“They’re really not bad people,” Jennalee told her mother as they walked the winding path toward Building Eight.
“You said that.”
“I wasn’t sure you heard me and you shouldn’t think bad of them just because they’re bikers. I mean, that’s not a crime, is it? Just because Dad can’t relate and just because they make a little noise? I think they’re cool.”
“Motorcycles in the rooms are not cool.”
“Okay, but don’t come down on them like really hard.”
“Why are you so protective of these people?” Jane asked.
“I’m not. I just don’t want them to think we’re snobs. They’re just…earthy, you know? Basic, laid back. Real.”
“Real.”
“You know what I mean. Nothing phony. What you see is what you get.”
‘I’ll remember that.”
When they reached Building Eight, there were no motorcycles out front, and
