by A. J. Downey
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.”
“I was wondering, can you give the whole six-day-a-week thing a rest this week?”
I frowned. “What, take Saturday off?”
“I was thinking more like tomorrow, since it’s my Saturday.”
“Um, let me think a minute here.” I set my reader aside and picked up my phone from the bedside table. I scrolled through my day on my calendar function and didn’t see much, if anything, that Avery couldn’t handle.
“I think so,” I said. “Let me just text Avery, and make sure that she’s comfortable manning the fort all by herself.”
“Cool, let me know.”
“Sure.”
He ducked out my bedroom door and went into his room, closing the door softly behind him. I didn’t even think to ask him what he had in mind. I probably should have.
Avery texted back almost immediately, saying that it would be fine and that she wished I took more time off, that the shop wouldn’t burn down without me. I smiled wryly and thanked her and told her to call me if she needed anything or if anything came through that needed my attention, that I should be able to handle it from wherever I was. She told me to go have fun with whatever I was doing.
By the time the text exchange was through, I heard Golden’s shower running so I picked up my reader and tried to get back into the book I’d been reading. He came back out to check in with me, delicious in just those damn black cotton pajama pants and no shirt, rubbing a dark gray towel over his wet hair.
“We good for tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered softly. “What are we doing?”
He gave me a reckless grin and said, “I figured we’d go for a ride.”
I gave a long slow blink, wondering if I’d heard him right. “A ride? As in on your motorcycle?”
“Well, there’s another type of ride I give; I’m just not a hundred-percent certain I’m your type,” he said dryly and again, I gave a disbelieving blink.
“Are you flirting with me?”
He laughed, “Maybe I am.” He turned and said back over his shoulder, without looking, “Maybe I am.”
I sat there staring at his closed bedroom door for several heartbeats before I set aside my mystery novel and clicked out my lamp. I didn’t think sleep would find me very quickly with how my mind raced with speculation. I mean, I hadn’t said ‘Yes’ but I hadn’t exactly said ‘No’ either. To either.
I lay in the dark hush of my room and wondered what exactly that meant.
The next morning, Golden woke me up by crouching beside the bed and waving coffee under my nose.
I groaned and winced back, asking, “What time is it?”
“Early,” he said with a chuckle.
I pushed myself up slowly into a sitting position and he put the coffee into my hands. I sipped gingerly, relieved when I found it both not too hot and doctored to my liking. Meanwhile, he stood, his knees popping like rifle cracks in the small space of my room, though it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.
“Doesn’t that hurt when your knees do that?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Nope, just a holdover from military life. They make a lot of noise, but I haven’t had any problems yet.” He knocked on my bedside table and I smiled at the little superstition.
He looked amazing, as usual, in a pair of faded Levi’s that hugged his legs and tight ass and again I was trapped between lusting and being mortified, wondering if I even should. I shook my head to myself as he opened my closet doors and, whistling, slid hangars along the rod.
“Ooo! I’ll take it.” He pulled down a leather jacket of mine and laid it over the back of my desk chair, before rooting around in the bottom. He tossed first one, then the other, of some stylish, above-the-ankle black boots over each shoulder and stood up.
I watched him, amused.
“Are you having fun?” I asked dryly, and he grinned, giving me a wink. I rolled my eyes and he went around to my dresser, opening and closing drawers. He opened my underwear drawer and stretched his mouth like Yikes! I laughed.
“Ah, here we go.” He pulled out a pair of jeans and laid them across the foot of my bed.
I raised an eyebrow and said, “Why stop there? Might as well finish the job.”
He laughed, but rather than leave me to finish dressing myself, he finished going through my things, pulling out socks and underwear: a lacy bra and panty set I hadn’t worn in ages. I rolled my eyes and he gave me a look.
“I’ll leave those to you, then,” he said, and put them back. He went back to my closet, picked a tasteful white blouse to go with the jeans and turned, raising an eyebrow.
I smiled and laughed, and gave a nod.
“Good choice,” I praised and he grinned.
“Excellent. Finish your coffee, braid your hair or something, and let’s go.” He bounced on the balls of his feet in his motorcycle boots a couple times, like an excited kid, and I couldn’t help but laugh again.
“Okay, okay!”
He scuffed across my carpet and went out the door, closing it behind him. I shook my head and marveled. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so pleased or excited over anything before. I shook my head and gulped my coffee. I was a Twizzler stick of anxiety. On the one hand, I didn’t want to keep him waiting, while on the other, I was really nervous about what he had planned. Each one was wrapped around the other and wound tight.
I went to get dressed, picking out a camisole to go under the sheer blouse and a nude bra as opposed to the black one he’d chosen earlier. I finished putting on my clothes, swallowed the last of my coffee in three big gulps, and slung my purse and jacket over my arm, remembering at the last minute to grab my phone.
I found Golden in the kitchen, rinsing out his coffee mug, and as soon as I appeared, he held out a hand for mine. I slid it across the kitchen island at him and he looked me over.
“Hair,” he reminded me and I started.
“Oh, right!”
I ditched my things on the dining room table and listened to my boot heels clack against the tile on my way to the bathroom. They sounded a lot more self-assured than I actually felt, but I swallowed hard, brushed my hair, and carefully wove it into a French braid tight to my skull.
I tied the braid off, looked at myself in the mirror, and rolled my eyes when he called from the living room, “Lys, come on! Are you ready yet?”
“Hang on, hang on, I’m almost done!” I swiped on some natural lip balm, rubbed my lips together, and marched out and back down the hall.
“Good deal,” he said, dragging open the front door, already in his chaps and leather jacket.
“I don’t know about this…” I trailed off, ducking into my purse strap and hanging it cross ways over my chest. He watched me settle the strap between my breasts and raised an eyebrow. I put on my coat and zipped it up, tying the leather belt securely.
“Your body language suggests otherwise, Chica. Come on. No time like the present.” He picked up a helmet off the entryway table by the door and bent, opening the little cabinet underneath and retrieving a second. He held it out to me and I stared at it for a long time. I finally stepped forward and took it from him.
He winked at me and held out his free hand. Another moment of terrified reluctance passed, and I took it.
Oh, my god. Was I really about to do this?
He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze at the elevator door and bounced his eyebrows, letting go to punch the button. I tried a smile, but I was afraid it came out weak. His got bigger at it, and he gave me a nod as the doors slid open. He jerked his head in the direction of the elevator car and I took a deep breath and stepped on.
I half expected him to give me an ‘Atta girl’.
“Okay, so some things to remember…” he started, and then proceeded to fill my head with everything motorcycle safety, all at once, as we briskly walked up the sidewalk before turning at the corner. Two buildings down, he stopped at a side door and as
ked, “You think you can handle that?”
I swallowed. “Lean with you, not against you, don’t stiffen up,” I repeated.
“And?” he prompted.
“Watch the pipes when getting on and off.”
“Atta girl!”
I smiled, I couldn’t help it. He dragged open the door with a grin of his own. I followed him down the stairwell, down and down, until he stopped and pulled open the next door. We went through and found ourselves in a chain-link cage. He rattled through his keys, found the right one, and stuck it into the lock, giving it a twist and shoving open the fencing. I followed him through and he shut it, making sure it was locked behind us.
I followed him down the dimly-lit rows of cars to the end, the dirty fluorescent lighting muted but still buzzing loudly overhead. He stopped at a row of motorcycle spaces and went to one, pulling off a cover and bundling it up, stowing it in one of the saddlebags.
I swallowed again at the sharp gleaming chrome and satiny-black tank. The leather seat shimmered faintly under the dull lighting, with a buttery soft luster. It was a beautiful machine, but still, intimidating.
“Here, let’s get you fixed up.” He gently took the helmet from my nerveless fingers and dropped it on my head, his swift, sure hands working at the nylon straps beneath my chin. He smiled at me gently and I tried to wrap my head around just how jazzed he was.
He put on his own and swung a leg over the bike, settling on the front seat and sticking his key in the ignition. He turned it, the lights coming on, and thumbing the switch, the bike chugged to life. I jumped. It was loud. In the enclosed space of the garage, the rumble of the engine reverberating from the cinder-block and concrete, my whole body vibrated from the bass thrum of the engine, an echo down to my very soul.
He held out a hand and I rubbed my lips together and took it. He helped me on behind him and I settled, making sure my feet were where they needed to be. I let my arms wind around his body and swallowing hard, held on tight.
“I’ll go slow to start,” he called, heeling up the kickstand. “Hold onto me. And ‒ here we go!”
My heart was in my throat as we powered up the ramps winding around and around towards the surface streets. I held onto him and followed his directions to the letter, feeling that same mixture of excitement and anticipation as when you climbed in a roller coaster, poised at the top, and ready to go over, in the center of my being.
Excitement fizzed in my veins as he pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and held it against the black pad at the garage’s exit kiosk. The arm raised and we were suddenly out on the street, the sky reaching far above, the buildings stabbing towards it like fingers, held in the palm of the city’s hand.
This was so different. Without the bubble of a car, it was the difference between watching the scenery and being a living breathing part of it. I felt myself grin and before I knew it, I couldn’t stop smiling.
We rode through the city at a sedate pace and rolled up to a stoplight, where he turned and asked me, “What do you think, you want to go faster?”
I bit my bottom lip in an effort to contain my enthusiastic smile and nodded. I think I failed miserably, because Golden threw back his head and laughed.
“’Kay, hold on! We’re gonna hit the freeway!” I got settled, held on, and he turned in the direction of the freeway’s on-ramp.
The wind had already washed over me and through me, a cleansing sensation that lifted some of the cobwebs and stripped them away, but the speed of the freeway? It lifted the final strands from me and sent them spiraling into the ether, never to be seen or heard from again. I suddenly very much understood the appeal of these machines. Bonus points that, had I still been together with Ray, he would hate that I got on one.
A bubble of laughter rose from the center of my being and escaped through my lips, and that joy was so irresistible, I couldn’t help but whoop and laugh and cheer out loud. I felt Golden laugh in front of me, and I felt so secure, I even let go with one arm, trailing my fingers in the wind’s stream like one would through an eddy of water.
We rode out over the Bay Bridge and even though I had no idea where we were going, I didn’t care. It just felt entirely too good to let loose and so I did, and simply enjoyed the ride, grateful that he’d seen fit to bring me along.
17
Golden…
I was doing Skids and Reflash a solid, heading down to a distillery in Virginia to pick up a few bottles of some liquor they used in one of their specialty drinks. They weren’t out, just wanting to restock, and I’d been itching to go for a ride anyway. The idea had struck me out of the blue to take Lys with me, and hot damn, it’d been the right idea. She was all but bursting with joy on the bike behind me and her mood was downright infectious.
I boasted a smile of my own as I navigated the long stretch of freeway ahead of us, ticking off the directions in my head, enjoying a decent cruising speed and the stillness that came with the hypnotizing rush of wind and road. Peace settled in my being and the two-or-so-hour ride flew by as if it only lasted minutes.
I took the exit we wanted and navigated cracked roads through countryside-looking areas. The distillery was tucked back along a river, trees reaching towards the sky, nature replacing the concrete and steel of Indigo City as if we’d passed from one hand to another, from father to mother.
There was something decidedly gentler about the surrounding scenery. Idyllic. The colors were more vibrant, the water placid as we passed over the old-fashioned covered wooden bridge and up the sweeping lane further into the hills. The distillery was tucked away, and even though it was a tourist spot, it wasn’t too busy,not on a Friday. We came around a bend and suddenly there it was, an old brick building that probably dated back to Civil War days.
It hadn’t always been a distillery. It’d served multiple purposes over its lifetime: tobacco, munitions, a field hospital at one point, all manner of different manufacturing gigs, until finally, about thirty or forty years ago, the distillery, looking for more space, moved on in.
They had a good tour, all about the history of the building in addition to the distilling process. I couldn’t be sure, but I was hoping it would be something that Lys might like.
I parked and shut off the bike. She got off of it carefully and stood, eyes closed and face turned to the sun, breathing in the clean air. I took a second or two longer than I probably should have to soak in the sight, still trying to decide exactly what this was.
I’d certainly dug chicks before, but this was somehow different. I was less concerned with banging her than I was with seeing her smile. When she did, smile, I mean, it was like my whole world flipped upside-down and inside-out and got lighter somehow. I wasn’t used to that shit. I mean, she was attractive, beautiful, even, but I’d been around chicks that were pretty before, and it’d never felt like this.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, opening her eyes and fixing them on me. They may have been brown but they were anything but boring; a deep brown with amber highlights in the right light.
I smiled and said, “Needed a good ride, promised Skids and Reflash I’d pick up a few bottles for their bar. They’re getting low and their distributor is out. They called down here and the distillery has them, but something about Virginia law prevents them from shipping.”
“Have you been here before?” she asked, turning to look up at the building, working at the unfamiliar strap at her chin with its ‘D’ rings.
“Come here, let me do that,” I murmured. She obediently stepped up to me and I reached up to work the straps free, saying, “And to answer your question, yes. I’ve been here before. They have a really good tour, and I thought you could stand to get out of the city for a bit.”
She gave a gusty sigh of agreement and nodded, as she ducked out from under the helmet I held in my hands.
“I didn’t realize how oppressive it was beginning to feel,” she said. “Not until we hit the bridge and the whole world felt like it suddenly opened up.”<
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I nodded and smiled, hanging her helmet off one of the handlebars and reaching up for my own.
“Sometimes you just need to get out. Get away, even for just a day and experience something new.”
She was staring back up at the building, eyes distant, seeing but not seeing, as she took in the hush of the lightly-rustling trees, the distant babbling of the river lending the serenity only the sound of cascading water could provide.
“I used to go to the botanical gardens a lot when I felt like I needed to reconnect,” she said.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mm, they closed Indigo City’s down for renovations, then everything happened with Ray and I forgot to check to see if they’ve reopened yet.” Her expression darkened at the mention of her douchebag soon-to-be-ex-husband’s name, the light dimming in her eyes. Then I saw something unprecedented. She swept her gaze from the building back to me, and the light that’d dimmed returned full-force, like the sun having been temporarily hidden by a scudding cloud.
I think I forgot to breathe for a second. The weight of that moment was profound and definitely something I’d never felt before. I mean, I couldn’t… I didn’t… shit. I didn’t know what to do with the fact that I felt like I lived to see that look on her face when she looked at me, all the time. I swallowed and found myself smiling back like a fuckin’ dope.
“What do you say? Wanna take a break from life and take a tour with me?”
Her smile grew and she bit that bottom lip of hers coyly and my heart quickened in my chest.
“I’d love to,” she said and I stood up in one fluid movement, swinging my leg over the bike and standing firm, both feet on the ground. It helped ground me and kept my head from swimming with these sudden, strong, and newfound emotions.
I didn’t think, I just ‒did‒, and held out a hand to her without thinking about it. She took it, sweeping a stray lock of her hair away from her check where the breeze had picked it up. She tucked it behind her ear and fell into step beside me. All the while I couldn’t stop thinking about how alluring that simple gesture had just been to me. Sexier than a full-on striptease.