Covert Identity

by Maria Hammarblad

  Jimmy was already on his way back. She pretended to text, but took a couple of photos of him. A treasure to keep for later.

  He smiled. "Checking in?"

  "Yes. Gotta let her know I couldn't make it half an hour before spilling something."

  It didn't take long before she was perched on the back of the bike again. He turned around to meet her eyes. "Do you want to go home, or drive down the beach?"

  She sometimes took the winding road along the coastline in her truck just because it was beautiful, and the very idea of going there on this monster-machine handled by him was exhilarating.

  "Down the beach, if you don't mind."

  He looked extraordinarily happy.

  "That's the spirit."

  By the time they returned to the house, they'd been driving around for over two hours and Sharon's body ached from sitting in an unusual position for so long. She was still reluctant to let go of him, but couldn't stall getting off the motorcycle.

  She fumbled to get the helmet off, but Jimmy shook his head when she tried to hand it over.

  "Keep it. If I'm lucky, you might need it again."

  She rested a hand on his shoulder.

  "Thank you. Wanna come inside?"

  He flashed a smile, teeth looking very white in the sunburnt face.

  "Yes, but I can't. I've gotta go do something."

  When did I become so bold? And why can't I stop touching him?

  The bike must have distorted her concept of personal space. Yes, that was it.

  She wanted to tell him to come back later, or at least the next day, but she couldn't force the words over her lips. Instead she looked down at her feet so he couldn't read the truth in her eyes.

  He took her hand and pressed his lips against it.

  "I'll call you." Glancing over towards the living room window, he added with laughter in his voice, "I'd better go now before your friend comes out to shoot me."

  Oh no, she doesn't.

  Oh yes, Mona had the pink .20-gauge next to her. She smiled and waved, thankfully not with the hand that held the shotgun.

  "I'm really sorry about that. I didn't expect her to."

  Jimmy chuckled. "That's okay. I've been shot before and I might survive one more time. You have someone who cares for you; it's a good thing."

  Her hand seemed cold and lonely when he no longer held it, and she stayed outside the door, holding her new helmet tight, watching him roll backwards out on the road.

  He waved, and the little gesture made her heart swell.

  *****

  In spite of Jimmy's words, Sharon didn't expect to hear from him again. Surely, he'd find something more interesting to do, and if he called it would just be to get the helmet back.

  When her phone rang late in the evening, she stared at the display for a long moment before answering. She wanted to sound sexy, but was too happy to even try.

  He said, "Hey, it's me," and she heard a man call out for him in the background. Jimmy shouted, "I'll be right there."

  His voice returned to her, laughing softly. "Crazy day. Hey, I have so much to do this week, but... Can I take you for lunch tomorrow?"

  Her heart sank into a trench when he said busy, and jumped back up at the word lunch.

  "Sure."

  Speaking one-word sentences hardly made her sound intelligent or fun to talk to, but all words were gone from her brain.

  "I'll pick you up. Is one too late?"

  "One is great."

  Wow, I can still talk coherently? Amazing.

  "Good, I'll see you then. I'm looking forward to it."

  Then, he was gone, and she shouted into the silence of the little house, "Yes!"

  One the next day was a long time away. How could she fill the hours until then? When she thought at least twenty minutes must have passed she looked at the clock and the hands had barely moved at all.

  Ridiculous.

  Had she fallen into a space-time anomaly or something?

  Her laptop balanced on the edge of the table. She had avoided computers all afternoon, reasoning it was better not to know too much about certain things. Now, the screen beckoned.

  She pulled up a new browser window.

  "Don't do it."

  Talking to herself didn't help. Her fingers typed, "Criminal motorcycle gang."

  Some of the websites looked like propaganda, pro or con, but others were useful. When she found a long article, she turned on text-to-speech and heard the synthetic computer voice read:

  "The typical internal organization of a motorcycle club consists of a president, vice president, treasurer, secretary, road captain, and sergeant-at-arms."

  She leaned back in the sofa, but bounced back to upright when the computer said, "Sergeant-at-arms."

  "Arms? They can't possibly mean that the way it comes across."

  The computer went on talking about the ordeals of becoming a full member and she turned the speech function off, eyeing through the rest of the text.

  "In many clubs only men are allowed. Women may be allowed to wear a vest with a patch that reads property of and the club's name."

  Male chauvinist pigs.

  She could imagine Jimmy and his bike just fine, and seeing herself next to him came surprisingly easy. Seeing herself in a leather vest marked "Property of" did not go as well. It was presumptuous, of course, they had barely been on a date and there was no reason to believe anything would ever happen, but either way, she wasn't anyone's property.

  Would she accept it? For him?

  It would never be an issue. They were too different.

  She went back to Google and picked another page. Department of Justice sounded reliable.

  "Outlaw motorcycle gangs are highly structured criminal organizations whose members engage in violent crime, weapons trafficking, and drug trafficking."

  She slammed the laptop lid shut and went to the kitchen to make tea. Tea would be much more appropriate than reading stupid things like this.

  Jimmy seemed like a nice guy, and his eyes were honest. He couldn't be involved in violent crime and selling drugs. Or, was she a naïve and silly goose just wanting to think the best because she was infatuated with him?

  I'm not infatuated. That's as preposterous as being property.

  When she returned to the sofa with a steaming mug, she glared at the computer for a moment. She should open the lid and turn it off.

  It took less than ten seconds before she was reading again and the next website was better. It talked about how not all members would be criminals. She welcomed any reinforcement of what she wanted to believe.

  It also said, "Belonging guarantees to each member the option of running criminal activity, using other members as support."

  "Stupid machine. Enough of this."

  She turned the computer off and tucked it away.

  By the time the night eventually turned into morning and day, it seemed like a week had passed. She paced the rooms and attempted to look cool, as if she wasn't waiting, but when Jimmy pulled up she bounced out of the house to meet him.

  He squinted at the windows.

  "No friend waiting with a shotgun today?"

  Some people might be irritated or hurt by such a blatant lack of faith in them, but he seemed amused.

  "Nah. I don't think you'd buy me ice cream if you wanted to kidnap me."

  Jimmy laughed. At least he took things the right way.

  "C'mon, get up. Helmet."

  Sitting on the bike, pressed against his back, was just as heavenly as she remembered.

  I didn't just imagine this as awesome. It's strange to see the ground swoosh by so close to my feet. That should probably scare me, but I guess I trust him.

  She gave him a little squeeze. Having this excuse to hold on to him was most excellent. They could have lunch in Georgia. It might take better part of the day to reach the adjoining state, but she wouldn't complain.

  Jimmy drove out of the city, but stopped on the shoulder, letting the bik
e idle. He glanced back at her. "We're going up on the interstate, but just to the next exit."

  "Okay."

  He smiled. "Just want to make sure you don't think I'm Sharon-napping you. Are you ready?"

  At that moment, she was almost hypnotized by his eyes and would have agreed to anything. Words were beyond her, so she nodded.

  "You're good back there. I hardly notice I have you on the bike. Some people wiggle so much it's hard to drive."

  Yay, I got a compliment. Hmm, wonder who else he drives around... A new girl every day, probably.

  The big road scared her. There were so many cars everywhere, and the wheels on the semis were taller than she was. The speed would have been intoxicating if it were only them, but the cars meandered between the lanes and an old man with Indiana plates would have smashed right into them if Jimmy hadn't veered to the side.

  She forced herself to exhale. They were clearly invisible, but at least he knew what he was doing. If she survived this she would pay more attention to bikes, and give them more room.

  The dread faded quickly. As soon as they were on the ramp off the interstate, she thought she could probably get used to it.

  He pulled up outside a Cracker Barrel. Not what she expected, but on the other hand, she didn't know what she expected. She didn't know where bikers ate, or what they ate besides beer and ice cream, but imagined more of a food stand with greasy burgers than a sit-down restaurant with an old-fashioned store.

  There were other bikes outside, all different than his but a fair number. How blind had she been to the world around her?

  She muttered, "I am so prejudiced," and didn't realize she said it aloud until he glanced over at her.

  "What's that, babe?"

  "Nothing. Just talking to myself."

  He called me babe.

  If someone else did it she'd probably snap that she wasn't a little pig. When he did it, it seemed endearing.

  His eyes glittered with amusement, as if she were the most entertaining thing he ever met.

  Once inside, all the knick-knacks in the store charmed her and she forgot all about the differences between their ways of life, both real and imagined. She hadn't been to a Cracker Barrel in years, and she had forgotten how much fun stuff they had.

  A woman looked at a cartoonish ceramic figurine with a dog hugging a sheep, and the little decoration called out to her.

  "Wow, that's just too cute."

  The woman looked at her, about to answer with a smile. "Yes..." Her eyes fell on Jimmy and she mouthed the words on his vest. Her eyes widened and she clenched her jaw, spun around, and hurried towards the restaurant. She didn't quite run, but it was close.

  "That was rude."

  Jimmy placed his hands on her shoulders. "People are afraid of me. I'm sorry."

  Do they need to be?

  She couldn't say that.

  "Doesn't that feel strange? Having people fear you?"

  He shrugged and took the sheep from her hands.

  "It is what it is. You want that?"

  The figurine looked out of place in his coarse hand.

  Why did you join a band of criminals? You're such a sweet guy, why would you want to be feared and challenged by others all the time?

  It was too early for such personal questions. Maybe he'd done something in his teens, or maybe he'd followed a friend. For all she knew, he could be ready to leave them.

  Was that even possible?

  Jimmy put a hand on her shoulder and steered her towards the register. Once seated in the restaurant he made her forget all about the incident, and she had the time of her life.

  *****

  Every day went along the same lines. Jimmy called in the evening, came over to drive her somewhere during the day, and said he had to go when she asked him to come in.

  They had a good time, but she found it strange.

  Mona said, "Maybe he's gay."

  Was she just a cover? A make-believe girlfriend for show? Maybe she was a girl best friend, like she might have a gay best friend.

  "He can't be. That just wouldn't be fair."

  "Let's have a girls' night out, forget all about men for a bit."

  "Thanks, but..."

  Mona laughed. "I get it. You want to be here in case he shows up."

  Friday broke the pattern. The day came and went without word from Jimmy. Sharon forced herself to work, and kept checking her phone in case the full battery depleted itself. She turned the ringer off and on several times and even rebooted it, to be on the safe side.

  When did she grow so dependent on him? She barely knew him, so how could she be unable to be content without him?

  Mona's offer of girls' night looked better and better, but it was too late now.

  She had a salad for dinner and spent some time cleaning the kitchen. No matter how hard she tried to stay occupied, her mind wandered. He was probably out partying with all the other bikers and there was no room for her there.

  It seemed a reasonable assumption for a Friday night, and her imagination painted out a smoky room with hookers, drugs, strong liquor, and fights.

  "I'm not jealous. I'm not."

  She played with her phone, turning it over in her hands.

  Should I call him? No, I should leave him alone. I'll call him tomorrow, just to say hi. If I wait it won't seem so needy.

  The phone could be used for other things, like calling for pizza. She was still hungry, and it was Friday. It would be prudent to watch her weight now when she was at least kind of dating, but the small salad had little impact on hunger.

  Someone knocked on the door and the unexpected noise made her jump. For all she knew it might be a whole gang of bikers wanting to come in and wreck her place, or why not the police wanting to interrogate her for associating with criminal elements.

  Get a grip, silly.

  Opening the door, with the security chain on, she was relieved to see Jimmy outside. He held up a twelve pack of beer and a bag with take-out food from a Chinese restaurant.

  "Today, I would like to come in."

  She fumbled the door open, lifted an eyebrow, and teased, "You're drunk."

  He shrugged and flashed a smile that made a million butterflies take flight in her stomach.

  "Just a little. Hey, where's your kitchen?"

  The scents wafting from the bag made her mouth water.

  "This house is so small you can't miss anything. C'mon."

  Hopefully there wouldn't be anything too embarrassing in the fridge, like moldy leftovers. Even if there were, he was probably too focused on his beer to notice.

  "You read my mind, I'm starving."

  Jimmy looked happy with himself. "Really?"

  "Yes. I was just thinking about food."

  And you...

  He unpacked little boxes from Ming Palace all over the counter.

  "I didn't know what you'd want, so I got some of everything. Hey, this is a nice house. And you got... sheep."

  What? Sheep? I don't have any pets. Certainly no farm animals.

  Glancing around, she realized he meant the figurine he bought her. It brightened the kitchen window.

  "I do. I don't think it'll give much wool, but it's real friendly and easy to care for."

  He shook his head and chuckled. "You're so fucking cute."

  Struggling to keep a stern face, she poked his chest.

  "Watch your mouth, mister."

  Jimmy placed his hands on her hips and tugged her closer, staring into her eyes.

  "I won't. What are you gonna do about it?"

  The warmth from his palms made her want to drop all her clothes. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.

  "I don't know. Some form of punishment where you can't use your mouth for profanity."

  He kept his eyes fixed on hers a moment longer before brushing his lips over her cheek.

  "Maybe put it here?"

  Her skin tingled from the light kiss. Was it finally happening?

  "Maybe..." />
  "Or here?"

  His lips barely touched hers, but it still felt like he set her on fire.

  "That's a good spot."

  The teasing was over. He tasted like beer and cigarettes and everything forbidden. His arms around her were strong enough to make her feel stuck in a vise, but she didn't mind. Not with that hard and muscular body pressed against her.

  If an asteroid hit Earth and eradicated all life, she'd die happy.

  It seemed like only half a second passed before he released her. His eyes were smiling, glittering, and she should have suspected mischief.

  "Sorry, can't do anymore. God intends for all intimacy to take place within the bounds of marriage."

  The comment was so unexpected she burst out, "Say what?"

  A religious criminal biker? You've got to be kidding me.

  He laughed. "Got you, I got you good. You should have seen the look on your face."

  She smacked his shoulder. "It's not nice to make fun of people. You're a dick."

  "Well, at least I have one."

  Trust me, I've been thinking about it.

  "I never doubted that."

  "Do you want to hit me again, or should we just have dinner?"

  "Just kiss me, dumbass."

  He did, but she could hear suppressed laughter when he murmured, "Your food is getting cold."

  "Microwave."

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Sharon opened her eyes with a smile on her face.

  How pleasant it was to share the bed with someone. It had been empty for so long.

  Jimmy snored softly and she slipped out of bed to take a quick peek in the mirror and text Mona.

  "Guess who came over last night. We had Chinese."

  The answer came promptly, "Not gay?"

  Her cheeks heated at the mere thought. "Definitely not gay."

  That man has an appetite for life. Should I tell her that he has tattoos? No, she probably guessed that already.

  The phone beeped again. "LOL! Good for you!"

  She tried to slip back into bed without waking him, but failed. Jimmy rolled over on his back and pulled her close.

  "Good morning, gorgeous."

  Resting her head against his shoulder was almost too good. How had she lived without him for so long? She ran a hand over his chest and he laughed.

  "You're a wanton little nymphet."