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Gus swipes the white ticket with red numbers at the bottom and stares at it “O, O, seven, six”

“Very good,” I praise hi out of the way of the next customer in line

“Where do you want to sit?” There’s an area with picnic tables out in the open, a sheltered set, and a few tables with uh school kids have claimed the shelter I’m sure their topics of conversation aren’t appropriate for Gus’s ears “How about one of these tables?”

“I wanna sit here” He darts to one of the tables out in the open

“Sure” I glance around seeing the guy on the Harley parked on the other side ofus, but I’m afraid I won’t like the answer

Our nuet the tray I don’t knohat’s going on, but I have this heavy sensation deep inis off It isn’t only because of the biker guy follow our every move I ha

ve a bad vibe I grab our tray and go to pay when the woman declines my money

“Our boy eats for free”

“Okay At least accept a tip?” I lay a five-dollar bill on the counter Gus and I go back to our seat and I notice the biker, Mute, has his cell phone to his ear, but his gaze is on Gus andour every move?

I take a sip ofI wipeabout as much luck as I am I hand his stuffing uess that’s why she referred to it as a chili bun I wonder how s him here for dinner since his father passed away “So what does your mom do? Does she work?”

Gus shakes his head “She sleeps a lot She’s sad all the time”

“Maybe you should draw her a picture”

He seerab his backpack froh to our table to leave hiot scars on his face, like he was in a terrible fire

“Did Jagger send you?”

“Yeth,” he ansith a bit of a lisp