Somewhere on a gravel road a couple hours north of Saint Louis, she finally changed clothes. Her tight, skimpy shorts with “Tony’s” emblazoned just to the left of her crotch had caused some comments when she had stopped for gas and to buy some food. But the glare of a desperate woman will keep even the most leery man at a safe distance.
After she pulled jeans and a blouse out of the boxes of her belongings, she stripped off the shorts and then the matching blouse. It felt as if she was stripping off her past life as she stood beside her car naked for several minutes, letting the sun warm her body.
She balled up the clothing as tightly as she could and threw it as far as she could into the freshly plowed field. Her underwear was buried somewhere in those boxes, but it didn’t seem worth the effort. She pulled on the jeans, slid the blouse over her head, and continued her journey south.
That feeling of warmth and happiness stayed with her while the sun was up, but the sun had set a couple hours ago, and the drizzling rain had started shortly after that. Now she was just exhausted. The two-lane road on which she was currently driving would go through the town of Flat Springs in about another twenty miles. She would stop there... if she made it that far.
Vanessa hadn’t realized how far apart the towns were in this area. The little gas pump symbol on the dash had lit up miles and miles ago. It had been beeping at her for the past twenty minutes. And then... nothing... silence.
She coasted to the edge of the highway and pulled off onto the wet gravel shoulder. She turned off the car and sat clutching the steering wheel, too exhausted to do anything more than cry.
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there crying when a soft tap on the window next to her startled her and caused her to scream. Duane had found her! But the person standing next to the car wasn’t Duane. Duane never rode a motorcycle and had often said that anyone who did so had to be a stupid, low-life loser.
There was a motorcycle next to her car, and the person standing in the dark, wearing full leathers, was too big to be Duane. He had a flashlight in his hand and was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. He held up his hand and signaled for her to lower the window. When she looked back at him in fear, he held up his thumb and forefinger showing a gap of about an inch and yelled, “So you can hear me.”
Vanessa lowered the window so that a small gap appeared at the top. “Are you all right?” the man asked. Despite his size and rather rough appearance, his voice was surprisingly gentle. Vanessa couldn’t really see him clearly with the flashlight shining through the window into her eyes, but she could tell that he was a big man--much bigger than Duane.
“Yes,” she answered. “I think I’m out of gas. I mean, the car is out of gas. I mean... I’m just very, very tired. I’ve been driving a long way today.”
“Hopefully not all the way from Minnesota,” he answered. The fear in her eyes must have told him something because he quickly added, “Your license plates. They’re Minnesota.” Then he set the flashlight on top of the car so that it was pointed at him, and stepped back so she could see him clearly.
He had that reddish-auburn hair you find a lot in the south—at least, his well-trimmed beard was that color. She couldn’t really see his hair under the dew rag with a Harley emblem that was tied around his head.
His face had that somewhat hard look that a person gets when they have seen a lot of the wrong side of life, but he was smiling and his eyes were wide and peaceful. They weren’t exactly blue, but they weren’t really green either. They seemed to change colors as he moved in the light.
“My father runs a repair shop in town,” he said. “I can take you in, if you’re willing to ride with me.” He smiled again. “Or I can send one of the deputies out to get you, but they might be on patrol on the other side of the county and it could take another hour or so.”
Vanessa unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. He continued, “My dad can bring you back out here tomorrow in his tow truck. If it is just gas, he can put enough in to get you into town. If it’s more than that, he can tow it in to his shop.”
She didn’t say anything, but stood silently beside the bike. “Make sure it’s locked,” he said. “And I’ll tag it so the county doesn’t tow it as abandoned before dad gets out here in the morning.” He opened a saddlebag and took out a small roll of plastic tape that looked like crime scene tape, only smaller, and bright green.
He tore off a piece and tied it to the driver’s side mirror. Then he put another strip on the top of the antenna. “That means it’s been checked and a tow will come for it when it’s light,” he explained. “It also means that my dad has claimed it as his tow.” He held up the tape so that Vanessa could see that it said “Brody’s” on it.
“I’m Brody, Junior,” he explained. “I’ve got a bike shop out in Colorado, but every spring when the weather first turns good, I close the shop for two weeks and make my long ride back home to see Momma. They aren’t really expecting me until tomorrow morning, so I wasn’t pushing it while it was raining.”
He smiled again. Vanessa liked seeing that smile. “Farmers around here are in the fields, and they drag some of that gumbo out onto the highway on their tires. When it gets wet it’s slicker than shit and can be a real surprise on a curve.”
“We have the same problem in Iowa on the hard roads,” said Vanessa. “Only they aren’t in the fields yet, and it won’t be warm enough for motorcycles for at least another month.”
Brody’s response was another smile and, “Welcome to the South.”
CHAPTER THREE
Vanessa climbed onto the bike behind Brody. For some reason, hugging him as he pulled onto the highway felt right. They almost made it into town before the rains came back. This time it wasn’t the light sprinkle that Vanessa had been driving in for hours. It was a solid downpour. “Only a couple of miles,” Brody yelled over his shoulder.
They pulled in under the canopy at Brody’s Auto Repair a few minutes later. by then Vanessa was totally soaked. Brody wore leathers, so except for his head and hands he was basically dry. “I was going to take you over to the motel, but I think you need to dry off and warm up first.” he said. “Why don’t you come up to my apartment for a few minutes and when the rain stops I can take you to the motel.”
Vanessa nodded her head and followed him to a door at the edge of the building. He unlocked it and said, “Apartment’s upstairs. I’ll get us something to eat. Momma always cleans it and stocks it when she knows I’m coming home. She thinks I don’t eat right out west, so there’s more than enough for both of us.” He gave Vanessa another of his smiles before going up the steps.
She followed him up into a small apartment that consisted of a kitchen, bedroom, and a small living room. “I’m sorry I don’t have a robe you can put on while I run those clothes through the dryer downstairs, but I do have some oversized work shirts from when I used to help dad downstairs.” He held up a gray shirt with a blue collar and the name “Brody Jr.” on a white patch on the pocket. It was longer than many of the dresses that Vanessa normally wore.
“You just go in the bathroom and get yourself a shower. Throw your clothes out the door into the bedroom. When I hear the bathroom door close, I’ll come in and get them and take them downstairs. Dad’s got a washer and dryer down there because mom won’t let him bring his work clothes home to wash them. I’ll run them through the dryer and they’ll be ready by the time we finish eating.”
Vanessa did as Brody had suggested. She threw her wet clothing out onto the floor of the bedroom and stepped into the shower. It felt warm and wet and wonderful. She wanted to just stay in there and luxuriate in the warmth, but she didn’t want to keep Brody waiting too long. The shirt was big enough that she didn’t bother to unbutton it, but slipped it on like a nightshirt.
As she pulled the shirt over her head, she caught the slight smell of man. Brody smelled like a good man, she thought. Maybe you couldn’t smell good or evil, but Tony and the manager at the d
iner both smelled… off in some way the first time she’d met them. It wasn’t until later that she realized how evil they were. Maybe that was the smell of evil. She lifted the front of the shirt to her nose and inhaled deeply. Yes, Brody smelled like a good man.
After making an attempt to clear her hair of tangles with the comb by the sink, Vanessa stepped back into the kitchen. Brody was at the stove heating something in a large pan. Something else that smelled very good, was warming in the microwave. “Momma trusts me to pan-fry potatoes,” he said. “But she doesn’t trust me doing anything to her barbequed pork but warm it in the microwave. Things will be ready in a minute. There’s beer, water, and pop in the refrigerator. Help yourself.”
Vanessa noted that there was a bottle of beer sitting at the table next to one of the place settings, and decided to copy Brody by opening a bottle and setting it next to her on the table. A few minutes later, a steaming plate of pan-fried potatoes and pork was sitting in front of her.
As they ate, Brody seemed to be watching her, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask why she was alone and apparently on the run a thousand miles from her home. He didn’t ask who she was running from. He did ask if she liked the pork and then, as he went to the refrigerator, asked if she wanted another bottle of beer. She held up her half-full bottle and he said, “OK,” and pulled out a bottle for himself.
As he sat back down, Vanessa looked at the two tattoos on Brody’s biceps. One was a Harley emblem with the words “Ride Free or Die” above it. Beneath it in elaborate script it said “Free Riders.”
The other tattoo was the Marine Corps eagle, globe and anchor with the words “Semper Fi” beneath it. Brody could see where she was looking and lifted his T shirt slightly to reveal to the complete emblem.
“Afghanistan,” he said rather quietly. He lifted the shirt higher to reveal four names on his arm above the eagle. “I came back,” he said. After a long silence, he added with a slightly more throaty voice, “They didn’t.” Then he sat quietly sipping at his beer. He still hadn’t asked anything, but somehow it was clear to Vanessa that he would be willing to listen.
She started with “It seemed like an easy way to pay off my college debts.” When Brody still made no comment, she began at the beginning and started talking. Suddenly everything poured out of her like vile black acid.... dancing... Duane... the courts... the fear... the sleazy manager, and slimy Tony.
She felt so much lighter..., freer..., cleaner..., to finally be able to tell someone the whole story. She finished with, “So here I am in Flat Springs, Arkansas, broke, exhausted, and trying to put my life back together.”
There were several minutes of silence while Brody looked at her and sipped slowly on his beer. “I guess that means that our town motel is above your price range?” he finally said.
Vanessa nodded slowly.
“You can stay here on the couch tonight. Or, if you really need a bed, I will take the couch. We can talk to dad in the morning. He might need a little bookkeeping help and would probably be willing to hire you for a while. I’ll be going back to Colorado in a couple days, so you can stay up here until you can get on your feet.”
Vanessa’s only answer was tears streaming down her face.
“I’m going to run downstairs and grab your jeans and top out of the dryer,” he said as he stood up, “And then we’ll get these dishes cleaned up.” As he walked to the door he added, “Afterwards, I’ll see if that old TV is still working. Even if it is, there’s not a lot of choice. In this weather I don’t think any of the Little Rock stations will come in clear.”
Brody returned a few moments later. He set her clothes on the couch in the living room area and went over to the sink. “I’ll wash, you dry,” he said. Vanessa picked up the towel that was hanging on the handle of the oven and stood next to him. For the next few minutes they stood side by side in silence except for the clatter of the dishes and the splash of the water.
Finally everything was cleaned up and Vanessa turned to hang the towel back in its place. She turned back just as Brody turned from the sink and suddenly they were standing face to face just inches apart. Vanessa reached up and put her arms around Brody’s neck, said “Thank you,” and kissed him.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was just supposed to be a peck on the cheek... a small token of appreciation. But her lips seemed to move on their own to his. Her face moved forward to press her mouth against his, as her body pushed itself tightly against him. Suddenly she was warm inside... warmer that July.
After much too short a time, Brody broke the kiss and said, “I don’t know that you want to do that. You’ve been through a lot today and aren’t yourself tonight.” He sighed. “And, unless you’re stupid enough to come into my shop and tell the boys who are hanging around that you want to join the Free Riders, I don’t take advantage of vulnerable, beautiful women.”
He called her beautiful. She clung even more tightly to him.
“And I’m not a saint,” he added with a slightly different smile. “If you don’t back up a little, my lower brain is going to start doing my thinking for me and we’ll both end up in bed for the night.”
He pulled himself away and turned to walk into the living room area. “There’s a basketball game on channel 4,” he said. “Before KARK went digital, I could always rely on pulling that channel in, but now, even with a new antenna and that fancy converter the government gave us, half the time it looks like the picture’s been run through a blender.”
He sat down on the couch across from the TV. Vanessa sat beside him. She wanted so much to snuggle up against him. She wanted to hold him and be held by him, but it was as if he was putting up a wall.
Was that wall to keep her out? Or was that wall to keep something else in? His face showed nothing. She thought she detected an overcast of sadness to his eyes, but maybe that was just the reflection of her own thoughts and emotions.
“Do you follow the Gophers?” he suddenly asked.
“What?” she answered in surprise.
“You’re from Minneapolis. Do you follow the Golden Gophers—the University of Minnesota basketball team.”
“I’m actually from Iowa,” she replied, not sure where the conversation was going.
“Oh, that’s right. So are you a Hawkeye or a Cyclone?”
“I really don’t follow basketball all that much,” she answered, now sure that he was talking sports to avoid any other topic. “Actually, I don’t follow sports all that much. I like to do active things, and don’t mind athletic games, but I’m not into watching others do sports. I like baseball, but primarily because it’s played in the summertime outdoors. Indoor baseball parks like the Twins used to have just didn’t seem right.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, both pretending to watch the game through the distorted picture. Finally Vanessa said in a soft voice, “Did I scare you off when I told you about how messed up my life has been?”
“Not exactly,” was all Brody answered. She waited for him to say more, but it was obvious that he was capable of very long periods of total silence.
Finally, Vanessa decided to once again try to break the ice for a real conversation. “‘Not exactly’ means ‘Yes, but not quite.’ What about me scares you? You’re pulling away from me like I was ringing a bell and chanting, ‘Leper... Leper... Leper..’”
He smiled, and almost laughed. “Oh, you are definitely not a leper,” he said as he patted her on her leg just above the knee. “And that is definitely not the hooded robe that a leper used to hide his body.”
“But you are afraid,” she asked. “Something about me makes you afraid, doesn’t it?”
“Not exactly,” he replied in what had become his normal, flat voice.
Anger flared in Vanessa and she turned to say something heated, but then she saw that his eyes were not flat. They had a twinkle in them that had not been there before. He was toying with her, but at the same time he was placing more bricks in that wall he was buildin
g to keep them apart.
“Want another beer?” he asked. “I figure there is about a beer’s worth of game left if you sip it slowly.”
“I’ll get it,” Vanessa volunteered as she stood and walked into the kitchen. As she put the empties on the counter and opened the refrigerator for two more, she looked back at Brody. Something was not right. She wasn’t exactly throwing herself at him—she would have if she thought that would make a difference—but he wasn’t responding at all. She had been forced to push men away before who were lusting after her body, but this was the first time that she was trying to encourage a man and he was backing away.
A thought entered her mind and she scrunched up her face for a moment. Gay? No way! Dancers and waitresses have the best gaydar in the world. You have to have a different approach for a gay man—or woman—to keep the tips flowing. Dancers and waitresses know. Vanessa knew. Brody wasn’t gay. There was something else going on under that rough, biker exterior that was causing him to push her away.
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