He wasn’t one of those people who lived in the mountains, but dreamed of a house on the beach. Or vice versa. Dry air, hills, and live oak was good enough for him. He’d made up his mind that he wasn’t interested in the life the club could offer him. Since he’d grown up in and around his dad’s motorcycle club, he was able to make a truly informed choice. Brant didn’t have the kind of angry fire in the belly that motivates a man to choose that path. He wasn’t overly interested in money, especially not if it came with the risk of prison. And he hadn’t experienced the sort of injustice that had caused the original seven members, all Vietnam vets, to band together with a third finger prominently raised at particular aspects of society. Brant thought of himself as a simple sort of guy even though he was an avid reader of classics and secretly pondered some of the great philosophical brain-scramblers while he worked as a mechanic. He’d been born with the talent for it, loved taking things apart and putting them back together in better condition than before.
What do You think about A Season In Gemini, Intro?
