Chapter 147: Interesting Conflict
"What are you looking at?" Hannah asked curiously as she saw Jack constantly looking around.
"Why are these guys so well-behaved? I thought these bikers, uh, Harley enthusiasts would be, well, less law-abiding," Jack whispered in Hannah's ear.
"This is Texas, and these local biker gangs usually keep their distance from ordinary citizens and never actively cause trouble. Look at their average age," Hannah explained.
Maybe because most of them had shaved heads or various unique hairstyles, along with distinctive big beards, Jack hadn't noticed their ages before. But now, with Hannah's reminder, he realized that many of these bikers looked to be in their sixties or seventies, and the youngest were at least in their forties or fifties.
Hannah continued her explanation, "These guys aren't like the gang members you know. There are two groups here. This one is the infamous 'Sons of Anarchy'. They often visit orphanages to deliver toys and take kids on Harley rides."
Jack looked at their emblem, which depicted a chubby little man in a Mexican sombrero, holding a knife in one hand and a gun in the other.
"The other group is called the 'Cossack Club'. About three or four years ago, these two groups got into a fight at a Twin Peaks restaurant in Waco over jealousy issues. It escalated into a shootout, resulting in nine deaths and eighteen serious injuries."
"And when the police arrived, they united against the police, leading to a shootout with them too. Nearly 200 people were arrested," Hannah's voice wasn't soft, and an old guy with a 'Sons of Anarchy' emblem nearby heard it and immediately objected.
"Fuck, it was those damn cops who didn't play by the rules. They called in the SWAT team, who hid on the roof and only came down after we finished fighting."
This old guy, wearing a tattered denim vest, was evidently present at the time. He stared menacingly at Hannah for a long while, and just as Jack was planning how to protect Hannah if a fight broke out, the old man suddenly shouted.
"Hey, guys, look who's here! The Stephenson girl is back!"
"Wow!" The restaurant erupted with cheers, and almost everyone turned their attention towards them. Hannah had to stand up and wave to the crowd.
"Ah, I didn't expect you to be so famous here." Jack was taken aback by the sudden turn of events.
With a bang, two bottles of cold Budweiser were placed heavily in front of them.
"Welcome back, Stephenson girl. Your parents were good people," the old man said as he handed over the beers, not forgetting to throw a challenging look at Jack.
"Hey, kid, you did a good job modifying that bike."
It turned out that this old man was among those Harleys Jack encountered in Sonora. Still flirting at this age, some people never get old at heart.
"Dad used to have a good relationship with some of these people. When our family was in trouble, many of them wanted to help, even though they couldn't do much," Hannah continued, her tone complicated. "These people have their own values. Though some of them deal in arms, drugs, and extort protection money from prostitutes, they won't tolerate anyone harming the poor or children. They'd step in to help."
Listening to this reminded Jack of those ancient 'knights-errant' from his past life. He smirked, somewhat disdainfully. Those 'good girls' from back then, with their tattoos, smoking, drinking, and punk hairstyles, probably learned from people like them.
"For instance, during that shootout I mentioned, there were many spectators nearby, including kids, but no innocent people were hurt. Before the police arrived, they were just swinging chains at each other. Later, the police couldn't do much and released everyone they had caught within a few months."
"That's because we were united. At the time, we and the 'Cossack Club' organized a protest with over a thousand people, against those asshole cops," the old man, who had been eavesdropping, added proudly.
Hannah said nothing, smiling as she lifted her denim jacket to reveal her FBI badge on her waist. The old man turned away sullenly.
"Hey, handsome, nice to see you again. Remember to vote for me," a bubbly voice said as Jack felt a soft, bouncy cushion bump into his arm. He turned to see a pair of familiar peaks he had seen a few hours earlier.
It was the waitress from the gas station, wearing a red and black plaid bustier that barely contained her assets, which seemed to be the uniform of this restaurant.
She placed a sizzling tomahawk steak on their table, winked at Jack, and pointed to a small note on the tray.
"My name's Barbie, the fourth name on the list."
Jack curiously pointed to the first name, which was obviously male, "Bobby? Who's that?"
Barbie winked at him again. "That's our chef. Our rule is that male chefs can participate too, but you wouldn't want to vote for him, right?"
After she left, facing Hannah's intrigued gaze, Jack had to cough and try to explain, "You wouldn't believe it, but a few hours ago, she flipped me off."
He then picked up a pen and checked the name 'Bobby'. Hannah took a sip from her beer bottle, unable to hide the smile at the corner of her mouth.
The tomahawk steak was decent, and the fries were well-cooked. Jack felt his vote for the chef was well-spent.
After he and Hannah finished their second bottles of beer, the restaurant's lively atmosphere reached its peak. A host with a microphone started loudly announcing votes, the sound of people pounding on tables and cheering mixed together, occasionally erupting in enthusiastic applause.
Even Jack, who typically didn't engage in such lively atmospheres, was drawn in by Hannah. Every time the host added a vote for the chef 'Bobby', he joined everyone in banging on the table and making noise.
In the end, 'Bobby' didn't disappoint, winning the restaurant's 'Twin Peaks Miss' title by six votes over the second place. He was dragged out from the kitchen, his greasy white chef's hat knocked off, and a delicate silver crown placed on his head.
Things got a bit out of hand after that. The Harley enthusiasts from both 'Sons of Anarchy' and 'Cossack Club', whose girls both lost, escalated from verbal arguments to pushing and shoving. Some kids around started crying in fear, and the conflict was on the verge of becoming a brawl.
"Take it outside if you want to fight! There are kids here," Hannah suddenly leaped onto the table, roaring like a lioness.
The restaurant fell silent. Even the crying kids were startled into quietness. The leading troublemakers looked around and saw that the ordinary patrons were also glaring at them, hands on their waists.
The old bikers grudgingly spat and actually pulled each other out of the restaurant, continuing their fists-and-kicks conversation in the parking lot.
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