“If it’s not pointing out the obvious, Harry,” the butler observed once the ex-biker had run out of words, “it sounds to me like you’re lonely.”
Harry thought for a few beats, then his face split in a wide smile.
“Damn! You know, I think you’re right, Beeker! Son of a gun! That never occurred to me … I guess ’cause I’ve never been lonely before.”
“Excuse me, Harry”-Beeker’s voice was gentle-“but don’t you mean that until recently, you’ve always been lonely?”
If it was from anyone else, Harry would have simply laughed at the suggestion, but he had a great deal of respect for Beeker, so he gave the idea serious thought.
“I never thought of it that way,” he said slowly, “but … you know, it’s funny. When I first heard about this assignment, I was really lookin’ forward to bein’ out on my own again … gettin’ away from uniforms, and maybe mixin’ with a few of the folks like I used to hang around with. The way it is, though, I just can’t get into it. There’s even another biker here who keeps wantin’ to talk about old times, but I have trouble gettin’ fired up to brag about how bad the old club used to be. In fact, the more I think about it, the more it seems we ran on bullshit-all the time tryin’ to impress each other with how tough we was so’s nobody would think we was afraid. The fact is, the only place I’ve felt comfortable just bein’ me is with the cap’n and the troops.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised, Harry,” the butler said. “Of course, I’ve been with Mr. Phule for a long time now and watched the effect he has on those around him. Let me assure you that you’re not alone in your reactions. After a lifetime of feeling one has to pretend to be something he’s not, finally meeting someone who can not only accept but appreciate people as they are tends to generate-“