by AJ Downey
I was deliciously sore and it felt incredible. What did not feel incredible, was waking up alone, but his jacket still lay in the chair where he’d abandoned it the night before. It was cold outside, so I didn’t think he’d gone far without it. I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. There was no sign of him in there either.
I took care of business and dragged on my clothes, finishing just as the room’s phone started to ring. I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is the front desk, it’s time to check out.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Nine o’clock, Ma’am.”
“Thanks,” I grunted into the phone and dropped the receiver back onto the base.
“A little fuckin’ early for checkout isn’t it?” I asked the empty air. Usually it was like eleven or something. I shrugged into my riding gear and picked up Kyle’s jacket, frowning at the uneven distribution of weight. I lifted his wallet out of his inside pocket and felt a chill go down my spine. Hadn’t his wallet been in his back pocket last night? I mean, that’s where he’d gotten the condom from. I opened it up.
“I’ll be damned,” I uttered. He lived in town here, like only a couple of blocks away, if I remembered some of the streets we’d passed last night coming up the main drag. I pulled on my riding gear and plugged his address from his license into my phone; an uncomfortable sick feeling starting in the pit of my stomach.
I checked out, and fired up Betsy, tying my hair up under my bandana, affixing another over my face to stave off the chill. I put on my sunglasses and strapped my helmet under my chin, before heeling up the kickstand and backing her out of the space. I had Kyle’s jacket in the saddle bag with my first aid kit, and the fucking GPS was already being a demanding cunt in my ears, curtesy of my headphones.
Her directions were interrupted shortly after I pulled back onto the highway by an incoming call. I pressed the button on the headphones and shouted, “Yeah?” into the phone.
“Dreamer, where you at?”
“Beauty, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said to my club sister.
“You failed to check in last night and Rage is pissed,”
“What else is new? I mean, duh.”
“Good point, so answer the fucking question, where you at?”
“Podunk little mountain town, lucky I have signal. Picked up a guy last night and hit a hotel. That’s the extremely short version, I promise to fill you all in later, but I need to get the fuck off the phone, you’re fucking with my directions and I don’t want to get anymore lost than I already am.”
“Right; well be careful, you miss check-in tonight, Rage is going to make us ride up there after your ass and it is too fucking cold for that shit.”
“Pussy!”
“Just because I have one, doesn’t mean I am one,” Beauty sang out and I laughed.
“Later, Girl,” I said.
“Bye.”
She hung up and immediately the GPS started bitching at me to turn around, that I’d missed the turn. I sighed, frustrated and did what the bitch said.
A few minutes later, I was travelling in an upward trajectory, into some nice neighborhoods. The houses were made out of stone and glass and fuckin’ way classier than anything I’d ever lived in. It didn’t surprise me though; Kyle had said he was in real estate.
I pulled up in front of one of the nicest places on the block when the fucking GPS started insisting I had arrived, repeatedly, and to the point I wish she were real and I could scream at her to shut up. I didn’t take it as a good sign that a Sheriff department SUV and a Search and Rescue Range Rover were parked in the driveway. I felt my eyebrows draw down and I got off the bike, opening up the saddle bag to pull out Kyle’s jacket and wallet.
I felt a fission of fear, my chest tightening with anxiety when I looked down at my first aid kit. The jacket was gone. It’d been right there but now it was gone as if I’d never put it there.
“What the fuck?” I muttered to myself.
“Help you?” A deputy called out, making his way across the brown lawn in my direction.
“Uh, no. Just think I made a wrong turn is all,” I called back.
“Uh huh, well, where you headed?” he asked.
“Stayed at the Roadside Inn last night, and was trying to make my way back to the main highway, I figured I was going the wrong direction when I was heading up, not down, but I figured there might be a gas station up this way. Was just digging out my map.”
“I see. I was hoping you might have some information about Kyle.”
“Kyle?” I asked, and was surprised that the deputy didn’t catch my hollow tone.
“Yeah, Kyle Montag. He’s been missing three days now, went out for a ride and hasn’t come back. His sister called us in, we been lookin’ but we have nothin’.”
“No, sorry, never heard of him.” I lied.
What in the absolute fuck?
“Well, y’see anything, you let us know. Lots of folks worried about him. His sister’s a wreck.”
I nodded, “I’ll do that.” I vowed and looked back down the way I came.
A sense of urgency was building in me and it wouldn’t be ignored. I followed my gut and got back on my bike. I could make up time later, my family pretty much sucked anyways and I hadn’t been thrilled about making the trip to see them in the first place. There was something I wanted to, no, needed to check out. I rode back down into town and hit the highway going south, back toward Denver. I watched the side of the highway running north for any signs and nearly cried out when I saw it.
In the forest litter, mud, and debris where the blacktop gave out, were some deep skid marks, just past where the guard rail ended. I rode further up where there wasn’t a blind curve and I could safely turn around. My heart was pounding in my chest, the blood rushing in my ears so hard it was drowning out the music from my headphones and the sound my baby made beneath me.
Please don’t be true, please don’t be true; please don’t be true…
The mantra played out in my head, over and over, as I raced back to the location and pulled off to the side. I braked, sliding a little in the mud myself before correcting and steering my bike back onto the side of the highway. I heeled down the kickstand and leaned her over, springing off her back as soon as it was safe to do so before scrambling to the edge, where the tire tracks skidded off the side and into a ravine.
I caught a glimpse of chrome in the underbrush and with a pained cry, I plunged over the side. I waded through branches, snapping them and throwing others out of my way and collapsed to my knees beside him; tears pouring down my face, soaking my bandana which suddenly felt like it was smothering me.
I ripped it down and stared into Kyle’s indigo eyes which were fixed and staring back at me, devoid of anything. His light was gone, he was gone… I rocked, arms wrapped around myself hugging myself, as if I could somehow hold myself together. His skin was stiff and waxy, mouth half open as if he’d gasped for breath, blood coating the side of his face from the same cut that’d bled freely over his eye the night before.
“Oh, god, no!” I cried and bowed my head.
He wasn’t real, the man who’d been in my bed, the man who’d I’d shared my body with the night before… except I knew better, I knew it right down to the marrow in my bones that everything that’d happened last night had been one hundred percent real… likely just as real as the man I’d been intimate with’s body had given up, lying alone down here while he’d been with me. I mean, you heard the stories all the time right?
I sobbed and scrambled in my pocket for my phone, and found that I had signal. Kyle was pinned beneath his bike, and likely couldn’t have reached his. I sobbed at the 9-1-1 operator, and sat with him as long as I could, sirens wailing down the mountainside, coming to help… except there was no help for him, or for us, or for me…
The most profound, loving and wonderful experience of my life, and it was over. Done. Before anything co
uld ever even have a chance to be.
Damn. The. Luck.
“Dreamer, you done lost your fuckin’ mind, Girl.” Rage, our SAA swept her waist length ebony braids over her shoulder. They slapped the back of her cut fiercely, the sound loud in the echoing silence of the club’s bar. It was after three in the morning and we were shut down, all of us gathered around one of the round tables, empty shot glasses littering the surface, a nearly dead soldier of whiskey towering above them.
Speechless. I’d rendered all of my sisters speechless, all except for Rage. She was a black chick originally from Chicago and a bigger girl. All tits and ass and solid muscle. She was the club’s bouncer as well as the bar’s and wasn’t to be fucked with. She was a down and dirty streetfighter and used her anger like a shield.
She looked at me; makeup, hair, and nails done to the nines as always, her big bold lips crimson edged in black, bottom lip stuck out in the way that screamed she wanted to punch something. Diamond, our treasurer leaned back in her seat, crossing her ankle on her knee, foot jiggling, bouncing up and down.
“Honey, it’s okay if you’re embarrassed. I mean, we’ve all been there. Woken up to some hottie sneaking out on the walk of shame back to their girlfriend or wife… I don’t think a single one of us hasn’t been duped –”
“That isn’t what happened!” I barked. I knew what happened, I was there, I saw those beautiful indigo eyes cloudy in death, felt his cool skin beneath my fingertips… I closed my eyes and looked away from all of them, looking at me with a mix of fear and confusion.
Silence ringing loud, I found my backbone and opened my eyes looking from one to the next, to the next… Our President, Desire, our VP, Envy – the only one of us to embrace the name of her sin without prettying it up, Diamond, Rage, Beauty, and finally, our secretary, Cupcake.
Out of all of them, Desire seemed to be the only one to seriously be considering what I was saying while Cupcake, she just looked as sad and as lost as I felt. She reached out a hand and took mine in hers and gave it a squeeze. I guess one out of seven on the believability scale wasn’t bad. I sighed.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, telling you all, I kind of figured it would go this way.”
Beauty leaned back in her seat like she’d been slapped, “Dreamer, don’t be that way…” she said in that low soothing tone that I always heard her use on drunk assholes to talk them out of the bar before Rage could get a hold of them.
“No, it was stupid,” I said getting up, chair scraping against the worn hardwood floor of the old building.
“Dreamer, you just told us you had sex with a ghost. What do you expect us to do with that, Girl? It’s a level of crazy we’ve never seen out of you.” Rage crossed her arms under her ample breasts and scowled at me.
“Rage,” Desire’s tone held an edge of warning, but it was too late, I was already gone, striding for the door.
“Cupcake, go with her,” I heard Envy order, but I was already tramping into the cold. Hurt beyond measure that I was seriously out in the cold and as alone as I could be in every direction.
Fuck my life.
“Mary Anne Richards?”
I stood up, and went through the door, meeting the waiting smile of the nurse.
“Can we get your weight?” she asked and I nodded.
I felt like shit. Depression taking over after I’d found Kyle’s body. The depression had worn on through the holidays and had finally manifested as being dog ass tired all the fucking time. I swallowed hard and stepped off the scale, following the nurse listlessly into the exam room.
Temperature, blood pressure, pee in a cup, blood draw, I did it all. It’d been two months, and I was bringing the New Year in with puking my ever-loving guts out. The mere thought of food, absolutely nauseating. Something had to give, but I couldn’t help but feel how I felt. The greatest love of my life, the deepest connection I’d ever had with another person and he hadn’t even been alive.
I’d told my club sisters and they loved me, they worried about me, but they also thought I was effing crazy…
“Mary Anne?”
I looked up, “Yeah, Doc, sorry. Didn’t hear you come in.”
“Well, I’m happy to say we have a definitive answer to your troubles.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“Because, Honey, you’re pregnant.”
I stared up at her in disbelief, “That’s not possible,” I stammered.
The doctor frowned, “I’m afraid the urinalysis doesn’t lie…” her voice faded into a buzz and I stared out the slits in the venetian blinds outside the window. My hands pressed unbidden to my lower abdomen.
Pregnant?
I swallowed hard, and felt the tears leak out of the corners of my eyes. A weight, a burden I had carried since finding Kyle’s body at the bottom of that ravine, lifted from my shoulders. I swallowed hard and thought hard about the implications.
Okay, so some kind of miracle happened that night. Something I will never in a million years be able to explain… I smoothed my hands over my stomach and bent double, the torrent of tears crashing through the gates that I used to try and hold them back.
“I’m pregnant!” I cried and started laughing.
I had him, even if I would never have him again, I would always have a piece of him, in my heart, a reminder to look at every day… because it had to be Kyle’s. It had to. I hadn’t had sex with anyone for something like three months before that night, and I’d had regular periods. Hell, I hadn’t even noticed that I’d missed the last two.
I needed to know, I needed to make sure, I looked up at my doctor, “How far along?”
“If I had to estimate, I would say around two months,” she said gently the concern clear on her face. I leapt up and hugged her tightly.
“Thank you,” I breathed, thanking her as much as Kyle, and as much as God Himself.
“Thank you.”
A.J. Downey is a born and raised Seattle, WA native, and the author of the bestselling Sacred Hearts Motorcycle Club series. She finds inspiration from her surroundings, through the people she meets and likely as a byproduct of way too much caffeine. She has lived many places and done many things, though mostly through her own imagination. An avid reader all of her life, it’s now her turn to try and give back, entertaining as she has been entertained.
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Yes or No
Emma Lee
With a grunt, I tightened the last bolt as far as it could go. I tossed my wrench into my battered red toolbox and stood back to admire the finished product. Bare steel and black leather made up the first motorcycle I’d ever built from parts. The thing desperately needed a paint job, but I’d leave that to my dad.
“It looks great, Angelfish.” Speaking of the old man, he stumped outside with a lopsided grin. The rubber end of his steel cane thumped on the concrete. “Is she ready for a test drive?”
“Yep. Gas tank is even full.” I held up the key for him.
His grin softened into a genuine smile as he put a big, grease-stained hand on my shoulder. “I think you ought to take her out. It’s your day off, and she’s yours and all.”
“Huh?” I blinked and furrowed my brow. “I built it for you.”
“I know. And that was a sweet thing for you to do, but I don’t need one near as bad as you do. No daughter of mine is going to reach twenty-one without having her own bike.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Dad squeezed my shoulder. “I stopped riding after my accident on purpose. That truck hit me because I wasn’t quick enough reacting, end of statement. I’m not dumb enough to risk it again, especially not with my little girl’s only dad on the line.”
“Oh.” We’d never talked about th
e accident that trashed his bike and destroyed his hip and knee. He preferred to avoid the subject and I chose not to push. “Do you want to ride with me? There’s enough space.”
He smiled. “No. Go ahead. Don’t forget your tools in case something goes wrong.”
I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Behave yourself while I’m out.” His laughter chased me into the garage to grab my helmet, jacket, and tool kit. Every ride before this had been on a pillion or a borrowed bike. When I ran back out, Dad held out his phone and snapped off a dozen pictures while I shrugged into my worn leather jacket, pulled my brain bucket on, and straddled the bike.
Since I’d built it for my Dad, I whipped out a wrench and adjusted the handlebars until I felt comfortable. He kept taking pictures as I started the engine and listened to it rumble. The perfect sound made me grin and I flashed Dad a thumbs-up, then gunned the engine and rode down the street.
As much as I wanted to get on the freeway and ride for hours, I needed to stick kind of close to civilization in case something fell off or crapped out. The chopper thundered down the city streets, turning heads. My engine noise bounced back and forth between the buildings, so I got out of the area as quick as I could and hit some back roads. When I had a chance, I needed to bulk up the baffle.
Half an hour later, I swerved down an empty, twisty road flanked by tall trees, reveling in the freedom. The curves kept me on my toes and revealed a cranky ball bearing in the steering column. I made notes in my head about everything that needed to be tweaked or fixed. At the point when I considered turning around to go take care of it all, I noticed a shiny blue car on the side of the road with its hazard lights on.
Figuring I could keep going if they seemed dodgy, I approached. A tall man in an honest-to-God shirt and tie with navy slacks leaned against the rear bumper, tapping on his phone. He looked up and I might have drooled without my helmet in the way to prevent it. The guy had short brown hair and a strong chin, with plenty of muscle packed under his suit. Combo had a body like that, but Combo was my big brother. This guy waved at me, his arm up high enough to say he knew he needed help.