by L. M. Carr
I looked around for somewhere to set the food down so I could attend to my injured finger.
Without a moment’s notice, Mr. Leathers raised my hand to his mouth and tilted his head slightly.
“Allow me.”
I swallowed hard when I felt his lips part and his teeth grazed my skin. I was completely mesmerized when he clamped his teeth down on the sharp glass and pulled it out. My tongue darted out to lick my dry lips.
He spat the shard to the broken and cracked concrete. “All better.”
I expected him to drop my hand after I thanked him, but he didn’t. He again lifted my hand and slid my thumb into his mouth, his warm tongue sucking gently, purposefully, on the pad while his eyes remained fixed on mine.
I sighed like a damn fool.
A rush of adrenaline followed by a sudden surge of heat raced through my body at the simple, yet loaded, touch.
I had no idea what was going on; I’d never felt this before with anyone.
He lowered my hand and smiled. That smile again.
“Let’s get you some new drinks. Seems you’ve spilled lemonade all over us.”
I looked at his leather suit and noticed the remnants of where the liquid splashed.
“Sorry.”
After arguing that he didn’t need to replace my drinks especially given the fact it was my fault, I stood quietly and waited at his insistence.
I was handed a sturdy beverage holder along with another one of his smiles.
In my peripheral vision, I saw John making his way over to us. I nodded my thanks once again and turned, making my way over to my boyfriend.
“Hey. What took you so long?” he asked, detaching a drink from the holder.
“I got into a fight with the lemonade.” I spread my arms wide and looked down at my drenched shirt. “Clearly, I lost.” I chuckled.
“We’re leaving in about an hour. Do you mind sticking around until then?”
I offered a quick shrug, suddenly interested in the motorcycle races that were beginning in less than fifteen minutes.
John took the tray of food and popped a curly fry into his mouth as we walked back toward the ambulance.
I knew I shouldn’t have looked back and glanced at Mr. Leathers, but I did. With his head looking over his shoulder, I caught his eye and guilt flooded me when I allowed him to hold my attention for a moment too long. I looked over his shoulder to where Strong was slowly walking over with a deep scowl and furrowed brows. He also held my attention for a moment too long.
The beast of a man in black followed my eyes then looked back at me. His lips tugged into a knowing, sly grin before he turned his head, continuing to stand in line for his order. Silver block letters stitched closely together spelled “PARKER” across the wide expanse of his leather-covered back.
PARKER.
I only made it twenty steps when lust urged me to look back. My eyes grew wide when I noticed the two men, Parker and Strong, standing there, watching me. Feeling guilty, I made myself turn away.
I followed a clueless John back to the bench near the ambulance and ate the barely warm cheeseburger while we waited with anticipation for the races to begin again.
“Up next, ladies and gentleman, we have the race you’ve all been waiting for. Lined up on the right is Alex Parker and to his left Tyler Strong. These two have been going head to head for some time. Let’s see what happens today.”
I craned my neck and tiptoed against the chain link fence, hoping to get a better view. Strong was seated on his bike, his hands rested on his thighs, and his head hung low beneath his helmet. Minutes later, the two men revved up their motorcycles and created thick clouds of smoke beneath their rear tires. I could’ve run up and climbed to the highest level of the aluminum stands, but I didn’t. I felt closer to the action on the ground. And I had an even clearer view of the man named Parker.
There was such a feeling of excitement in the air; it was almost tangible.
John leaned over and yelled in my ear, competing with the noise and rumble of the crowd.
“I’ve got money on this race.”
“What?” I chuckled lightly because John was as straight and narrow as they came.
“It’s no big deal. I put a few bucks down on the guy in the left lane.”
Strong.
“Why?” I asked. “You don’t know a thing about either one of them.”
John twisted to face me as he raised an eyebrow and smirked. He was used to my passive way; this contention took him by surprise. With narrowed eyes, he stared at me, probably trying to figure out where Karrie, the girl who always went along with whatever he said, went.
It’s the same look that appeared on his face when I told him I wasn’t going to Tennessee with him.
His chest rose and fell as he looked at the two motorcycles lined up at the far end of the track. “The guy on the right is a complete douche.” His face contorted while his voice dripped with disgust.
Parker.
“How would you know that?” I wondered aloud as I snapped my teeth then proceeded to shake my head, adding in a subtle roll of my eyes.
John gave me another sideways glance. “He’s got a reputation around here. He’s a D & D.”
I laughed dryly, not appreciating his tone. “D & D?”
“Yeah. He’s a dick and a douchebag.”
What sounded like thunder followed by a freight train drew my attention back to the stretch of asphalt before me. I watched with rapt attention as the two motorcycles barreled down at insane speeds. My head snapped from right to left as they flew past, side by side as if they were one.
The crowd cheered when a light on the right lane illuminated with the numbers seven-five-two, indicating Parker to be the winner.
“Shit!” John roared in my ear, slamming his hand down on the top of the fence. “Son of a bitch!”
I stood there for a moment, completely and utterly baffled by my boyfriend’s reaction to some silly bike race. With rounded shoulders and his head hung low, John shuffled back to the ambulance then kicked the back tire.
I realized then he’d bet a whole lot more than just a “few bucks” and lost. Big time.
Enraptured by the thrill in the air, I continued to stare down the track as the two racers slowed their pace and circled around along the side.
A thrill shot threw me the moment Parker rolled past me. It wasn’t seeing him on the bike that made me shiver. As if time stood still, Parker and I were alone. He raised a gloved hand and lifted the clear visor of his helmet to look at me. In return, I removed my sunglasses and brought my hand up to my eyebrows, shielding the sun. Even though there had to have been two hundred people in the crowd, I knew the crinkling of his eyes as he smiled and the deliberate wink were for me. I felt it in my bones.
My head fell forward, my eyes looked at the gravel as my cheeks flamed red and a rush of excitement raced through me.
When I looked up, the second racer was now watching me, but he wasn’t smiling, he was snarling with narrowed eyes. I thought it might be a good idea to give up racing if he were going to be such a sore loser for having lost. I kept my gaze on him and followed his line of sight to the blonde I’d seen earlier at the concession stand. She didn’t look too happy.
The two men were lost to a sea of black leather.
He smiled at me I’d thought with a smile of my own. And then I remembered what John called him. “D & D.”
And I felt guilty.
I found John sitting on a rock, still pouting like an overindulged brat.
“You ready to go?” I asked, offering a gentle rub of his back.
Air filled his cheeks before he allowed it to release through rounded lips.
“You probably shouldn’t bet,” I teased. “Stick to saving lives. It’s what you’re good at.” I leaned over and kissed the top of head.
***
TWO WEEKS LATER, I accompanied John once again to the race track for the final race of the season. I didn’t really want to
go, but I felt as though I’d been summoned. Someone… something, was calling me, beckoning me to stand amongst all the others in the crowd, subjecting myself to a brutal beating of the late summer sun.
I walked over to the same spot as I had once before, claiming it to be mine and mine alone even though John stood by my side.
Immediately I recognized the two motorcycle drag racers. Parker and Strong were once again lined up side by side, motors revved up, tires spinning, creating a cloud of white. A tiny smile crept on my face, and I silently wished Parker “good luck.”
“C’mon, douchebag. Win this race.” John mumbled through clenched teeth.
I laughed as I turned and looked at him. “That’s not very nice, you know.”
As if he were mesmerized by the whole situation, he whispered, “He just needs to win. I need him to win.”
Again, both racers moved up to the line and stared straight ahead. The intensity on both their faces matched the hard grips of the clutch and throttle. I had no reason to be nervous, but I was. I feared for Parker’s safety. A hollow pit developed in my stomach as they both launched and came barreling down the quarter mile track.
My palms grew sweaty and my heart beat faster. Then Parker’s rear tire began to fishtail from left to right. He managed to straighten out only to begin the sideways motion again. And then CRASH! In an instant, Parker’s body was thrown into the air and tumbled like a leather-clad ragdoll behind his motorcycle until he eventually stopped a few feet from the finish line.
While I panicked and screamed a repeated cry of “Oh my God! Oh my God!”, John cursed and moaned about having lost another bet.
“Smith! Let’s go!” Gary, the other EMT called John’s name.
Strong raised a fist in victory but circled back around immediately after crossing the finish line. He practically threw his bike to the ground before ripping his black helmet off and dropping down to his knees, yelling at his opponent.
Running full speed behind them as they rushed onto the scene, I came to an abrupt halt where Parker laid motionless on the black tar. I couldn’t believe this man so full of life now was dead. His days on Earth were done. And for what? The adrenaline rush of racing a motorcycle down a straight strip of road.
Strong was told to move, but he didn’t listen.
“Get your ass up so I can beat you fair and square. You hear me?” He lifted Parker’s visor and spoke directly to the man who remained seemingly lifeless.
A deep, raspy voice emerged from Parker.
“I let you have that one, kid.”
“Asshole!” The younger racer laughed.
When Parker turned his head in my direction, I released a huge sigh of relief at the sound of his voice and that smile. I didn’t understand the feelings I was experiencing; this man was nothing to me. Nothing at all.
He couldn’t stand on his own two feet without leaning to one side, even with Strong offering support. Despite that fact, it still took serious negotiating from Gary and John to convince Parker to get evaluated.
“I’m alright!” he kept saying. It was more than obvious he didn’t like to depend on anyone.
I stepped forward as my traitorous mouth opened and spoke while my eyes softened and beckoned him to listen.
“Just let them check you out. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“You going to be there, angel?” His eyes traveled the length of my body from my hair pulled back in a ponytail to my flip flops. And back up again.
The eyes of all three men snapped at me and I gulped. A wave of heat surged through me and although I was embarrassed, I was flattered at the attention. I loved the way he looked at me. I loved the sound of his voice. I loved feeling desired. I loved it all. But I hated that my boyfriend was staring at me with confusion and hurt on his face.
“Let me help you,” I offered when Parker once again lost his footing. So together, Strong and I each took one of Parker’s arms, slung it over our shoulders, crossed our other arm across his back and walked him to the ambulance.
With a quick shake of my head, I rebuffed John’s attempts to intervene and then offered an apologetic shy smile at Strong when our fingers accidently touched. Instead of a smile in return, I received the same harsh expression he wore weeks earlier. Disgust was back in place on his face. It was a shame because he was a really great looking guy.
One might even call him hot.
I rode in the ambulance with Parker at his insistence. John practically barked at me to leave the patient alone every time Parker tried to talk to me. When John turned to look at the small monitor mounted in the corner, Parker, with his neck firmly secured in a brace, squeezed my hand to get my full attention and then he winked at me.
John and I had the biggest argument we’d ever had in our relationship. Well, he yelled while I remained silent. What could I say to defend myself? I didn’t ask to be hit on by Alexander Parker. I didn’t ask to be the object of his affections, but clearly I was.
***
“KARRIE,” JOHN STARTED before he hesitated. “I think we should see other people. I’m going to Tennessee and since you won’t come with me, I don’t think it’s fair to be tied down. I’m sure you’ll find someone else, too.”
My boyfriend didn’t have to say the words, but I knew he was referring to Alex, the man who started showing up at my job and begging to take me out to lunch as a way to thank me for helping him that day at the track. I declined and declined…until I finally gave in.
It was supposed to be lunch, but we’d spent the afternoon talking and ended up having dinner together. I found him intriguing and knowledgeable. He could talk about anything because he was older and had experienced so much more that I had. He lived a full life and wasn’t looking to slow down.
I knew in my heart that John wasn’t the one for me, but never did I think Alexander Parker would be. Less than a year later, I became Mrs. Parker.
John texted me several times right before my wedding. He warned me about Alex’s philandering ways, but that wasn’t who he was anymore. He was no longer the D & D. He was my husband. And together we lived a full life, traveling to tropical destinations, dining at the best restaurants and rubbing elbows with a few A list celebrities he’d met along the way from racing.
Everyone wanted a piece of Alex Parker, but he was mine.
All mine.
“HEY, YOU!” ODESSA calls as I walk into the lounge area to warm up my dinner. “What are you doing here?”
I unzip my bag and remove the Tupperware of lasagna my mother packed after last night’s dinner and toss it in the microwave. I haven’t been in the mood to eat or even cook. Who the hell wants to cook for one anyway? That’s almost as bad as going to a restaurant and asking for a “table for one.” Pressing the buttons on the flat surface, I watch the food rotate until it dings.
“Karrie! Did you hear me?” Odessa asks pushing the fork away from my mouth. “Don’t ignore me!”
I glare at her. “I heard you. What do you think I’m doing? I’m working. I do have a job to do.” I proceed to eat my dinner.
“It’s only been six days since…” she whispers with a voice filled with sympathy before it trails off.
“I know exactly how many days it’s been since my husband died.”
The walls start closing in on me, the air too thick to inhale. My chest tightens with anxiety and pain. Rising quickly, I toss my dinner, container and all, into the garbage can and walk out of the room without a single word.
I wander the floors, riding the elevators up and down, stopping to look at the newborn babies and then torture myself by standing outside the morgue. I ignore the stares and whispers.
On the way back to my floor, I walk past the MRI center and freeze. Lying perfectly still on the hospital bed, Tyler is wheeled past me. His face is swollen and his eyes are shut. If it weren’t for the machines, one would think he were sleeping peacefully.
“How’s he doing?” I ask the transporter whose nametag reads “Curtis.
”
He raises an eyebrow, indicating either he doesn’t know or he can’t tell me. Damn HIPPA law.
“He’s my husband’s best friend.”
With a pitiful look on his face, Curtis realizes who I am and offers his condolences.
I thank him and glance at Tyler. My heart fills with remorse for not having been nicer to him. For so long I’ve hated Tyler Strong and now as he lay motionless and helpless before me, I can’t help but feel sorry for him.
The irony of the situation is almost comical.
Almost.
“Is he going to make it?” I ask, running my hand along the bed rail, holding it still.
Curtis looks uncomfortable. “It’s hard to say. I’m not a doctor, but I think with each passing day that he remains in this coma, his chances decrease.”
I know this, but it’s not what I was hoping to hear.
“Has anyone come by to see him?”
His lips narrow into a tight line and he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I just transport.”
Sympathy washes over me at the idea that he may have no family. I don’t remember Alex ever talking about one. I sigh with sadness. “He’s all alone.”
“Actually, now that I think about it…I think I’ve seen a petite blonde hanging around at night.”
“A blonde?” Penny.
“Yeah, the last time I had to transport she was there crying over him.”
Something stirs in me and I lean over to inspect Tyler closely. I caress his unshaven cheek as moisture creeps into my eyes. This man, this broken man, meant so much to my husband. He was his closest friend and confidante.
“Listen here, Strong. Alex wouldn’t want to see you like this so pull yourself together alright! You’ve got a little one on the way who is going to need a daddy so cut the shit and wake up.”
With the tips of my fingers, I comb his wayward hair to the side, his natural part no longer visible.
“I don’t know what to do with all of Alex’s things so I’m going to need your help.”
Curtis walks forward and presses the elevator button. The doors slide open and he wheels Tyler in.