Ridge Creek

by C L Green

  I remember smirking at her words because I hadn’t yet told her about my friend Emma. She had no idea how big the breach of the inner sanctum was about to become.

  Swiping one last brush full of mascara onto my eyelashes, I sense movement to my left and swing to see Jake leaning in the doorway.

  Jake.

  I haven’t seen Jake for nearly three full days. After leaving me lying in bed thinking he was a cheeky bastard, I only saw him for five more minutes later that day. He’d turned up in my room, announced he had ‘business’ to take care of and he had to head out for a few days. A short time later I heard a truck pull up in the laneway beside the shop. The truck then left again, followed shortly after by the familiar deep sound of Harley pipes. I hadn’t seen or heard from Jake since.

  Zane had however appeared in my room a short while later to tell me he was around if I needed him.

  And that was that.

  Not that the past three days had dragged. Not at all.

  This was because I had plenty of amusement receiving and opening the constant flow of parcels that were delivered to my room by various annoyed looking bikers. I think it was the sheer volume of parcels delivered direct to me that had caused the annoyance. What could I say, I’m an excellent online shopper and I can make my dollars stretch.

  I’d also spent an entire afternoon with Eva on one day and then spent another full afternoon cleaning out and setting up Emma’s room. Aided by Zane and another biker called ‘Bitch’ (who had yet to reveal his real name to me), the room was cleared, the wooden floor swept and the bed set-up. There is no other furniture in the room at this point, but I’m sure Emma and I will remedy that after she arrives.

  Another break to the monotony had been the arrival of Simon the doctor to remove the stitches on my back and… other places. I was healing fast and all was well. There was going to be a fair bit of scarring over my back and ass but compared to being dead, scarring was a small issue.

  I’d also spent a few hours each day hanging at the bar in the communal room meeting what felt like a constant merry-go-round of new bikers who came and went regularly. I soon learned the roar of Harley pipes was a constant at Jake and Zanes.

  Stopping midstroke at my eyelash, my mouth drops open as I register that he’s back. A small thrill of excitement courses through my blood as I take in the view that is Jake leaning in the doorway.

  He looks good.

  As usual.

  With waves of badass coolness rolling off his hulk of a body, I find myself first staring at his enormous chest and then sliding my eyes up to his mouth. Lingering there a bit too long, I hear myself sigh as I flick my eyes up and let out a breathy, “Hi.”

  Way to go Ari – you probably sound like a bitch on heat.

  Lifting an eyebrow, I watch as a fleeting look of amusement crosses his face and one side of his mouth curls slightly. As a few beats pass, I realize I am still holding my mascara brush up to my face so I swing back to the mirror to finish my make-up.

  Get a grip.

  It is as I start swiping at my eyelashes again that his deep, gravelly voice rumbles , “Is you’re girl arriving today?”

  Hi to you to.

  Clearly bikers don’t greet people after long absences.

  Duly noted.

  I mentally count my days backwards and decide it’s been four days since my brief conversation with Emma. Today is Friday and it’s likely she could arrive today.

  Nodding, I ask, “Probably, why?”

  “Because I just got a call from the bloke out the front and he’s telling me there’s a crazy woman with a fucking parrot in the shop front. Both she and the parrot are screeching your name.”

  Letting out a small scream of excitement, I jam the mascara brush back in its cover and throw it down on the bathroom sink. Without a second’s hesitation, I launch for the door. Jake steps back to let me through and I don’t give him a second thought as I charge down the hallway and start negotiating the maze of rooms to the communal room and then through to the shop front.

  I hear Emma as I am crossing the communal room.

  “These are farking cool man!”

  Ripping the door open and flying through it, I find myself standing behind the front counter staring straight into Emma’s eyes as she stands on the other side of the counter staring back.

  We both freeze for a few beats. I freeze because she looks different. She freezes because I look different too.

  Holy shit.

  She has obviously taken the whole living out the back of a biker shop seriously. Used to seeing Emma dressed in stylish three-quarter pants, expensive open toed shoes and button down shirts, she’s decided to break the mould.

  Standing before me is a woman who has ‘biker bitch’ written all over her.

  Dressed in tight black jeans, knee-high lace up biker boots and a black double-breasted biker jacket, I barely recognize her. It’s only because her signature long, straight, shiny black hair is hanging around her face and it’s framing her stormy gray eyes that I know it’s my Emma.

  Blinking rapidly, my eyes slide to her shoulder where a bright green parrot with a huge yellow beak sits staring at me. My eyes then slide to her right hand, which she has held out in front her. This is because she is wielding an enormous Bowie knife with a wooden handle and a Harley Davidson logo, complete with the winged eagle running along its blade.

  I find my face splitting into the biggest smile I’ve felt in ages.

  Emma is here.

  In the same instant, Emma’s face screws up and her eyes flash angrily. “What the fuck? Arianna?” She screeches loudly at the same time as a second, “Arianna!” Echoes from the parrot on her shoulder.

  Ignoring her angry look I round the counter to shorten the distance between us. I figure she’s angry because she can see the leftover yellow bruising through my make-up. Grabbing her around the shoulders while trying to avoid the humungous knife and the parrot, I start hugging her. As I hug, tears start springing to my eyes.

  Happy tears. Relieved tears. Thank God you’re here tears.

  Only allowing me to hug her for about two heart beats, she pushes me away with her free hand. With the angry look still on her face, she announces, “Fuck it woman, that thing,” she throws a suspicious glance towards the biker behind the counter, “with a photo I made for you is so not going to work anymore. You’ve got a great look going on but you can’t have blue eyes on your thing and then green ones in the flesh. Fuck, Fuck, Faaark. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? God damn it, I should have asked you for a current photo.”

  Rubbing my eyes I try to blink away the tears. These colored contacts are still giving me trouble and it’s been two whole days. Crying and squinting causes them to slide across my eyeball slightly. When they do this, they throw small blurry shadows across my eyes as the colored rings cover my pupils momentarily. It’s an irritation, but one I am happy to endure compared to say, being dead.

  Looking perplexed, Emma continues her rant. “What the fuck are you crying for? It’s not that big of an issue. I’ve done all the hard yards and set up the electronic signature shit. I’ve only gotta change the photo and print a fresh one. I’ve bought all my gear with me. I can do it right now if it that’s much of an issue.”

  She pauses briefly again to give the biker behind the counter another suspicious look then swings her eyes back to me. “Fark. Please stop crying. You never cry. Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you? And should we be talking about this shit in front of him?”

  She tips her chin to the biker who I now look to see is sitting stock-still with a blank expression on his face. Jake has appeared behind him. He too has a blank expression on his face. An emotionless look that I can’t read.

  I instantly decide bikers are good at not showing emotion.

  Wiping the last of my tears away, I grin and chuckle. “He’s cool, they’re all cool here. And I’m not crying about the ID you stupid woman, I’m crying because I’m happy to see you.�
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  “Oh,” she pauses for a few beats. “Well I’m happy to see you too. Meet Jambo,” she announces as she jerks her chin to the parrot on her shoulder and then her eyes slide back to Jake. “I bought him off an old Swahili guy in a service station on the outskirts of Melbourne. The guy told me his name but I couldn’t pronounce it and it sounded stupid. The bird kept saying Jambo to me in the car so I’ve renamed him to that. It’s easier to remember.”

  “Right,” I smile at her as my eyes follow hers to Jake. He lifts his eyebrows at me and smirks.

  Continuing her inspection of Jake, Emma continues, “I taught him to say Arianna on the way here. He’s a fast learner.” I watch as Jake’s eye move to the parrot and Emma swings back to face me. “Fuck he’s good looking, please tell me he’s single.”

  “Um, well… yeah… sort of, in a complicated way I suppose he is,” I mumble not sure how I feel about announcing this to my best friend who is now sporting a look of unadulterated carnal lust.

  Narrowing her eyes at me, I watch as activity blazes behind her eyes. “Right. Gotcha. Off limits yeah?”

  Unable to develop words at the speed at which she assumes something is going on between Jake and me, I find myself chewing my bottom lip as my eyes swing back to Jake. He’s grinning now, staring at me with a devilish smirk that makes his green eyes flash and shows his perfect white teeth.

  “You got a brother?” Emma continues without hesitation, swinging her attention back to Jake.

  Swinging his eyes to Emma his lips quiver slightly but he remains silent.

  “Talkative aren’t we,” Emma announces as she suddenly realizes she is still holding the big ass knife. I say this because she glances down at her hand, startles and then grins. “I’ll take it!” She yells with enthusiasm.

  Glancing to the knife I ask, “What do you need a huge hunting knife for?”

  “To stab that mother fucker ex-boyfriend of yours up the ass of course. If he gets within a kilometer of you, I’m gunna hunt his ass down and tear him a new one with my new big ass knife.”

  That’s when Jake finally breaks the silence. “That knife’s a collector’s item. It’s meant for shelf display. It’s not really intended for ass ripping,” he rumbles with clear amusement.

  Snapping her eyes back to Jake, Emma asks, “Is the fucker sharp?”

  Jake nods and grins.

  “Then I don’t give a fuck.” Looking back to me she starts grinning too. “Now all I gotta find is a trendy knife sheath thingy that will work with my new look and not get in Jambo’s way. I’m going for a badass biker slash pirate look, the knife will add character.”

  *****

  It’s my first Friday night in the communal room and it’s packed. Whether this is normal for a Friday night, I don’t know. Whether it’s a ripple effect of Emma being here, I don’t know. I do, however, have my suspicions.

  Suspicions based on how fast a bunch of badass bikers got over the female invasion to their inner sanctum once they laid eyes on Emma. Me, they appeared to accept because they were under threat from Jake not to upset me. Emma however, they were all falling over themselves to impress, because they wanted to.

  Sitting at the bar between Eva and Emma (Eva returned as promised), we are working our way through a bottle of tequila together. Emma was quick to embrace the biker woman ethos of no wine and tonight she plans to test our limits on tequila shooters. Always one to accept a challenge, she had made a fast decision that we would learn to shoot the most disgusting, vile, top-shelf alcohol there was.

  Tequila.

  It tastes like crap and it burns like sin as it goes down. It also doesn’t take many shots to get a buzz. Perfect.

  So we are buzzing, I am relaxing and we are having a great time. This is partially because of the great company (Eva and Emma) and partially because of Jake’s close proximity.

  Jake is once again sitting on the other side of the bar from us. He is freshly showered and his silky black hair is still damp and clinging slightly to the sides of his face. He is wearing dark blue jeans, a plain black t-shirt and a kickass, black leather motorbike jacket with an offset zip down the front.

  The jacket is cool.

  So cool that I plan to order a female version online as soon as I can.

  Slightly distracted by Jake, my attention draws back to Eva as she shrieks, “Jambo! Here it is.” Eva has been Googling the meaning of Jambo. The parrot says his name constantly. To everyone and everything.

  Looking across the room to watch as Jambo struts himself up and down the edge of the pool table she announces, “It’s Swahili for hello!”

  Glancing at the annoyed glares Jambo is getting from the two bikers using the pool table, I turn back to Emma grinning. Emma grins back at me for a beat and then we start our latest wave of riotous laughter. I laugh so hard that my ribs hurt. Trying to control my laughter I take a huge breath while I announce, “You called your parrot ‘hello’?”

  She stops laughing for a moment, pushes out a huge loud, “Hah!” and starts laughing again. I can’t help myself and follow suit, banging my hands on the bar as I let rip.

  It is not long into this latest round of roaring laughter that I hear a familiar loud, rumbly, “Jesus,” grunted from behind us. Flicking my eyes to Jake, I grin as I watch his eyes move over the top of my head before his face breaks into a wide smile as he greets his brother.

  “Brother, seriously. You sticking to the story you found her lying on the side of the road?” Zane continues as he rounds the bar and settles himself on a stool next to Jake. Settling his vivid blue eyes on me, I grin at him as he flashes me a warm, friendly smile.

  And then I watch as his smile fades to confusion when his eyes slide to my right and settle on Emma. Scrunching his brows together he says, “And then she phoned a fuckin’ good-looking friend?”

  I hear Jake chuckle as he leans over to grab his brother a beer from the bar fridge behind him as he says, “Yeah.”

  Sliding the beer in front of his brother, I watch as Zane’s eyes stay locked on Emma. Picking the beer up slowly and taking a long pull I can see a lot of activity happening behind his eyes. It is at this point that I realize that Emma and Eva have silenced.

  Flicking my eyes briefly to Eva on my left I see she is staring at Emma. Slicing my eyes back to Emma I find myself grinning. She is sitting stock-still, staring openmouthed at Zane.

  Speechless.

  I grin because I have only ever witnessed one other event in Emma’s life that left her lost for words. It had been when she was having her photo taken with Chad Kreuger at a Nickelback concert. She had been babbling excitedly as we waited in line for her turn. She had even been babbling excitedly as she moved into position in front of the background poster like all the other people had done before us. It was only when he’d slid his arm around her waist for the photographer that she’d finally gone into shock and clammed up. The photo turned out hilarious because the look of shock on her face was similar to the one I was seeing now. I have never let her live that one down. Her one shot at a great photo with Chad and she poses in a stupid, openmouthed gawk.

  Leaning close to her ear I whisper, “The brother.”

  Startling suddenly, I watch as she breaks from her stupid looking trance and swings her eyes to me. “That’s the fuckin’ brother of the guy who picked you up off the side of the road?”

  I nod.

  She grins.

  Jake laughs.

  Zane mutters, “Fuck me,” and then takes another pull on his beer.

  “Please...” Emma murmurs as she swings her eyes back to Zane.

  Zane smiles. Big.

  Eva cuts in loudly. “Dingo, get your ass over here and show me some lovin’. The sexual tension at this fucking bar is setting me off.”

  We start laughing as Dingo looks up from a table where he is sitting with Bill. He’s on the move towards Eva within a heartbeat.

  *****

  It’s late.

  I’m drunk.

&
nbsp; Not just a bit drunk. Blotto drunk.

  Leaning forward with my head on the bar, I am facing to my right, staring into Emma’s stormy gray eyes. She’s drunk too. Her head is also on the bar, turned to her left so she can stare back at me. Neither of us can sit up. We are definitely not able to walk to our rooms.

  We’ve been communicating this to each through short bursts of conversation interspersed with long periods of drunken staring. A short while ago, we both decided that this could be a problem.

  I am vaguely aware the place is much quieter than it was earlier. Many of the bikers have gone home. Eva left over an hour ago after passing out at the bar. Dingo carried her out the door firefighter style, slung over his back.

  “This is more fun than feeding starving children in Sudan.” Emma mumbles softly as she continues to stare at me through half shut eyelids. “I think.”

  I consider her words slowly wondering why she is referencing starving children in Sudan. And then I remember. She explained earlier that she told her parents she was off to Sudan for a two-year stint as a volunteer. A volunteer setting up computer networks and feeding starving children in refugee camps. A rather farfetched excuse for packing up everything and vanishing off the face of the earth.

  Funnily, for most people, this excuse would seem farfetched. But not for Emma. Raised as a spoiled rich kid with an enormous trust fund, she has lived her life at full throttle, doing as she pleases. This has meant that she has tried numerous experiences over the years including backpacking across Europe, mountain climbing in the Himalaya’s and living a commune lifestyle with a bunch of hippies in America.

  Her family, used to her hair-brained ‘life experiences’, usually just sit back and wait for her to burn her latest fad out. As long as she sends an email now and then, they stay cool. My guess is they didn’t even blink twice at her announcement she was flying out to Sudan and would return in two years. Nothing shocks them anymore.

  Not since the first shock that their Mensa minded child planned to deviate from the proposed course of following in her father’s footsteps to become a neurosurgeon. Her decision to study a Bachelor of Computing at University and then spend her days programming had only been an early sign of the many shocks that were yet to come. I guess one day she might even tell them she’s a hacker, not a bona fide programmer. There’s a fun day to plan for.