All the Small Moments

presley

Presley pushed open the hip-high wooden saloon doors. After talking with his dad yesterday, he knew he would have to miss school today to fulfill his request. The rain finally spectacularly arrived last night. The water coated everything, including the dust Presley was glad wouldn't coat his motorcycle today.

His Harley, Scarlett, was his most precious item. He would burn down this town if something happened to her. That is what he named his Harley when his dad, Freeman, handed it down to him at age sixteen. The shiny paint glistened in the sun on the best of days. Everything on Scarlett was black, including the powertrain, battery cover, and rockers.

"Come over here, son." Freeman was leaning back in his chair at the prominent round table. His feet were crossed at the ankles, and he already had a small glass of rum beside him.

Presley took out the seat across from him. "Pops, I'm ready."

"Don't fail me. If you want to take over one day, you must prove it to me that you are ready. This is what I am asking of you. Don't reveal it to no one else."

Presley nodded. He knew being the leader's son wouldn't secure his future role. He needed that role to be the leader. Presley had big plans for the Black Toxins.

Freeman slide a folded piece of paper across the table to Presley. He picked it up and read the contents. His dad wanted him to go to the joining county to remind someone about his betrayal against him. This someone was the drug tycoon. Presley hated drugs and what they did to people. He hated his dad's business but could do nothing about it.

One part of the contract was the limit the tycoon could sell to one person. Freeman did not want any overdoses on his watch. But somehow, that happened. Something fishy was going on.

Presley tucked the paper in the pocket of his leather jacket. "Anything else?"

Freeman drummed his fingers on the table surface. His golden rings clanked with each hit. "Bring me back proof that you finished the job."

Presley stared Freeman in the eye. He hoped his dad wouldn't make him do that, but he should have never gotten his hopes up. He should have gotten up without another word before his dad could demand more.

Presley scooted his chair back. "Done." His steel-toe boots hit the floor with a thud.

"Presley." Freeman made Presley stop in his tracks. Presley waited for words he always wanted to hear but never did, words that fathers were supposed to say. They didn't come this time either. "Tell Huck to come in here." Presley didn't look back as he exited the saloon.

Freeman was the only parent Presley had. His mom died when he was a baby. Presley heard from hushed whispers that is when Freeman became the cold, hard man he is today.

Huck must have heard Freeman because he passed Presley while he was leaving. "You are late for school, as usual" Huck clutched Presley on the shoulder. Huck was Freeman's right-hand man. He had been there for Presley when Freeman wasn't.

"Yeah, I gotta hurry. See ya." Presley's voice was barely audible over the roaring jukebox that started playing.

He got on his motorcycle, bringing up the kickstand. Presley's engine sang to life. He could listen to the tune all day long. He revved it up, making fumes enclose his senses. There was nothing like the smell of a freshly started motor.

Presley wiggled around in his seat until he felt the long pocket knife in his back pocket. His trusty blade went with him everywhere. Today, he would have to use it. He grabbed his sunglasses from the sunglass holder strapped on his handles and twisted the gas handle.