The Biker
Tabitha Levin © Copyright 2014
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imaginations or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.
Table of Contents
The Biker
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Also by Tabitha Levin
Website:
http://tabithalevin.com
Chapter 1
I was going to be late again today, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I was going to get fired any time soon. That was one of the perks of being the daughter of a billionaire. You could be late and walk into your office without an excuse and no one would bat an eyelid. Not that I would call being the daughter of Mitchell Westwood, a perk.
I glanced down at my watch. The commuter crowd arriving into the city for the start of their workday would be along this street any minute. The place I’d chosen was halfway between the subway and the main office buildings.
Closing my eyes, I felt the smooth wood of the guitar body under my fingers and I tapped a small melody on it’s front before opening my eyes again. Taking off the straw Fedora hat I was wearing, I placed it on the ground in front of me and sat down cross-legged with the stone fence of a small park behind me. A sign up ahead said no busking, but I’d be gone before anyone could stop my performance. Not that anyone would, everyone was too busy to get where they needed to be to worry about me.
The first notes that sang from my guitar were pitchy so I tightened the opaque strings and strummed my fingernails across them again. This time the sound was much better.
Morning crowds like to hear familiar music, a mixture of radio and classic hits, so I rarely sang my own songs. Instead I’d mash together a list of music that didn’t seem to go together but once they mixed felt like they belonged. Today’s performance would last a grand total of fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of bliss as the lyrics and melodies sparked the light in my soul. I wish it could be longer, but today, it’s all I had.
As the people swarmed toward me, I started singing. They began to slow and look in my direction to see what distraction had jolted them from their thoughts. A few stopped and the first coin dropped into my hat, followed after by a note - a crisp fiver. I nodded my head with thanks with each offering, but didn’t stop playing or singing.
Halfway through the song a small crowd had formed. Most of them were in business attire; suits, ties, jackets, sensible skirts. The only beacon of color in the crowd was a small child clinging to his mother’s hand. He was wearing a bright blue t-shirt with a picture of Elmo on the front. As his hand slipped away from his mothers, he began to dance and laugh in front of me. All he wanted was to be free and let the music drift through his small body. A kindred soul. But his mother wasn’t impressed and she grabbed his hand in frustration and dragged him further up the street. I turned to see his small head whip around, his joy replaced by a stiff hardness.
If I had a child there would be no way I’d treat him like that.
Me with a child? Ha! I wasn’t even in a relationship. Most men were intimidated by my father and were scared away before things got serious. I didn’t blame them; he could be difficult to warm to. My destiny was to marry someone rich that I’d hadn’t met yet, and be expected to throw luncheons and tennis parties. And I hated tennis.
The song was coming to a close and I belted out the last note for a strong finish. The small crowd clapped and then rushed to put money into the hat then hurried away. Before I’d had a chance to stand they’ve dispersed.
I looked down at the Fedora. There was at least a hundred dollars in it today.
Picking it up I arranged the notes from smallest to largest denomination, folded them over and wrapped a rubber band neatly around them. Then I placed the coins and the notes in a small plastic zippered bag.
Placing the empty hat back on my head and slinging my guitar over my shoulder, I walked determinedly toward a dark alleyway. Most people avoided this alley but I stepped inside without hesitation.
Ahead a man in disheveled clothing was seated on a wooden crate. His possessions were in torn cloth bags that surrounded him. I walked over.
“Hey Tommi, how’d you sleep?”
“Great Miss Cara. Bed’s as soft as a rat’s ass.”
I grinned. “I have a gift for you.”
“I ain’t taking your money, told you that.”
“But this isn’t my money.”
“Stole it did ya?” He laughed a toothy grin.
I held the zippered bag out for him. “People in the street just started giving it to me for no reason. It was the strangest thing.”
“Loopholes.” He reached out his hand. “Fine then. How much is it?” He unzipped it and looked inside, then whistled. “Jeez Louise.”
“It’ll be more than enough to get you a warm bed and a full belly.”
“I’ll be as rich as your daddy soon if you keep bringing me your takings. Gonna invest it in the stock market or some such. Make a mill over night.”
I laughed. “Sure you will. Now I might be going away for a bit, so I won’t be able to visit.”
“A vacay? Where you going? The Bahamas? France? Denmark?”
I tilted my head to the side. “Just out of town for awhile. Need some air.”
He took a big sniff. “What’s wrong with this air? Smells as sweet as a rotting fish carcass in here. My kinda living.”
I shook my head, rolled my eyes then waved him goodbye as I stepped back into the street.
I walked over to the parking lot toward a silver BMW and placed my guitar and hat into the backseat. I took the jacket off the clothes hangar near the passenger door and shrugged into it. Now I looked every bit as corporate as the crowd that had stopped to listen to my music.
As I walked around to the driver’s side and got in, I checked my face in the mirror. A stray blonde curl had escaped from my neatly arranged ponytail and I contemplated leaving it before heading to work, but decided against it and neatly tucked it back into place.
If I was to make this request to my father then I needed to show him I was professional and competent rather than the child he still treated me like. I couldn’t have him thinking this was just another wild whim. This was my everything. My last chance of freedom before I was destined to live the Westwood life forever.
Chapter 2
I watched the assistant’s eyes as my father opened the door to his office. They glazed over with a dreamy expression and her mouth parted ever so slightly. He had that effect on women, although since my mother died five years ago, he’d yet to start dating again. The assistant was new, and I didn’t know her name. I used to make it my mission to introduce myself to each and every one of them, but after the seventh different girl in as many months, I now resorted to smiling politely at each new face. This was assistant number sixteen.
“Five minutes, Cara. I’ve got a busy schedule today.” When did my father not have a busy schedule?
I followed him into his office and looked behind him at the ci
ty below. My father’s office was on the top floor of the Mitchell Westwood Enterprises building. My office was on the floor below and while I did have an impressive view, it didn’t match the one that filled the floor to ceiling windows at my father’s back.
He didn’t bother sitting down, but stood with his arms crossed over his chest waiting for me to explain why I wanted to see him right now.
“It’s about the promotion.”
“You know it’s already yours.”
“About that.”
“Cara, we’ve discussed this over and over. You’ve agreed that on your twenty fourth birthday you’ll take over the marketing department. I need someone I can trust.” His voice was gruff and demanding, the same tone he used in business meetings when he was about to cut down a co-workers idea. But I wasn’t a co-worker I was his only child.
“I need time away. My birthday it still four weeks away. I don’t need to be here in the lead up.” And it wasn’t like the company would be any better or worse if I were here, I barely contributed anything right now.
“You don’t know the business. The whole idea of you being here is so you can learn.”
“I’ve got all the time in the world to learn. I told you I would take it, even though it isn’t in my heart to do so. Let me have these four weeks.” I wasn’t going to back down on this. If my father had taught me anything in life it was to demand what you wanted and go and get it. I wanted this.
He exhaled loudly and walked around to the back of his desk. “You’re too stubborn. Once you get an idea in your head you don’t let go.”
“I wonder where I get that from?”
His expression softened and I could see a small grin form on his lips. “Four weeks? You think you can get rid of all those crazy dreams in your head in just four weeks?”
There was no way I could ever get rid of my dreams. Not in four weeks, not in a lifetime. But four weeks was better than nothing, so I’d make it my everything. “I’ll be back here the day before my birthday. I promise.”
“When do you want to leave?”
I looked down at the dark corporate designer skirt I was wearing. I could be in jeans in a flash. The t-shirt hidden under my jacket would be revealed as soon as I undid the buttons and flung the heavy linen to the side. “Immediately.”
He raised an eyebrow and tapped his fingers on his desk. “You’ve packed already. You expected me to agree and you’ve made provisions.” It wasn’t a question. He knew when my mind was set on something, I’d do anything to get it. Maybe we weren’t so unalike after all.
I walked over to him and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a month.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“Wherever the road takes me.”
“You don’t have a plan?”
Oh, I had a plan all right, but the destination wasn’t part of that. My plan was to find some small town where no one knew who Cara Westwood - daughter of billionaire Mitchell Westwood, was. I wanted to experience life as a real person, without expectation, without constraints, without judgment.
I wanted to play my guitar, watch the sunset, and kick the dust with my bare feet. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of nowhere without anyone rushing to see if I was okay. I wanted to kiss someone who wasn’t thinking about how much money I was worth, but simply got caught up in the moment. I wanted to fall into the arms of some gorgeous stranger and have the best sex I’ve ever had.
“I don’t have a plan,” I said.
“Take your phone. Call me if you need help. I’ll agree, but you must be in contact so I know you’re okay.”
“I’ll be fine.”
The door opened and his assistant stuck her head through. “Mr. Brighton is here,” she said.
My father didn’t take his eyes off me. “Tell him to wait. I’m in a meeting.” As the assistant shut the door behind her again, my father walked toward me and placed his hands on the sides of my arms. “Cara, I know you’ll be fine but I insist you take your phone. Have it with you at all times.”
“I will.” I reached around and hugged him warmly. “Thank you for this.”
He sighed and stroked my hair. “I’ll miss you. We’ve never been apart since your mother past.”
A knot formed in my throat and I pressed against my father tighter, letting him hold me like he did when I was younger. When I pulled from the embrace the stiff look in his face had returned. “Go,” he said. “I’m busy.”
I turned and walked over to the door. My hand hovered on the door handle before I opened it. “See you soon.”
I didn’t wait for his response as I walked out and headed straight for the elevator.
In forty minutes I’d be out of the city and on my way to something exciting. I could feel it.
But only for one month.
Chapter 3
I had driven all day and stopped at three different small towns for lunch, gas, or to stretch my legs. None of them felt right, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever find what I was looking for. Not that I knew exactly what it was I wanted. Maybe that was the problem.
Since sunset would be here soon and I was tired of driving, I decided that whatever town I hit next would be the one I’d stay for at least two days, maybe three if it had potential. And by potential, I meant fun, music and a distraction in the form of someone muscled and gorgeous. Then I’d move on to the next place being free and without ties. I didn’t think spending the entire month in the same town was a good idea since the whole point of this trip was to explore places I didn’t normally visit and do things out of my comfort zone. Perhaps my father was right and I should have planned this better, but what fun would that have been?
A scattering of houses were the first clue I was nearing a new town and I glanced down at my GPS to see that it was only a few miles ahead. It didn’t take long before I passed a large sign that read Parton’s Creek - Township With Heart. How sweet. Maybe I’d like this one after all.
The first thing I needed to do, was find somewhere to stay.
Closer to the center of town I noticed an old wooden vacancy sign swinging in the breeze. The house was painted white and had an open wrap around porch with wicker chairs and plump cushions. An oak tree in the front yard had thick branches that begged to be climbed. If I was younger I might have done just that. I could definitely see myself sitting on one of those chairs sipping a glass of wine while the sun went down.
I drove into the driveway and parked before getting out and taking in my surroundings. A sign pointed me back to the front of the house, and I followed it and stepped inside the already open front door.
“Well, howdy there, you looking for a room, darlin’?” A woman in her forties with thick makeup looked up from her crossword then stood up with her hand extended and a friendly smile.
“Yes. I saw the vacancy sign outside and was hoping you’d have a room available.”
She grinned warmly and I immediately felt at ease. “Oh, we never fill up. Don’t get too many visitors in Parton’s. Too out of the way for most folk.”
Out of the way. Just what I was looking for.
“So if you want to stay, you’ve got your pick of rooms.” She leaned in like she wanted to tell me a big secret. “But I think you’d like the attic room. Has a great view.” She winked conspiratorially.
I didn’t dare tell her that I was used to views at my father’s office and my own apartment back in the city. “It sounds perfect, I’ll take it.”
“Great!” She walked around the counter and I followed her up the stairs.
The attic was small and cozy with a large four-poster bed in the middle that took up most of the room. A window in the pitched roof opened out over the back garden that was full of roses. Some of those same roses were in a vase to the side of the bed perfuming the room delicately.
“Fifty for the night, up front.” She held her hand out and I reached for my purse, handing over the money.
“I’ll p
robably stay two nights, but I’m not sure yet. Can I let you know tomorrow?”
“Sure. Stay as long as you want.” A warm smile brightened her face. “Do you need help with your luggage?”
“Oh right. It’s in the car. No, I’m fine, thank you, I can get it.”
“If you need anything else, just holler.” She turned to walk out.
“Yes, I’m a bit hungry, is there somewhere around here to grab dinner?”
She nodded. “A few restaurants in main street, and there’s Ned’s bar up two blocks from here. It get’s a bit rowdy, but the food’s nice.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t mind rowdy, I just wanted a hot meal so I could come back and fall into the comforts of this huge bed.
Once I’d unpacked, I stepped outside and began to walk in the direction of Ned’s bar.
It was easy to find, with its green neon lights advertising cheap beer and wine. Outside the building a few cars and one motorcycle parked neatly within the painted white lines, but most of the parking spaces were empty. I guessed that was normal when it was within walking distance to everything.
I pushed open the glass door and the music greeted me first, followed by the smell of beer. Either someone had recently spilled a bottle on the carpet, or it was the drink of choice here. It looked clean enough though and I stepped inside.
A curved bar took up one wall and had stools pushed up to it. In the middle of the room, tables with wooden chairs were lined up neatly and on the other side, booths with red leather seats.
Toward the back of the bar, an old jukebox blinked, flashed and hummed. That was where the music came from, crisp and clear. Next to it a small raised stage, for a band or perhaps an out of town visitor with singing ambition in her heart. To my right another room, with a pool table and a dartboard.
About twenty people were inside Ned’s Bar, two men in baseball caps with bottles of beer in their hands watching a TV attached to the wall, three groups of people at tables, laughing or having loud conversations. A few more men and one scantily dressed woman circled the pool table, watching the balls being shot into the velvet pockets. Three staff, made obvious by the black t-shirts with Ned’s bar written across the front of them. A woman in one of those t-shirts walked over to me. Her red hair was piled messily high and fastened with a black clip. “Table or Booth?” She gave me a friendly smile.
The Biker Page 1