from the original owner, renaming it for his daughter’s favorite candy. He’d always expected lawyers to show up about trademark and other such shit, but it never happened. After several years, he’d installed the biggest candy dispenser he could find, filling it to the top with jelly beans.
Having a good idea where it was located, he made a turn at an old railroad station, then at an abandoned water mill. Half a mile away, a bright red building appeared out of nowhere, a huge American flag at one corner, the Arizona flag at another. Both appeared to be in pristine condition. On the roof, a neon sign announced Jelly Bean’s Bar. As he’d been told, the place wasn’t hard to spot.
Parking near a couple of bikes, he spent a few minutes admiring the custom artwork on each. Two trucks, one car, and a van signaled few customers were inside.
Shoving open the heavy front door made of carved wood and wrought iron, he stepped into almost complete darkness. And silence.
The bar was long, with twelve red leatherette seats. Two men sat talking to the older bartender of indeterminable age. Three ate lunch at a corner table, and two others conversed quietly at the other side of the room. Chaos took a stool at the bar not far from the other customers.
A minute passed before the bartender broke off his conversation and walked toward him. “What can I get you?”
His voice was raspy. Chaos didn’t know if it was from too many cigarettes, just old age, or both. The skin on his forearms was dark and cracked, appearing tough as leather.
“A beer. Whatever’s on tap.”
Filling a glass, the bartender placed it before him. “Name’s Gus.”
“Good to meet you, Gus. I’m Chaos.”
“One of those MC guys, I suspect.” His voice held no censure. “Get a lot of you folks out here.”
“None today?” Chaos sipped the beer, letting out a long sigh.
“Nope. Those guys over there,” Gus pointed to the men seated down the bar, “are weekend riders. Time away from their wives and kids. They won’t bother you.”
Chaos tipped his glass toward Gus. “Good to know.”
“Speak up if you need anything.” Moving off, Gus returned to his spot by the other bikers.
Resting his arms on the bar, Chaos relaxed, allowing himself to think about last night while sipping his beer. He didn’t know how much time passed before Gus placed a fresh beer, burger, and fries in front of him.
“Eat what you want. It’s a long ride back to your clubhouse.” Sauntering away, Gus didn’t wait for a response.
The instant he took in the aroma of the cooked meat, his stomach growled. Lifting his head to the clock on the wall, he saw two o’clock, realizing he’d had a cup of coffee and nothing else all day.
Taking a huge bite, his taste buds reacted to the smoky, BBQ flavor. “Best burger in a long time, Gus.”
The old man raised a hand in response, going back to his conversation.
Halfway through the burger, Chaos stilled at the bright light streaming inside from behind him. A single set of heavy boots pounded on the wood floor. Chaos cursed himself for not taking a stool at the end with his back to the wall. Too late to change now.
When Gus leaned down to pull up a sawed off shotgun, Chaos reached for his own gun.
“We don’t want no trouble in here.” Gus lifted the gun.
Well, shit, Chaos thought as he slowly pulled his Sig 9MM from its holster, resting it on his thigh.
“I only want a beer, old man. No trouble.”
Chaos went rigid at the voice. What were the odds? His breath quickened, as did his heartbeat, but he refused to turn around. Fingers twitching on the grip of the 9MM, he searched for calm, a way to leave without conflict.
“Mind if I sit here.”
Fuck, yeah, I mind. “Up to you.” His skin crawled at the man sitting within inches of him.
“I’ll have what Chaos is having.”
Any thoughts of the man not recognizing him vanished. He’d have to deal with whatever happened right here in a small bar owned by an octogenarian. If Gus got hurt…
He chanced a look at the man, but he’d been right. “What do you want, Einstein?”
“Can’t a father have lunch with his son?”
The question caught Chaos off guard. He hadn’t felt like anybody’s son in a long time. “Today’s not a good time. Call ahead next time.” He started to reach into a pocket for money, stopping when Einstein’s hand landed on