Joe never told anyone about the day they bought the motorbike. Lucas didn't know anything about bikes, so he saved his money, every paycheck, every overtime shift, he could, for six months.
Then, him and Joe together went to buy one. The dealer talked to Joe the whole time, and when they'd gone out to test drive bikes, Lucas had said, embarrassed, "Whatever you think. I don't, I don't really know anything."
Lucas had answered, "you crazy kid," and meant it.
Lucas had paid cash, and it'd cleaned him out completely. It was the first major purchase he ever made, and the three hours in the sun were all worth it for Joe when he saw Lucas's face when Lucas signed the papers.
Lucas spent many nights asleep on that bike, but none of them were as utterly terrifying as this one, not even the one time he'd parked it in DC and slept waiting for someone to knife him. Nine thousand down, plus four hundred of his own, and nothing but fifty quarters to show for it. He would sell the bike, if Joe didn't kill him first, except it wasn't worth anything to a dealer and nowhere else would pay cash.
Joe would never ask him to sell it, not if they lost the apartment and ended up at his mother's house in the suburbs again, like that really, really bad month when Lucas was fourteen.
He would sell it for Joe anyway.