Josie's homemade pies were a point of personal pride for her, and a big hit with the customers. The daily specials did not change from week to week during the seasons, and were posted on a large board over the long, enamel topped counter. Her reverse saddle shoes squeaked just a bit on the red and white checkered floor, and Josie took a moment to tie her apron around her trim waist and adjust the nametag over her left breast. The deep green of her uniform complimented her thick strawberry blonde braid well and made her nearly aqua eyes even more stunning. Looking around, she assessed the three tables of regulars with a smile and went to talk to Debbie, the older lady who worked the lunch to early evening shift.
Debbie rubbed at her lower back through her pink dress and sniffed with the air of a career waitress. Couple kids throwing straws earlier. That's been sitting since morning, and you know how stale tea tastes. Finishing your tables before you take off to see that ornery husband of yours? Josie had just finished stirring sugar and ice into the deep brown tea when a black Harley roared onto the lot. Knowing that Debbie was itching to head home, Josie checked to make sure her ordering pad and some pens were in the right pocket of her white apron before moving around the wait station and into the open dining room.
The man sliding into the booth along the wall between the entrance and fire exit nearly had her tripping over her own feet. He was bald, his caramel skin a bit worn and weathered from being exposed to the sun so consistently. Deep brown eyes looked nearly black from where he sat, and they tracked her knowingly as she recovered and moved over the polished floor. The smirk on his almost cruel lips nearly distracted her enough that the tattoo of a snake slithering over the crown of his head took her by surprise. How are you this evening? Dark eyes flicked over her, and she felt as if the curve of her breasts and the dip and swell of her waist had just been examined and cataloged.
Debbie was hovering behind the half wall of the wait station, worried eyes darting between the new customer and the younger woman. Snorting, Josie rolled her eyes at the concern. Mikey and Big John are in the kitchen.
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Nodding, though the downturned corners of her mouth nearly screamed her disagreement, Debbie pulled her purse over her shoulder and followed Josie back onto the floor. Smiling, Josie wished her a happy anniversary before placing the saucer and steaming mug down on the table. The rough timbre of his voice was somehow soothing and arousing all at once, and Josie felt something low in her abdomen quiver in response.
Forcing a smile, she nodded and headed to the small window that opened into the kitchen. After placing the order, she made a new pot of coffee and began rolling silverware while she waited, angling herself to keep an eye on the mostly empty room. After delivering his meal to the table Josie noticed some more ink peeking out from under the cuffs of his thermal shirt , the man was mostly silent. He would nod when asked if everything tasted okay or if he wanted more coffee.
Josie could only wish her other table was as easy. Just as she put the man's plate down, a group of six young men had entered. Taking up one of the big booths across the room from the lone biker, they had begun a familiar routine. Asking for extras and substitutions that they would then claim to be wrong in order to force the waitress to run between them and the kitchen or wait station. Josie knew from years of experience that this would result in little to no tip and could impact tips from any other tables as the loud group took up more of her time than necessary.
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Taking a moment to refill the tattooed man's cup, Josie couldn't suppress a sigh when the others began calling for her loudly. A thrill tingled down her spine as his work roughened fingers rubbed against the delicate skin at the inside of her wrist. When he simply nodded and let go, Josie hurried to see what the other group thought they needed.
Replacing the carafe on the warmer, she stepped lightly over to the crowded table, noticing that there was trash and ketchup littering its surface. His hair reminded her of Justin Bieber, and she fought back a derisive giggle at his feeble attempts at picking her up.
Living on the Happy Edge of Anarchy by Ryan Long (2013, Paperback)
The biker had moved silently across the floor, and was standing just behind her right shoulder. One glance into the now truly black eyes of the aggressive man in leather had the boys scrambling to get out of the booth. Unfortunately for them, the only way out was past him. Gripping the leader by the back of the neck, he held his hand out to a still motionless Josie. One of the boys made a whining noise from his spot at the back of the booth.
His protests slowly died as the older man stared him down.
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And don't let me see you in here again. When a stack of bills was neatly placed on the table, and the worst of the mess cleaned up, the biker let go of the kid and stood silently as the group fled the restaurant. Smirking to himself, he went back to his table and now cold coffee. When a steaming cup of coffee was placed quietly down in front of him, he followed the arm holding it up to the pretty face of the young waitress.
Understanding the logic, Josie grinned openly.
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Josie smiled and plated it up quickly. Setting it down in front of the man, Josie put her hand out to him. Nodding slightly and letting his head roll back a bit on his shoulders, the man gripped her hand firmly. Happy had spent the day helping Tig and Chibs inspect a few different gun warehouses in the countryside surrounding Charming.
The Mexican women they paid to assemble their guns were doing their jobs well and without complaint for the sparse living conditions, and the men had been satisfied enough to finish by mid-evening. While Tig and Chibs had things to take care of for the mother charter, Happy was free to spend the rest of his day how he saw fit. The open country road with no destination in mind was just what he needed after the last few days of controlled riding and tight deadlines. The warm summer wind in his face smelled of lush greenery and wild flowers, and his empty stomach made itself known just as a large neon sign came into view along the winding road.
There were a few cars and one bike parked toward the rear of Sally's restaurant as he pulled into the lot. The girl who came up to his table was young, but didn't hold herself like jailbait. She had a quiet voice with some sort of southern accent, and she looked him in the eye when she spoke to him. Most bitches didn't do that, preferring to look in his general direction or even at his shoulder or chest while they flirted or simpered. That was more about the cut on his shoulders than him as a person, anyway, and Happy was content to let the club whores do their jobs with or without eye contact.
This wasn't a bitch or a whore though. But the nerdy boy inside Ryan continued to search for a more positive alternative. And so Ryan left the firm to travel the world in During his journey, he met savory and unsavory strangers: Sicilians showed him the joy of routine dinners with loved ones; a WW II photographer in Chicago explained luck matters only when you try; and a Holocaust survivor in New York tutored him on perseverance.
He found that strangers had the best insights into his problems. They called it like it is.
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With their aid, Ryan better understood how to deal with his problems. Being diagnosed with cancer changed that. The cancer enabled Ryan to start letting go of his anger by realizing that it will only make life worse.
Living on the Happy Edge of Anarchy
Ryan starts applying the lessons he learned from the hand full of strangers he met during his travels to make the most out of every second, every minute, and every day of his life. There might not be a quick fix for his — or our — demons. But Ryan finds that consistently nurturing them with warmth and compassion is better than the back of his hand like Frank would. In the end, Ryan comes to peace with the answer he gave Frank that night in Venice Beach. Perhaps, after reading the book, you will find the same strength from the strangers you come across in your daily life, too.
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Ryan graduated from Chicago in He was born in Los Angeles, California. He currently splits his time between New York and California.