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Glenn spoke with the heavy metal guy manning the bar, then grabbed our bag of goodies and we headed out of Cooper’s the back way. His monster of a truck was parked nearby. I grabbed the oh-s**t bar and, after one false start, managed to climb in the front while Glenn settled the arsenal in the back seat. He’d loaned me a Harley Davidson baseball cap, and I used the rearview mirror to tuck away stray bits of hair.
The front seating was a bench seat, and it shifted slightly when Glenn climbed in. “I feel like I’m on the second story of something,” I said, buckling my seat belt.
“Be careful getting down,” he said.
Any words after that were lost in the roar of his waking truck. So much for sneaking up on Eddie. “Is this a diesel?” I asked.
“No, just loud. Be better to take a different
