Chapter 7: Playing the Hero

By noon, customers began trickling into the restaurant. Karen and Annie started taking orders, while Jimmy sat at the cash register with Erica. Whenever the kitchen staff finished a dish, they would ring a bell, prompting Karen to pick up the order and deliver it to the tables. Jimmy carefully observed the table numbers marked on the order slips and tracked Karen’s routes.

During his downtime, Jimmy studied the menu in detail. American menus were entirely different from those in China; they were named based on their primary ingredients and preparation methods. "Deep-fried chicken and bacon rolls," "Roasted lemon marinade chicken leg with french fries"—the names were so long that even just reading them was a chore.

Business was slow during lunch, with no more than four tables occupied at any given time. It was quite leisurely. After asking Erica, he learned that most customers came in the evening, primarily local residents, many of whom were regulars.

As it neared 2:00 PM, approaching the restaurant’s afternoon break, two burly men walked in. It was September and still quite hot, yet they were both wearing leather jackets, heavily adorned with studs and chains. With their thick beards, they looked like men not to be trifled with.

"Jimmy, don't stare at them," Erica whispered, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Do you know them?"

"They’re Hells Angels. See the tattoo on the bald guy’s head? The skull with wings."

"Yeah." Jimmy turned toward the kitchen.

"What can I get for you two?" Karen asked as she walked over and handed them the menu.

"Pan-seared filet with brown sauce, medium-rare, mashed potatoes, and a side salad. Two orders."

"Coming right up." Karen returned to the counter and slid the order ticket through the kitchen pass.

With no other customers in the restaurant, Karen and Annie rested by the register. Having nothing to do, Jimmy headed to the restroom.

...

"Ah!" A shriek echoed through the dining room. Jimmy, having just finished washing his hands, stepped out of the restroom.

Sure enough, it was that same table. One of the men had slapped Karen on the buttocks while she was serving, causing her to cry out in alarm.

Everyone rushed out at the sound of her scream. Jacob and Daniel, in particular, emerged from the kitchen wielding kitchen knives and spatulas. Jimmy immediately rushed to Karen’s side, pulling her behind him.

"Cool it, cool it. Just a joke. My bad," the man said, raising his hands in a gesture of apology.

"Karen, go take a break," Jacob instructed before turning back to the kitchen. The lunch shift was ending, and the staff still needed to clean up.

...

The two Hells Angels finished their meal quietly, paid their bill, and left. Jimmy followed them to the door, watching as they mounted their motorcycles and rode away.

...

Once Jacob finished his tasks, he came out and said to the group, "I still feel like something’s wrong. Jimmy, go get Jon."

"Okay."

Jon came out of his office, and Jacob filled him in on what had happened.

"The point is, they were too quiet. These are Hells Angels. They didn't do anything else—it just ended like that?" Jacob voiced his concern.

Jon thought for a moment. "Let me call James." He headed back to his office to make the call.

"Jacob, who is James?" Jimmy asked.

"The County Sheriff." "Oh."

"Everyone, take a break. We reopen at 5:00 PM."

After finishing his call, Jon came out to dismiss the staff, then sat by the door to wait for the police.

Before long, a patrol car arrived. The officer went inside to talk to Jon, while Jimmy lay down on a bench in the staff room to nap.

...

Dozing off, Jimmy heard the sound of a siren, but he didn't pay it much mind—it certainly wasn't for him.

Then, a loud crash jolted him right off the bench. He hurried outside to see that, not far from the restaurant entrance, a patrol car and a pickup truck had collided and skidded onto the roadside grass. The front of the patrol car was mangled, and the pickup had flipped onto its side.

Jimmy ran over and pulled open the patrol car’s driver-side door. The airbag had deployed, pinning the officer against the seat.

"Hey, Officer! Are you okay? Do you need help?" Jimmy asked urgently, tapping the officer gently until he opened his eyes.

"Help me out. Pull me," the officer said, pushing the airbag aside and shifting toward the door.

Jimmy assessed the situation: other than some blood on his face and lips, there were no obvious signs of injury to the head. It was likely just a bloody nose from the airbag impact, though he couldn't rule out a concussion or internal head trauma.

He reached in and helped the officer out. The officer’s legs buckled, and he slumped to the ground. Struggling to stand, he eventually leaned against the patrol car, gasping for air.

Jimmy asked, "Are you injured? Do you want me to check you over?"

Ignoring Jimmy, the officer grabbed his radio to contact dispatch. "Code 50. I need an ambulance. I need an ambulance. I cannot move, I cannot confirm the status of the others, and I need backup."

"Officer, you should really let me do a basic check. Please, cooperate with me."

Jimmy held up his right index finger in front of the officer’s eyes. "Watch my finger." He moved it slowly from side to side; the officer’s eyes tracked it.

"Please give me your flashlight, Officer." Jimmy took the light, adjusted the beam, and swept it across the officer’s eyes. The pupils contracted normally, and there was no visible hemorrhaging in the whites of his eyes.

"I don't see anything abnormal for now, but you still need to go to the hospital. You might have a mild concussion."

Jimmy gently inspected the officer’s limbs. The good news: no signs of fractures.

"No fractures in your right leg, but it looks like a severe contusion. You shouldn't move for now."

After finishing the check, Jimmy handed the flashlight back.

"Check the driver of that truck for me, please," the officer said, unable to move from his spot against the car.

"Right." Jimmy walked over to the pickup. One look at the driver’s seat was enough; he turned back immediately.

"Sorry, Officer. He’s likely gone. We should wait for the paramedics to confirm."

"Thanks. Please wait here for a moment; someone will be along to take your statement."

...

Jimmy sat nearby, staring blankly at the wreckage. He hadn't expected that in this new life, he would still have the chance to use his old professional skills. As a former firefighter, he had received extensive emergency training for fires and traffic accidents.

Seeing the crash, he had rushed in to help without a second thought. Even though he was no longer a member of the fire department, in that moment, he had completely forgotten.

After ten years in the service, some things were simply etched into his bones.