The Ruffian

I was sitting at Harley’s Diner with Matt. We were about to make a deal that would later cost us more than it made us. But that was later in the night, and somewhere else. I was off booze for a short while, drinking a lemonade, looking at all the truck drivers, cowgirls, and other suspicious characters, waiting for Matt to get enough beer in him and say it was time to go.

A group of bikers was playing pool. One of them caught my interest. He was skinny, lanky, his long hair was going gray. He was shirtless. He had a tattoo across his back. It said: “You may L… But you will not L…” I could not read the last two words of each line. He was telling the other, younger, bikers something, as if they were his students.

Matt got up and stumbled across the room to talk to a girl at the bar, but some guys that were apparently with her started pushing him around. I pulled him away and we headed for the door. I caught a glimpse of the lanky old biker’s tattoo. The missing words were Live and Love, but I do not remember the order anymore.

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