Biker Chick

by Dakota Knight

  “If you want to get back in after you’re finished eating, just let me know. I’ll run some more water.”

  I smiled and said, “Are you reading my mind or what? You’d do that?”

  He smiled back. “For you . . . anything.”

  I shifted in the tub again, preparing to get out, but then I paused. Ray was looking at me, with the tray in his hand, and I felt a rush of modesty. For some reason, I didn’t want him to see me naked. Even though he had seen me in all my glory countless times over the years we had been together, I found myself actively looking for a towel.

  “What’s wrong?” Ray asked, concerned.

  I looked from left to right. “I need a towel,” I said.

  “Oh.”

  My eyes shifted to Ray. He was looking around now.

  “Hey, why don’t you go ahead and set that tray up and I’ll dry off.”

  Ray looked down at the tray. His expression didn’t change, but I could see the questions forming in his eyes. But the only thing he asked me was, “You sure?”

  I gripped the edge of the tub and acted as if I was about to get out. I rose up a bit before sitting back down. The water splashed around me and I groaned. “I’m almost sure,” I said, chuckling. “But this water feels damn good.”

  “I’m glad it does,” Ray said before turning to the door. “Just let me know if I can do anything for you.”

  “You’ve done enough,” I said sincerely, smiling warmly. “You’ve really surprised me today.”

  After Ray left, I exhaled deeply and relaxed for another minute or so before finally exiting the tub. I stood in the center of the large white rug in front of the tub and let the water drip from my body before I peeled off the rose petals that remained. I never did find a towel, so I took one of the soft terrycloth robes from the door and secured it on my body before heading out the door.

  Ray was waiting for me by the bed, looking sort of like a lost puppy that didn’t quite recognize its owner. Or maybe I was the lost one looking into the mirror. I smiled and stepped toward the bed. Ray patted the mattress as I neared.

  “Lay down and relax.” He held up the remote to our stereo system and turned up the volume. A jazz selection flowed through the air. “Let me feed my baby.”

  I stopped just before I reached the bed. I wondered just how sorry he was. How much he was willing to give of himself.

  “Before I get in the bed, I have a question for you.”

  Ray raised his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he said.

  “What happened to you?” I asked, pointing toward his injured eye. “I think I deserve to know.”

  Ray closed his eyes and sighed. I prepared for an argument. I prepared for him to slam the plate down and leave the room. Instead he opened his eyes and patted the bed again. “Come and sit down.”

  I complied.

  We stared at each other before I said, “Tell me.”

  “Can you accept the fact that I can’t give you each and every detail of my life? That I have to keep some things to myself for your protection?”

  I nodded. Of course I understood the nature of the game. I had lived in the world . . . continued to live in that world. But I still wanted to know what happened.

  Ray sighed again and continued, “You know I’ve been trying to get out, baby, but the price is high. Real high. And what you see before you is just a part of that. See, I’ve made some mistakes. Things that could have messed it up for us. And I have to pay the price for that. Now, don’t worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. It’s just that the price I have to pay for my freedom is higher than it would have been otherwise, feel me? Believe me, I didn’t realize how hard it would be to be free from my crew.”

  I wondered if my dad had this conversation with my mom. I wondered how she would have reacted. Knowing her, she wouldn’t have been too hard on him. She always thought that one of most important things a woman could do is support her man, especially when he was trying to open up and when he was trying to make something good out of his situation. I wanted to be that type of woman too. I reached for his face and said, “But if you really want to get out, you can. My dad did it. Can’t you just do what you have to do? For us?”

  Ray steadied the tray on the bed before reaching for my face. His caress was soft and warm. “Just believe me when I say that I’m trying. But you have to understand that things are going to be a whole lot more difficult for us before they’re good again. Understand that I’ve done some things that you may not like, but I did them for us. Understand that we may be separated for a while because of what I have to do.”

  “What do you mean, separated?” I almost shrieked at the thought of more lonely nights.

  “You need to trust me, Crystal. Trust me and know that in the end, everything’s going to be all right. Can you do that for me? Can you trust me?”

  I nodded and said, “Yeah, I can trust you.”

  “And do you forgive me?”

  “I do.”

  Ray smiled. “Thanks, Ma. You don’t know how much your trust and forgiveness means to me.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Well, are you going to let me take care of you or what?” he asked, glancing at the tray of food.

  “Hell, yeah! It’s not every day a girl gets her man to feed her like she’s a queen.” I lay back on the bed and waited to be served.

  Ray reached for the tray, picking up a strawberry from the plate with a fork.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you, too,” I said before taking the strawberry into my mouth and letting the sweetness of the fruit soothe all of the worry that remained.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Before too long I began to recognize my mistake . . .

  Remember when I wrote that the trouble began with three parties? And that’s so true. If I hadn’t gone out on that day of the purse party, who knows if I would have ever met Ray. And if I hadn’t had the biggest eighteenth birthday party in the city, who knows if we would have ended up together? Then, we made up after my graduation party. That’s the funny thing about fate. Mom told me once that things have to happen in just the right order for people to meet their destiny.

  So, what about my fate? Well, things had to change one day. Me and Ray were living too good, living “high off the hog” as my grandmother from Mississippi would say. But I can’t lie and say I was prepared. When the walls came crashing down, I was surprised.

  Things had definitely changed in the two weeks following the “Incident” as I named it in my journal. Ray did make more of an effort to stick around, but we were both more cautious during our time together. Before the “Incident,” we were both so animated and we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. After the Incident, we would just sit around and watch movies . . . or I would watch him play videogames. Before the Incident, we made sure to spend time riding together, even during the times he wasn’t spending much time at home. But that definitely wasn’t the case afterwards.

  But the most telling thing of all was our lovemaking. After all the force during the Incident, Ray acted as if I was fragile. He was so slow. It was nice, and it felt good, but I needed more action. But I thought he was trying so hard to be there for me, so I didn’t say anything to him. I just went through the motions. I still felt like there was something missing, and I wanted to get it back.

  The day it all went down, it was sunny, not a cloud in the sky. It was one of those days made for the road. By the time I woke up, Ray was already gone, but he left me a short note on my nightstand saying that he would be home in time for dinner. We hadn’t gone out to eat for a long time and I thought it would be a good idea if we painted the town. After I showered, I chose some long black pants and a sleeveless sleek silver top for dinner. I wanted to ride Foxy Baby wherever we went so I knew it would be the perfect outfit.

  I picked up my journal to begin my morning ritual . . . writing: I think I can make us work. I want to do it. These two weeks have shown me that Ray is the onl
y man for me, that even though we’re going through a rough spot right now, it’ll be good in the end. I have to trust that it will. I have to trust him. So, tonight, after the dinner, the ride, and the return, I’m going to take control. I’m going to let him know how much I want him, how much I’ll always want him. I wonder if it’s this hard for every couple. I wonder how people stay together for decades. We haven’t even made it five years. But I think we will. I really think we will . . .

  I checked my little stash to see how much I had in reserve . . . just under eight hundred dollars. Not bad, but not good either. Enough to get me through the day, at least. I put in my call for an emergency facial and makeup appointment at the Art, and then I called for the person I needed almost as much as I needed Ray—Cassie. I offered her an extra hundred to come and work on me. She was the best and I had to have her. I almost jumped for joy when I heard the doorbell ring. I rushed to the door and opened it. Cassie, tanned, tall, and thin, stood there, holding her goods and staring down at me.

  “Hey, Cassie, I really need you to work on me today,” I told her as I motioned for her to come inside.

  “What would you like?” she asked in a perky tone.

  “I need that deep tissue or muscle rub, or whatever you call it. I need to be as relaxed as possible for the rest of today ’cause tonight it’s going to be on and poppin’.”

  Cassie giggled as we headed for the bedroom. She began to set up her table. She was, without a doubt, the best message therapist on the planet, or, at least, the best that I had met anyway. She gave me a couple of scented candles to light up, which I did.

  “I’m ready when you are,” she said once she finished her preparations. I was already in my towel and ready to go. I literally jumped on the table and let Cassie do her thing.

  After getting my massage from Cassie, I was so relaxed I almost didn’t hear my cell phone ring. It took all my effort to reach for my phone. Ray’s cell phone number appeared in my phone’s caller ID. I pressed Send to answer the call.

  “Hello, sexy, when you coming home?” I asked.

  “Hey, Ma, I got a couple things to take care of, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Hmmm. Would you handle your business faster if I told you I had something special waiting for you at home.”

  I grinned when I heard Ray groan.

  “You trying to get a brotha’s mind all messed up so he can’t concentrate?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Now you’ve got me interested. Can I get a hint?”

  “Well, let me just say that after we go out, you can go in . . . if you get my drift.”

  Ray groaned again and said, “Now you’re trying to get me in trouble in front of my boyz.”

  “Is it working?” I asked seductively. Our conversation felt good, and I hoped how I felt was just a preview of what was in store for us tonight.

  There was a pause. For a minute, I thought the call had dropped. I said “hello” twice. “Ray, are you there?” I asked.

  I waited a couple more seconds and was about to hang up when Ray replied.

  “Yo, Ma, let me get back with you.” His voice sounded serious and I became concerned.

  “Ray, is something wrong?” I asked, but this time, I knew I wouldn’t get a reply. The dead silence let me know that Ray had ended the call.

  I stared at my cell, wondering what was going on. My stomach became unsettled as the worry in my mind began to flow through me. Girl, don’t worry, Ray told you he was around his boys. Maybe they gave him a hard time and he tried to act all serious. You need to go ahead and get ready for tonight. I tried to make myself feel better, but my stiffening shoulders made me wish that Cassie was still in my bedroom.

  As soon as I dropped my cell on the bed, it started ringing again. I smiled, thinking, I told you everything was all right. I grabbed the phone and flipped it open.

  “Hey, baby, everything okay?” I asked. “You ready for tonight?”

  The response wasn’t what I expected.

  A deep male voice said, “You don’t know me, but I know Ray.” It was a voice I didn’t recognize.

  “Who the fuck is this?” I asked, my voice rising in concern. I stared at my cell’s display to check out the number. Nothing appeared on the screen. My heart started thumping hard as I quickly imagined all of the bad things that could have happened to Ray. “I said, who the fuck is this and what the fuck do you want?” My voice was trembling now.

  “I don’t have time to explain. All I have to say is you have thirty minutes, maybe less, to erase your existence from Ray’s home and leave. There’s money under the kitchen sink. Ride off with your motorcycle, they don’t know about that. Please take this seriously. That’s all.”

  “What did you do to Ray!” I yelled into the phone. “What happened to Ray!” I screamed. But the caller had already ended the called.

  I didn’t know who the caller was, but based on his tone, I decided to take his advice. I had to leave our house. I looked around our bedroom. How could I erase the memories of three years? I could see myself everywhere, from the window curtains to the corners. Please take this seriously, the deep voice told me. And I did. I ran into my closet and grabbed the largest bag I could carry on my Ninja. I threw on some Apple Bottoms and one of Ray’s Sean John T-shirts. The smell of his Drakkar filled my noise. I slipped my feet into some Reebok flip-flops and tried to gather what I could.

  Thank God I wasn’t a paper person. After our first year together, Ray made sure we kept separate P.O. boxes at separate post office branches. I didn’t have a lot a documents to go through. Not that I would have had time anyway. I gathered what few papers I had, along with some pictures. I stuffed a couple of outfits in the bag. I didn’t have room for shoes. Despite the hurried pace, I kept everything looking neat. I was always a neat freak, and I basically had stock in Molly Maids, so it looked clean.

  I moved to the bathroom, dumping my toiletries into my bag. A mental clock was ticking in my brain. You don’t have a lot of time. You don’t have a lot of time. He told you to take this seriously. How many minutes has it been? Five? Ten? Twelve? He told you that you only had thirty minutes or less. You don’t have a lot of time. You’re out of fucking time. Hurry up and get the fuck out of there.

  I ran to the kitchen, knelt down in front of the sink and opened the cabinets. At first, I panicked because I didn’t see any money. No bag, no green, nothing. But then common sense took over. I knocked against the back on the cabinet until I felt something hollow. When the back gave way, I retrieved a medium-sized bag of cash and some papers. I took it and stuffed it into the bag. I closed the cabinets before running around the house one more time. Then, I headed for the garage.

  Before getting on my Ninja, I wiped away my tears and tried to suppress my feelings of fear and hopelessness. I was leaving the place I’d called home for three years with just the clothes on my back and a bag on my steel. You’re out of fucking time. My mind was still racing when I let up the garage and backed my motorcycle out. I jumped off and ran back into the garage to let it back down. I looked down the street before I took off, not knowing which way to go. Shadows seemed to lie in all directions. I inhaled deeply before I put on my helmet and revved up my steel. Once again, I was riding with the wind, but for the first time in recent memory, I didn’t have anywhere to go.

  Chapter Seventeen

  And I hoped for my sake that I didn’t realize it too late . . .

  An almost overbearing sense of fear hit me once I turned onto the main street leading from our house. Over the sound of my engine, I could swear I heard sirens. My heart and mind were telling me that those sirens were coming for me. I was stopped at a red light and I wanted to burn. Every inch of me was saying Go! Go! Go! But something was nagging at me, something about the house. Did I leave something behind? I thought. Despite the urge to go back, I knew I couldn’t return. I had run out of time.

  Instead, I pushed forward when the light turned green, keeping my focus on the r
oad. I thought about my options. I could stay at a motel, but the thought of staying in some rat hole didn’t sit too well with me. Of course, there was absolutely no way I could go to Mom’s. In the time I had been with Ray, Mom had grown closer to Gregory. Closer than I ever thought possible. She had remarried and moved to California with her new husband over a year and a half ago, instructing me not to contact her until I got my life straight. And Dymond and Lala . . . well, I hadn’t been keeping in touch like I should have. Shit, none of us were. But they were still living in the Meadows, so I knew I had to return. I was Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind. She always had her old slave plantation in Georgia, and I always had the big modern plantation, the Greenland Meadows.

  Through the grace of God, I kept my composure and made it to the Meadows. It still looked the same, but I knew places like the Meadows never really changed. It was still all brick with broken windows and broken promises and dreams. There was still hope though, running around in the form of children playing their various games in the summer sun, not really knowing just how bad life was. I wished, just for a moment, that I could be a kid again, playing in sand or running through the water spouting out of one of the jacked fire hydrants. So much for my own promises and dreams.

  I parked my ride just outside of Dymond’s apartment. I took off my helmet and grabbed my bag, throwing it over my shoulder as I struggled with the entrance door and began staggering up to the third floor. I was barely functional by the time Dymond answered her door. She still looked the same, pretty and petite, despite the fact she had two kids by Shadow. Unfortunately, Shadow had gotten killed last year. Word on the street was that he got assassinated by some killer named the Brown Recluse ’cause he was trying to talk to the feds. But officially, it was just another drug-related death.

  Now, Dymond was back within the Meadows, living in the same building as her mother. Trapped in the life we had sworn we’d never live over alcoholic drinks in our teenage years.