned back in his chair until the front legs came off the floor. When all four legs were on the ground again he exhaled. It had a moist tone.
“A fucking machete. Jesus Christ. You really are crazier than an outhouse rat, ain’t ya? I wish I’d been there to see it. Yeah, I used to party with some of them boys. They ain’t the type to let that shit go. How you think they got a line on you, anyways?” Buddy Lee asked.
“The other one from last night must have noticed my truck. We shouldn’t have parked so close to the goddamn house. That was a simp move,” Ike said.
“Yeah, I didn’t think about that, either. I guess we been out the game a long time.”
“Too long,” Ike said. Buddy Lee drummed his fingers on the table.
“From now on we use my truck. It’s got four bald tires and I’m holding the door on with baling wire, but it’ll get us where we need to go,” Buddy Lee said.
“And where’s that? What you think we should do next?” Ike asked. He had his own idea, but he wanted to see where Buddy Lee’s head was at.
“Hell, if I know. I’m still trying to get my mind right. I can’t for the life of me see how the Rare Breed fit into this,” Buddy Lee said. He sat back in his chair. Ike turned and stared out the window over his sink. He could see the boxwoods that formed a hedgerow that separated his house from the empty mobile home next door. It would have been nice if he could pretend that he and Isiah had planted those together in a Hallmark movie moment. Nice but a lie. The day he’d put them in, Isiah had come by to see Mya to tell her about his new job. Ike had stayed outside taking his time with the shrubs. At a certain point in their relationship, all their interactions had started ending in either arguments or evasion.
“You know how they fucking fit into this. They killed our boys. I don’t know why, and right now I don’t even care. One of them motherfuckers from that club stood over Isiah and Derek and blew their fucking heads off,” Ike said. Saying it felt cathartic. At last there was a target in his crosshairs. A face he could put on the bogeyman that stalked Isiah in Ike’s nightmares.
“Yeah. That was the first thing popped in my mind when you said they came by your place. I just…” Buddy Lee let the end of the sentence float between them.
“What?” Ike said.
“It just don’t make no sense. If Isiah was working on a story about some guy Tangerine was seeing, what’s that got to do with the Breed? Why would Derek be pissed off about that?”
“Maybe she’s one of their old ladies and she saw some shit she shouldn’t have seen. Maybe she was talking to Isiah about flipping on them,” Ike said.
“You don’t know these girls. Old ladies don’t snitch. Even if they get dumped. Them MC’s are a like a cult. Their Kool-Aid would make Jim Jones jealous,” Buddy Lee said. Ike shifted in his chair and crossed his legs.
“You sound like you can’t believe your buddies shot our kids,” Ike said. Buddy Lee narrowed his eyes until they were nearly slits.
“They ain’t my goddamn buddies. But I know them and I can’t see them killing Derek and Isiah over a story for a gay website that maybe fifteen people have ever heard of. Plenty of magazines and newspapers and shit have done write-ups on the Breed. Hell, they got some of the headlines framed in their clubhouses. I just can’t see Derek getting all bent out of shape because a biker’s old lady got dumped,” Buddy Lee said. Ike put his forefinger to his lip.