Harddrive Holidays

by MariaLisa deMora

  Sitting in the chair, he stared at the fire for a time and then reached over, picking up his current read. Tipping the recliner seat back, he propped it in his lap and looked through several pages of the hardcover book, laughing at the captions listed underneath the black and white pictures of motorcycles and men, grinning at the faces of the ones he knew. Chuckling at all the things the writer had gotten wrong, he idly flipped back through the pages and then let the book fall shut. Tucking the peusdo-documentary into the chair beside him, he thought about all the men he had met over the years, the ones who ran through his shop, in and out within moments of days, and then he thought about the ones who stayed in his life. Closing his eyes, he slowly relaxed again, not even knowing when he drifted back down into sleep.

  “Hey, honey. Look, Harddrive, that kid’s back.” Erin called him using his road name, and he walked to the front of the show floor, peering through the windows and across the highway. Sure enough, the wiry boy was standing and staring at the building, leaning against the same old, beat up pickup he usually drove. About once a month, the kid would come and park, standing and staring at their shop for a time before he would climb back into the truck and drive away.

  “Come on, kid,” he muttered. “Come on in. Give it up, boy. Why don’t you come on inside here, come talk to me. Come and tell me what you need, son.” After a moment, he hooted, yelling back at Erin, “Hot damn, baby, here he comes.” The kid was walking across the highway, head on a swivel trying to inventory the line of bikes parked in front of the building. This was the kind of thing he lived for, the privilege of turning someone on to the lifestyle and the scoots. He had a feeling about this kid. You didn’t come back again and again like he had been without having something calling to you. He loved sharing his passion for the bikes with people who gave a shit and from what he had seen, he suspected this kid would definitely give a shit.

  Nearly two hours later, Landon was about out of tricks, having gone through his entire inventory of new bikes and most of the used ones without seeing anything other than polite interest on the kid’s face. He had found out the kid was named Andy and was from a little town just north of Cheyenne where he lived with his grandparents some of the time. He had a nice egg saved up, expected to pay cash for whatever he bought, which meant this kid had been working for a while with this as a goal. Eying Erin’s silhouette in the big window, he grinned. He could appreciate a man with a goal.

  Harddrive walked them around to the back of the shop, where the rougher bikes were stored. These were the ones that had plenty of road miles on them before being traded in, and there wasn’t a new model in the bunch, but it was what he had left. He had virtually given up finding anything when he suddenly saw it. That interested spark he had been looking for. To test it, he deliberately passed over the bike the kid had his eyes fixed on, and saw the look of displeasure flash across Andy’s face when he realized what Harddrive had done.

  Circling back to the red and white Indian, he remembered with fondness the day that particular scoot had rolled onto the lot. Nearly exactly like the one in the framed picture of him and Rodney back when they were eleven and twelve, the bike had come in underneath one of the roughest looking dudes Landon had ever seen.

  This guy had looked like he spent half his life sitting on a motorcycle, and he handled the Indian like he breathed, totally by instinct…light and free, without having to match thoughts to deeds. But, in contrast to how he rode, the dude had carried a burden of worry that you could almost touch, it was that heavy. Mason, he had called himself, and then when they were filling out the paperwork Harddrive had found out it actually was the dude’s name. Davis Mason, an officer in the Rebel Fiends out of Chicago, had traded in the aged bike on a much newer, more popular brand. Motoring off at the end of the day with a shit-eating grin on his face, ass on a growling monster of chrome and steel, leaving behind the Indian for the next owner.

  Cheyenne wasn’t a biker town per se, but there were enough clubs around town that he knew what a decent club looked and sounded like. He had asked around, and the young man who traded in the Indian was a better than decent guy. He was just a guy who had gotten hooked up with assholes, and needed to get away from them in the worst way.

  Harddrive heard a few years later that Mason had been successful in extricating himself, and had started his own club. From all accounts, he did right by his members, which wouldn’t surprise anyone who knew him, since he had lived through the shit his previous president had pulled.

  These days, all the clubs in town knew of Mason and his Rebel Wayfarers, a club whose reach seemed to be growing every day. It was a pleasure to sell this bike, from that man to this kid, more especially when he felt the same vibes from Andy that he had Mason. Full circle, or as Erin would tell him, ‘Karma.’ He helped Andy load the bike into the back of that beater truck, strapping it down tight, talking through the process of unloading. When he handed over the jacket Andy had bought, he felt the pockets bulging and knew Erin had been at work, gifting the kid with goggles and gloves to round out his wardrobe.

  She walked up, wrapping her arm around his waist as they watched the truck pull out, headed north. “You done good, old man,” she said, digging her fingers into his ribs to make him squirm. She tipped her head back for a kiss and he obliged her, deepening the caress and wrapping his arms around her. “Wanna fuck?” she asked playfully when he pulled back and he grinned.

  Before swooping back in for another kiss, he threw his head back and shouted into the shop, “All you motherfuckers need to get the hell outta Dodge and my shop, because I got a needy old lady who wants to get her some good time lovin’.”

  There was good-natured laughter all around, and when he raised his head from hers again, they were alone in the shop. One of the men leaving had even turned the sign over to Closed. He lifted Erin in his arms and carried her up to the office overlooking the sales floor, her holding on tight, their gazes locked. Setting one knee on the couch, he laid her back on the cushions and watched avidly as she pulled her loose-fitting shirt over her head, exposing her bare tits. He leaned in, cupping one with a palm as he covered the other with his mouth, pulling at her nipple with his teeth. His name rolled from her lips as she raised up, offering herself to him. “Harddrive.”

  Waking with a start, he sat up in the chair, looking around. Standing abruptly, he walked up the short hallway to the bedroom, a shiver running over him as his sock feet hit the floor, which was much colder this far away from the fire. Opening the bedroom doors one by one, he glanced inside, the moon reflecting on the snow so brightly he didn’t need to turn on lights to know every room was empty. Damn, he thought, I could have sworn I heard Erin.

  Back in the great room, he looked at the clock on the mantle to realize it was nearly three in the morning. “Fuck,” he said, his shoulders dropping, “you ain’t gonna be worth anything at work tomorrow, dirtbag.” Then he snorted, muttering, “Oh, yeah. Christmas Day, fucking shop’s closed.”

  Settling back into his chair, he fussed with the book for a minute, then draped the afghan across his legs again, tucking it underneath his thighs against the inescapable chill invading the room. “Shoulda just gone to bed, the fucking mattress would be warm by now,” he grumbled to himself, half turning onto one hip and stretching his neck out. Eyes closed, he listened to the logs shifting as they burned, lulled back into sleep by the quiet noises in the house.

  “Beautiful mama,” he said, leaning in close for a kiss. “Love you, honey. Love you. Your mom is going to bring Barry to the hospital to see you and our pretty Dixie. You up for some kiddo chaos?”

  Erin lifted her head, meeting his mouth with a smack. “You know it, baby.” She grinned, exhaustion from the hours spent laboring to deliver their second child lining her face, but what shone clearest was her happiness. “I’m in little boy withdrawals, need me a fix.” Cupping one hand around the back of his neck, she pulled him down for another kiss. “Or I could get me a fix of my big boy.”


  “Shameless huzzy,” Harddrive groaned, kissing her hard and deep, cupping one breast through the shapeless drape the hospital offered patients. Tweaking her nipple, he pulled back when she laughed against his mouth. “What?”

  “I’m leaking.” She giggled and he looked down to see a growing patch of wetness around the nipple he had been fondling. “Go get our daughter, let’s see if she’ll latch on.”

  Walking back into her room with baby Dixie, he stood holding her until Erin had arranged herself, exposing one breast before she accepted the pink wrapped bundle into her arms. Settling their daughter against her chest, she smiled and leaned her head back on the pillow when the child began nursing.

  “Beautiful mama,” he whispered again, and then from his position on the bed beside her rested his cheek on her shoulder. He watched as she cupped the back of Dixie’s head, fingertips stroking through the cap of dark hair their girl had been born with. “Love you, Erin. Love of my life,” he said and she kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you,” she said softly and he pulled his gaze away from the sight of her cradling the life they created together, looking into her face. She lifted her other hand, cupping his cheek in the same way she held their daughter’s head. “First you, then a boy, now a girl. My family is complete, Landon. Love you so much, old man. My happy ending.”

  He woke with a sigh this time, the sweetness of that memory cut through with the pain that his wife wasn’t by his side anymore. “Fuck,” he muttered, “stupid old man.”

  Standing, he moved the screen and jiggled the logs in the fire, settling them more securely and creating a cradle for new wood. Reaching in with the fresh fuel, he set the logs into place, using the poker to ensure they were secure. Putting the screen back in front of the fire, he stretched as he stood, looking around the room with a scowl. Pictures of his family seemed to mock him, the timeline of their history marching across the walls.

  There was one of their wedding day, her draped across his lap on the bike in her short white dress, arms thrown around his neck as he kissed her. The picture froze them in place, his hand modestly on her waist. But, he could remember the shouts and catcalls of the men gathered around them as his hand raised from that position to cup her breast, her giggling into his mouth the whole time as she bent her knee and hooked her calf around his back, holding onto him as he held onto her.

  Taking her back to the apartment over the shop, loving her sweet and slow, fucking her with both his eyes open, so he wouldn’t miss a moment of her. Moving her into that same apartment, where she quickly turned the single room efficiency into a cozy home, filled with the personality of the woman he loved.

  He looked at the picture for the grand reopening of the shop under the new name, Harddrive’s Bikes and Gear. It was one of his favorites. Even though he had argued against the expense of hiring a photographer at the time, now he was glad for Erin’s foresight. He loved it because the picture showed them standing, arms around each other, looking up at the signage with nearly identical grins. Right after that picture he had picked her up and swung them in a circle, her squealing the whole time about her skirt.

  It wasn’t until later he found out that her concern wasn’t for folks seeing her panties, but because she hadn’t been wearing any. That night, in their much larger apartment over the store, he had threatened to take her panties off with his teeth. That statement had been greeted by peals of laughter as she stood on top of the mattress in front of him. Playfully inching the full skirt up her thighs, she teasingly flashed her bare pussy at him with a grin before jumping off the bed on the other side, initiating what turned out to be an extremely short game of keep away.

  That had been the night he planted their son in her womb, his body raised over hers on arms that trembled with fatigue and strain. He loved watching her when she found that place while he was deep inside her, so he stayed up and over her until she did. Leaning down to nip at her breast, feeling her fingers thread through his hair, guiding him to the other nipple where he licked and twirled around it with his tongue. So fucking good together, she wrapped him up with her arms and legs, fucking him back as she climaxed hard. “My woman,” he had grunted, thrusting deep and holding as he came, groaning, his cock jerking inside her.

  Reaching down, he adjusted his hardening cock, because thinking of fucking or making love to Erin always had that effect on him. He hadn’t been with a woman since she left because no one else held a candle to her in his eyes. He knew from their mutual friends that she hadn’t moved on either, and at least once a day he thought about calling her but never had the courage. The fear of what she would say weighed heavily on him because when things went sideways for them, they did so in a painful way.

  Climbing back into his chair, he pulled one heel up onto the cushion, resting his wrist on top of his bent knee. Mindlessly snapping his fingers as he watched the flames, he sighed. Glancing back up at the pictures, he could trace the growth of their children, Barry and Dixie; looking at kindergarten class shots next to photos of the kids on their dirt bikes, arranged beside holiday and family dinner pictures, winding up with graduation. Their breakup hadn’t come until after all of that, and because the pictures were her thing, they abruptly stopped right before Barry got married and Dixie moved away.

  Stretching out his leg, he leaned back in the chair, flipping the blanket over his legs once again. Damn woman, he thought.

  “You sure this is what you want, darlin’?” Staring at his daughter, he waited for her answer. That damn quick smile flashed on her face, full lips a legacy of her mother as Dixie nodded. He frowned, shaking his head. “Damn far away, baby girl. He won’t stay around here instead?”

  “Daddy,” she scolded, reaching out to lift his hand and thread her fingers between his. “You know Keith’s work is based out of Indiana. He was just up here for a job.” She shrugged, squeezing his hand. “I love him. He’s got to go back home, and I want to go with him.”

  “What did your mama say, Dix?” He tried to ignore the hurt that came with that question because it was another hit to his heart, acknowledging Erin wasn’t living with him anymore.

  “She told me to follow my heart,” Dixie said softly, eyes on his face, concern evident on her features. “I wish I weren't going before you and Mom patched things up.”

  He pulled his hand back, making an abrupt movement. Turning his head, he looked out the window and could feel the scowl that settled on his face, brows pulling together painfully. “Don’t let our troubles stop you from finding your happy, darlin’.” He sighed, and then turned to look at his daughter, forcing a smile on his face. “We’ll either settle our shit or we won’t. You gotta live your life, and your mama’s right, you gotta follow what feels right. If Keith feels right, if this is the path you’re settled on, then you have my blessing. Love you, baby girl, so much.”

  “You never told me what happened—“ she stopped when he made a noise. They stared at each other for a minute, and then she shook her head. “Alright, Daddy, but you know I love you, too.” She stood and moved toward him, crawling onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around her, something he knew she had seen her mother do all her life.

  “Baby girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the side of her head, the pain from missing Erin compounded by the knowledge his daughter was leaving.

  He lay there staring at a ceiling he could barely make out in the light reflected through the windows, having rolled onto his back during this sleep cycle. That memory was from nearly twenty years ago, and to this day he had never told either of their kids what happened. Stupid argument over nothing, escalating to a disaster of his own making because he was too fucking hardheaded to explain or apologize. “And not a day goes by that you don’t fucking regret it, old man.” His mutter was loud in the silence that draped through the house. “Fucking ghosts of the past, coming to visit on the eve of the holiday that started it all.”

  Shifting he looked at the fire, decided it was good enough for now and turne
d to his other hip, letting himself roll back down the hill into sleep.

  “What was the one thing I’ve always told you I could never forgive?” The question whipped his head around and he stood looking at his wife, his hand on the arm of a woman attempting to straighten her clothing as she leaned one shoulder against the wall. Erin advanced toward him, placing one slow and careful foot in front of the other. “The only thing I asked you for, and you can’t manage that one thing.”

  “Erin, baby—“ he started but stopped when she shook her head, hair flying around her face, the ends nearly snapping with the violence of her movement.

  “I’ve looked the other way when the boys around the shop danced with other partners, keeping my mouth shut so the only way their spouses and old ladies would find out was on their own. But, I told you, Landon. I said it and I meant it. If you stepped out on me, if you dipped your wick into a different well, then we would be done.” She swept her hand towards the woman who stood there silently, eyes wide, head swiveling between the two people in the hallway with her. “This is our son’s wedding, Landon. Quite the statement you’ve made.”

  Erin had always been stubborn, and she was mad enough that anything he said now would only make things worse, so he stood there, mouth closed, biting back the words he wanted to spit at her because it wasn’t what it looked like. But, he could tell from the look on her face she wouldn’t hear him, even if he said the words. And, even if she did hear him, she wouldn’t believe him because he had laughed about the boys fucking around, joined in the randy joking about their escapades outside of their marital vows.

  She turned on her heel and stalked back up the hallway, pausing at the end for a moment and turning to look at him. “I’ll keep my mouth shut for Barry’s sake because this is his day. But, I’ll be sleeping elsewhere tonight, and tomorrow I’ll come get my clothes. You keep everything, old man. I don’t want anything to remind me of your cheating ass.” She turned the corner and was gone, silence flooding in to fill the space behind her departure.