48 Hour Short Story Contest

The man rode his black and chrome Harley Davidson without a single clue as to where he was headed. He just knew he was on the road and that’s where he belonged. With the hot sun singing his back and the wind blowing through his hair; he was an original biker from the old days. The good old days when the picture on your leather jacket and the name of your clan meant something, usually something to be feared. His leather jacket had a picture of a lone wolf and anyone who might have known him called him such.

Wolfe remembered when Women use to hide behind curtains and men would jerk out of their seats when they heard his bike roaring down the black asphalt. He would walk into a bar with his black leather jacket, matching black leather pants, and black leather boots. His boots were the kind that had the silver spur on the back, so when he walked you would hear a distinct clink. Oh yeah, he was bad ass with a capital B!

Wolfe glanced up the road to see an old burger joint. Not a McDonald’s, or Burger King, Or Wendy’s, but a nice old burger joint that served real meat as hamburgers and fat french fries instead of those skinny little things. Wolfe could already feel his mouth watering as he sped closer to the restaurant.

Parking his bike Wolfe stopped short when a white dog with big brown floppy ears and brown stripes across his back was standing right in his path with his lips pulled back and a distinct growl coming from his throat. Wolfe narrowed his eyes at the hound dog and slowly crouched down until he was eye level with it. The hound dog barked once. Wolfe did his own imitation of a growl and jumped at the dog. The dog flinched and limped away. Wolfe felt sorry for the mongrel, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

Wolfe stood up and walked into the restaurant sitting at the counter. He didn’t even glance at the menu or the other patrons in the joint. He knew what they thought and felt from years of being on the road.

“What can I get ya, mistah?”

Wolfe looked at the pretty young waitress. He let his eyes rove over her face noticing that her nose was too long and her chin too sharp. Though if you don’t look at each of her flaws, put together she looked very striking. Wolfe eyes lowered over her perky breasts and the bra that barely held them and lower to a flat stomach and then nothing as the counter was in his way. “Burger and fries.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Coke.”

As Wolfe waited he started to think about his life. He loved the open road the freedom to go whenever he wanted, the freedom to do whatever he wanted. He had done a few odd jobs and had some money in a bank back in some city. The last he rode past his “known” address the bank statement printed that he had 150k just sitting there and with the interest it was going up every month. It didn’t help that he was actually getting paid by some businesses who would deposit money into the account every odd month or so. With that much he could actually start a normal life.

This is what’s been bothering Wolfe. He had been a biker since 16 and on the road received his GED. At 50 he really should be thinking about finding a good woman raising children. Wolfe wasn’t always a lone wolf. At one time there were 20 in his gang; some died, but most found women, or tire of always being on the road. Wolfe never did recruit more or let anyone else join in. Now there was only himself. The last of the Lone Wolves.

“Here ya go, mistah. Is there anything else?” The waitress placed his food and drink in front of him.

Wolfe shook his head and began eating. Wolfe ate like he always had – fast. Within minutes the food was gone, but his problem was still there. If he didn’t have that money he wouldn’t be in this predicament, but he wasn’t just going to give away good hard earned money.

Wolfe heard a scratch at the door and saw the hound dog trying to get in. Wolfe looked down at his plate and saw a few pieces of meat have escaped his mouth. Wolfe left money on the counter, grabbed those few morsels, and went to feed the dog.

“Don’t feed it, sugah.”

Wolfe looked at the waitress. He was going to ask why, but she must have read the questions in his eyes.

“When ya leave it’ll just starve a’gin. I donno how long it’s been since da poor thang had any food. I donno why it ain’t died yet. It musta found some food somewhere.”

And that’s when Wolfe had an idea. He opened the door and fed the meat to the dog over the woman’s objections. He flipped opened his phone and dialed his lawyer. He was patched through after a brief pause. “Mr. Asani. I have a dog in ….”

The woman growled, “Olathe, Kansas.”

“Olathe, Kansas. His name is Wolfe. I would like a trust in his name and I’m paying,” Wolfe looked at the woman’s nametag, “Chrissy $2,000 a month to take care of it. Can you do this for me?” Wolfe waited, “How long?” Wolfe waited again, “No, no, she can do it. Yeah a separate account, start with 5. Thanks.”

“You have a lawyer,” Chrissy asked incredulously.

“I have no family. I have to have someone to make sure I get a proper burial. Look I’m going to write down a number and a name. Call it tonight so you can receive information over night giving you details on the dog’s account and how to take care of him. I don’t care how you handle him, but he must have a collar that says Wolfe as his name. Also someone will come every so often to make sure the dog is being cared for properly. If you do this then when I do past on all of my earnings will be yours, at the moment I only have $100,000 in the bank.”

Chrissy just stared at him. This couldn’t be real who would spend so much on a mutt. Chrissy could only watch as the man in black grabbed some meat off another plate that a patron hadn’t finished and fed it to the dog. The dog ate it graciously and licked the man’s fingers, wiping it clean. Then the hound dog jumped up on the man and licked his face kissing him.

“Aiight, come on Wolfe, we have ta get ya shots and all cleaned up if we’s gonna keep ya healthy.” Chrissy walked inside telling the cook she was done for the night and had business to attend. She came back out to see the big Wolfe and the little Wolfe over by a huge bike. She walked towards them and shook her head.

“All dis for a dog.”

“All my life I’ve been called a dog and no one’s ever helped me. I want to help him. Here!” Wolfe pressed a few hundred dollar bills into Chrissy’s hand. “This should start the process.” Wolfe kicked start his bike and roared down the street. Even if it was just a dog he knew the money would go to Chrissy too. He had helped two people and he got to stay on the road where he liked it.

Word Count: 1,279


Thank You MoMo for the Siggy Picture! *hugs and kisses*
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **