I liked the attitude that she had grown comfortable throwing my way. It seemed she’d gained confidence in who she was, and it was as attractive as her smoking hot body, if not more.
I took one last look and then turned toward the door. “See you in the morning, Smudge.”
“See you tomorrow, you sexy M-Fer,” she said under her breath.
As I walked away, my mouth curled into a smile. It was the first time I’d heard her say anything close to a cuss word, and I liked that she was coming out of her shell. Who I thought she was and who she was becoming were two totally different people.
And the latter was going to be impossible for me to make a celibate 3,000-mile trip with.
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Nine
Joey
I’m sure many would have found the heat unbearable, the noise intolerable, or the wind simply too brutal.
I, on the other hand, viewed everything about riding as rewarding. Traveling in a car was quiet and simple. A sense of taking part in the journey came with riding on the back of the motorcycle.
It was as if I was earning each mile I traveled.
I leaned against the backrest with my hands folded in my lap. As much as I wanted to hold onto Percy’s waist, I’d realized I didn’t need to. At least not on the highway. Our steady speed made any movement of the motorcycle quite predictable, leaving me comfortable in my relaxed state.
He tapped my leg with his left hand. “We’ll be stopping in Mesa. About five minutes.”
“Okay.”
I found the thought of stopping unsettling, but knew we wouldn’t be stationary long. Mesa, Arizona was one-fourth of the way to Kansas. We’d traveled 350 miles, yet in many respects, I felt like we’d only begun.
He pulled up alongside the gas pumps and shut off the engine.
“Stretch your legs,” he said. “Next stop will be Holbrook.”
“I’ll just sit here.”
He pushed the kickstand down and stepped off the bike. “You should probably take a piss.”
“I’m good.”
I gazed across the highway. The desolate land was nothing but uninhabited desert. An occasional cactus and a sea of sand were all that was offered for scenery. In the distance, a few hills gave some shape to the horizon.
From my vantage point it was beautiful.
“You sure you don’t need to piss?” he asked.
“I’m sure.”
He filled the tank with gas, went inside, and then returned holding a bottle of water. “Sure you don’t need anything?”
I grinned at the sight of a tumbleweed rolling alongside the highway, then turned to face him. “The wind on my face. That’s all.”
My response made him smile. He reached in his back pocket, and then handed me something.
“What’s this?”
“Jerky.”
I turned the package over and studied the contents. “Looks like a random piece of meat.”
“That’s what it is.” He chuckled. “You’ve never had jerky?”
“I’ve heard of it. I’ve never had it, though.”
“It’s part of traveling,” he said. “A biker staple.”
I wondered if my father ate it when he rode.
I questioned whether he’d ever been on the stretch of highway we were on, and, if so, if he’d ever stopped for gas where we’d stopped.
“Do all bikers eat it?”
“Every damned one of them,” he said with a laugh.
I peeled the package open and took a bite of the salty meat. After I swallowed it, he handed me the bottle of water.
We sat in Arizona’s summer heat and ate our beef jerky. It seemed I was being drawn to him even more, and I couldn’t quite understand why. I was attracted to him, not doubt. But what I was feeling wasn’t sexual. It was as if we were the closest of friends.
Different friends than what we’d been in the past.
He tossed the wrappers in the trash when we were finished. When he turned around, his mouth curled into a slight grin. “Ready?”
I gave a nod. “Yep.”
Halfway to Holbrook, I realized what it was about riding that I enjoyed the most.
It was being an integral a part of everything around me. The motorcycle. The road. The horizon. The sky. The weather. Even the bugs that gave their lives to become a semi-permanent part of my wardrobe.
I wasn’t hiding inside the confines of a car. I wasn’t hiding, period.
I tilted my head back and looked up at the sky. The dark marshmallow-like clouds looked like they could spit out rain at any minute.
I glanced down at the road.
The asphalt rushed past us, mere inches from my feet.
I glanced up and focused on the mountains along the horizon. A raindrop hit me, stinging my face much more than I would have expected.
Then, another.
Within a few seconds, it began to pour.
He slowed down, and then signaled that he was going to pull over.
I leaned forward. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll grab you some rain gear out of the saddlebags.”
Raingear would have changed everything. As far as I was concerned, it would have ruined the experience.
“Keep going,” I shouted.
“You sure?”
“Positive,” I responded. “I bet my dad didn’t even own rain gear.”
“I bet you’re right,” he said.
He cancelled the turn signal, checked over his left shoulder, and twisted back the throttle.
The raindrops hit me, one after the other, until I was soaked. When that moment came, I stretched my arms out to the side and closed my eyes.
I was no longer a parentless child.
Nor was I a burn victim.
Or the girl who was being abused.
I was simply Joey.
And, I was free.
Chapter One Hundred Eighty
P-Nut
I sat in a wooden chair in the corner, slightly weathered from the 13-hour trip, half of which was in a torrential downpour.
She came out of the bathroom wearing a tee shirt and shorts. The occasional streaks of blonde that were woven through her brown hair gave hint that she’d spent time at the beach, but her pale skin told another story.
I’d always believed her to be attractive. Attractive, but off limits. After learning she wasn’t lesbian, the age difference between us was the only hurdle that remained.
With each passing day, it seemed the bar was being lowered. At the rate things were going, by the end of our trip, I’d be able to step over it without effort. The thought of it excited me.
And scared me to death.
“Sorry they only had a single room,” I said.
She flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Okay with me.”
“I just don’t want you to think--”
She turned her head to the side. “Stop it. I don’t think anything.”
“I was just saying--”
“Stop it. We’re both adults. Act like one.”
“You smart mouth little--”
“Little what?” She sat up. “Bitch?”
I started to respond, but she interrupted my thoughts.
“When you call me a sexy bitch? I like that. If you’re just going to call me a bitch, prepare to fight. I’m not going to let another man run over me. Not now. Not ever.”
Damn.
I raised my hands in a mocked surrender. “I wasn’t.”
“You weren’t what?”
“I wasn’t going to call you a bitch.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
I chuckled. “I’ve already been educated on the matter. If I use the word, it’ll only be affectionately. I was going to call you a smart mouth little shit.”
Her eyes fell to the bed. In an instant, she looked up. “I like that.”
“I’ll forewarn you,” I said. “I do dumb shit sometimes. But. I’m not a dumb person.”
/> “I’ve never thought that about you.”
“Okay.”
She flopped onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling. “I do dumb stuff, too.”
“It’s human nature.”
“I guess so.”
“Pretty impressive today,” I said.
She looked at me. “What was?”
“You were.”
Her brow wrinkled, and she sat up. “How’s that? I just sat there.”
The difference between barhopping and taking a trip on the open road is immeasurable. Many men think they want to be part of an MC, then quickly decide after they make the first road trip that they weren’t cut out to be a real biker.
Being a biker wasn’t for everyone, and it damned sure wasn’t easy. The ability to last on the open road for an entire day – through all kinds of weather – is what separated the men from the boys.
Smudge made a 13-hour trip that covered 850 miles without a single complaint. In my book, she was Ol’ Lady material for that reason alone.
I stood, and then turned to face her. “That’s my point.”
“I impressed you by sitting on the back of the bike?”
“Yep.”
“I would have guessed you for being a little tougher to impress,” she said. “I’m disappointed.”
“I’m not easily impressed, I can assure you of that. I don’t pay compliments where they’re not due, either. Most women would have thrown in the towel after an hour or two. Hell, a couple of times, you didn’t even get off to piss. Pretty impressive in my book.”
“Thank you.”
I gave a nod. “I’m going to shower.”
“Maybe most women like the thought of riding. Or, the thought of being a biker’s Ol’ Lady. I love being on the back of your bike. It’s hard to explain. It just…” She gazed aimlessly around the room, and then she looked at me. “It’s difficult to explain. Being there is like. It’s soul cleansing.”
She hit the nail on the head. It was soul cleansing.
I looked her over. If I simply set the age difference between us aside, she was perfect. I decided when the time was right that I was going to develop the courage to ask her on a proper date.
“My soul’s cleaner than a motherfucker, but my body’s covered with bugs and dirt. I’m going to take a shower.”
She patted the bed with her hand. “You know where I’ll be.”
I went to the bathroom, closed the door, and got undressed. After I shaved, I stood in front of the mirror, gazing blankly at my reflection.
The club described me as a lone wolf.
A recluse.
They were right. But, being a loner had its benefits.
Leaving on a whim.
Having no one or nothing to hold me back.
It also left me feeling empty at times.
Waiting had never been one of my strengths. It was time for me to tell Smudge how I felt, and see if she’d consider taking our friendship one step further. I wiped off my face and opened the bathroom door.
“So, I was thinking…”
Flat on her back with her hands behind her head, she gazed up at the ceiling.
I took a step toward her, and then paused. “You and I have a lot in common. We both like tinkering with bikes. We enjoy the freedom of being on the road. Hell, we could take road trips on the weekends and have one hell of a lot of fun. So, anyway. There’s this age thing between us. But. The more I think about it, nine years isn’t that much. Not really.”
I inhaled a lung full of courage and stepped to the end of the bed.
My heart sank at the sound of her light snoring. After admiring her for a moment, my mouth curled into a smile.
She was a beautiful woman.
And, there was always tomorrow.
Chapter One Hundred Eighty-One
Joey
After we packed everything into the saddlebags and secured them, Percy pointed across the street. “Diner over there. Let’s eat, and then we can hit the road.”
The sun was peeking over the tips of the mountains in the distance. I shifted my eyes from the sunrise to him. “Sounds good.”
“You okay?”
I drew a deep breath of the cool air, and gave a nod. “Just enjoying the scenery.”
“Makes two of us.”
He hadn’t so much as glanced eastward, and what was behind me was nothing more than a parking lot filled with pickup trucks and an occasional car. My scenery was awesome. His scenery sucked.
He grinned. “You ready?”
“Yep.”
“If we eat and hit the road, should be there by late afternoon. It’s less than 600 miles.”
I looked forward to our time on the road, but the thought of meeting my cousin made me nervous.
“Sounds good.”
We rode across the street and parked the bike where we could see it through the windows.
Percy opened the door. “After you.”
I stepped inside and looked around. The diner was a step back in time, for sure. Two elderly women wearing aprons appeared to be the only waitresses. One, coffee pot in hand, turned toward us.
“Any seat you like,” she said. “Want coffee?”
“Two, please,” he responded.
We chose a booth opposite where the bike was parked and sat down. A small chrome box at the end of the booth with a series of buttons on the bottom was mounted at the end of the booth, by the window.
The letters A through K and the numbers 1 through 10 were on the face of the buttons.
I leaned toward the box. “What is this?”
“Juke box,” he said.
“It plays music?”
“It’s old school as fuck. If it still works, that’s what it does.”
I flipped through the pages of songs. After glancing at three pages, one caught my complete attention.
“Bob Seger,” I gasped. “Roll Me Away.”
“Good tune,” he said.
My eyes shot to him. “It was one of my mom’s favorites.”
The waitress pointed toward the condiment rack and then sat two cups of coffee down. “Menus are right there.”
“Does this work?” I asked.
“Sure does. Two for a quarter. No cheaper music in the entire valley.”
Percy tossed two quarters onto the table. “Pick your four favorites.”
“I’ll be right back to take your order,” the waitress said.
“I know what I want,” Percy said.
“Me too.”
The waitress looked at me and cocked her eyebrow playfully.
“Three eggs over medium, hash browns, bacon, and wheat toast.”
She grinned and looked at Percy.
“Same.”
She scribbled on her pad. “Easy enough.”
As she walked away, Percy looked at me. “Always eat your eggs over medium?”
“I’ll eat them scrambled if I cook them, but not in a restaurant. They never make them right.”
He chuckled.
“What?’
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
I reached for the quarters, and then looked the music choices over. After two passes through the entire selection, I chose four songs.
As Bob Seger’s Roll Me Away began, I closed my eyes. Percy must have enjoyed the song as much as me, because he didn’t speak the entire time.
When the song ended, I opened my eyes.
“What other three did you pick?”
“The Weight by The Band, Janis Joplin’s Me and Bobby McGee, and I Wish It Would Rain, by the Temptations.”
“Damn. Where’d you get your taste in music?”
“You don’t like them?”
“Shit,” he said with a light laugh. “Sounds like what I would have picked.”
“My dad was ten years older than my mom,” I explained. “He was born in 1965, so he’d be 52 now. Mom always said he influenced her musical taste. I grew up listening to these songs. It’s better than the crap they make t
oday.”
The Weight, by The Band started to play.
From the opening word, I began to sing along quietly. After a few seconds, Percy joined in. We both grinned, singing word for word as we gazed at each other.
The waitress slid the plates in front of us. It didn’t stop us from singing.
Percy gave her a nod.
“Cutest couple I’ve seen in a long time.” She smiled. “Enjoy.”
When the song ended, we reached for our plates. As the other two played, we ate our breakfast.
“You’re an old soul.” He pushed his plate to the side and reached for his coffee. “I like that about you.”
I folded my toast in two and poked it in my mouth. “I pretty much like everything about you. So far, anyway.”
He shook his head. “Got a question for you.”
I took a drink of coffee. “Okay.”
“When we get back from this trip, would you consider going out?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. I wrinkled my nose and stared back at him. “What do you mean?”
“Go out,” he said.
“Huh?”
“You’re making this tougher than it ought to be.” He let out a sigh. “I want to take you on a date. I’m asking you if you’d consider going out with me. On a date.”
Holy cow.
My throat went dry.
I had no idea what a woman felt when a man asked her to marry him. At least not until that moment. My guess was that what I felt was identical. It had to be.
I picked my jaw up from the floor and calmly took a sip of my tepid coffee. “A date? Like, you and me going out on a date? A real date?”
He nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”
All my years of desire had somehow come to fruition. I was shaking from the excitement of it all, but clenched the coffee cup tightly in my hands to mask it.
I met his wondrous gaze, offered him a smile, and gave the only answer I could.
“I’d love to.”
Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Two
P-Nut
Axton Bishop looked like an old-school biker from yesteryear. His face was deeply tanned from years of riding, his brown hair was littered with gray, and his hands were covered in more scars than most other bikers I knew.
Filthy F*ckers: The Complete Series Box Set Page 88