She began to cry.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
She cried because she was sixteen and exhausted and terrified.
She cried because she had tried.
She cried because trying had not been enough.
Then the windows began to shake.
Leo looked up.
“What is that?”
Rebecca walked to the window.
Her eyes widened.
Thirty motorcycles filled the parking lot.
Thirty.
At the front of them stood Rooster.
The Thirty Riders
Rooster climbed the stairs.
A silver-haired biker walked beside him.
Behind them, other riders carried boxes.
One carried groceries.
Another carried a stuffed green dinosaur.
Rooster knocked.
Rebecca opened the door.
“Heard you were moving.”
“I don't have a choice.”
Rooster looked into the apartment.
Empty.
Cold.
Broken.
His jaw tightened.
Rebecca wiped her face.
“I lost my job.”
“I heard.”
“How?”
Rooster shrugged.
“Everybody hears everything.”
Rebecca gave a broken laugh.
“I don't know what to do.”
Rooster handed her a manila envelope.
“Open it.”
Inside were documents.
Hospital bills.
Paid.
Pharmacy bills.
Paid.
Then a lease.
A two-bedroom townhouse.
Two years prepaid.
Rebecca stared.
She couldn't breathe.
“What is this?”
“Your new address.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“You need somewhere to live.”
“I can't take this.”
“You can.”
“This must have cost thousands.”
“More.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
Rooster was silent for a moment.
Then he opened his wallet.
The photograph appeared again.
The baby in the pink blanket.
“Her name was Sophie.”
Rebecca listened.
“She had lungs like your brother.”
His voice became quieter.
“Thirty years ago, she had a severe asthma attack. I didn't have insurance. I was afraid of the hospital bill.”
He stared at the photograph.
“I waited too long.”
Rebecca's eyes filled.
“She died in my arms.”
The room became silent.
Rooster continued.
“I spent years thinking I couldn't change what happened.”
He looked at Leo.
“Then I saw you.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I only protected your motorcycle because I needed my job.”
“No.”
Rooster shook his head.
“You protected something because you thought nobody else would.”
He looked directly at her.
“I don't let that happen twice in one lifetime.”
Family
The club moved Rebecca and Leo that afternoon.
Thirty motorcycles escorted them across Bakersfield.
The new townhouse felt unreal.
Two bedrooms.
A working heater.
A clean bathroom.
A real kitchen.
Leo's bedroom had a blue comforter.
A nebulizer sat on the nightstand.
Rebecca's room had a bed and a desk.
On the desk was an envelope.
Inside was a note.
Finish school.
No arguments.
— R
Rebecca laughed through tears.
Rooster stood in the doorway.
“I can work,” she said.
“No.”
“I have to pay you back.”
“You will.”
“How?”
“School first.”
Rebecca looked down.
“I don't know how to be sixteen.”
Rooster's expression softened.
“Then learn.”
Life didn't become perfect.
Leo still had asthma.
Rebecca still woke whenever he coughed.
She still hid extra food beneath the sink.
She still panicked whenever an envelope arrived in the mail.
But now there were people around them.
Maria brought groceries.
Hank fixed the back gate.
Preacher built model cars with Leo.
Tiny brought school supplies.
Rooster checked the locks, medicine, smoke detectors, and school attendance.
He rarely said anything emotional.
Instead, he would walk into the kitchen carrying groceries.
“Eat.”
“I already did.”
“Eat again.”
Leo adored him.
He began calling him Mr. Rooster.
Rooster pretended to hate it.
Nobody believed him.
Sophie
One night, Leo asked a question.
“Was Sophie sick like me?”
Rebecca sat beside him.
“Yes.”
“Did Mr. Rooster love her?”
“Very much.”
Leo thought about it.
Then he nodded.
“I think Sophie would like me.”