"There's always a newer model coming out, buddy," the guy drawled blissfully, picking his nose without a hint of shame. "So, whaddya say? Taking it?"
"I'd love to, but I don't have the cash on me right now," I admitted reluctantly, hating to concede defeat. "Maybe you could hold onto it for a bit while I scrape the money together?"
The guy dug around in his nose for another moment, then flicked something (which I decidedly did not want to see) aside before declaring:
"Take it now."
"But I can't pay you right now," I repeated, as if explaining to a particularly slow child.
"I know the boy—well, his grandpa, really. A man of his word, plus he’s into bikes too. You’ll pay me back, no doubt," the guy grinned.
I glanced at Oscar, but he just nodded confidently, looking utterly unfazed.
"Let’s take it?" the kid urged. "I don’t wanna walk back."
"How do I find you?" I asked the guy.
"Everyone around here knows me," he said, tilting his chin up. "Just ask for Kurt—they’ll point you my way."
With that, he sauntered back into the diner. I grabbed the helmet and handed it to Oscar.
"Put it on."
"But it’s too big for me," he whined.
"Safer this way if you're riding with me."
Grumbling, the kid obeyed, clamping his arms around my waist as I fired up the bike. Easing forward, I reminded myself to take it slow—this beast of a machine wasn’t exactly child-friendly.
I didn’t want to go back to the lakeside cabin, but disappearing over the horizon with the kid wasn’t an option either. So I decided to cruise the highway for a while before dropping Oscar off—hoping his grandpa hadn’t returned yet and started panicking about his missing grandson.
After bumping through backroads onto the main highway, I headed in the opposite direction from Oscar’s place. The kid, who’d apparently never ridden anything faster than a bicycle, clung to me like a barnacle, his grip only fueling my urge to go faster.
As we passed the red cliff that gave the diner its name, I pulled over. Oscar still had a death grip around my waist. I had to knock his shoulder three times before he dared open his eyes.
"Off you get, Oz," I said, peeling him off me like a stubborn koala.
Oscar wobbled onto solid ground and yanked off the helmet, its visor fogged from his frantic breathing.