by J. C. Allen
The first thing that I felt when I saw Eve walk down the stairs the next day was just a sheer amount of excitement. I was supposed to be a badass leader of a biker gang, and here I was, a boy in puberty who could barely look at his crush without looking like a goddamn fucking idiot.
The second thing I felt was anger—certainly not at Eve, heavens, no. It was more at Rock, because as Eve walked out, wearing the same thing as the day before, I realized that Rock just didn’t supply her anything other than below the bare minimum. These were probably the only clothes she had that were worthwhile, and it killed me to know that Rock would not only never give her more normal clothes, he’d spit in her face if she ever tried to get some.
“Hey handsome,” she said.
“Hey sexy,” I said, handing her the helmet. “Let’s bust a move out of here before one of your employers decides to wonder who I am, shall we?”
“Without question,” Eve said, straddling her legs over my bike as she wrapped her arms around me.
This feeling—of someone entrusting their life to me, of holding the fate of their soul in my ability to navigate the roads on two wheels—was something I never took for granted.
With Eve, though, it felt especially pronounced. The other girls who had ridden my bike, I certainly didn’t want to kill them, but I wasn’t especially invested in their safety. It was more of a “well, they know what they’re signing up for” feeling.
Eve, though? I felt like a bodyguard sworn to help her escape on this bike.
“Where are we going?” Eve shouted over the roar of the bike.
Oh, I knew where we were going. But half the fun was in the surprise.
And the other half was in her getting to know me a little bit better.
“You’ll see,” I said. “Just hang tight.”
I had made this journey many, many times in my younger days. The funny thing was, “younger days” wasn’t really that long ago. We weren’t talking something from a decade ago, but instead, just a few years ago.
Before my family got gunned down.
I had some trepidation that when I got to this new location, this small town main street, with a small river running underneath it and woods leading up to it, that I would experience the kind of nasty flashbacks I used to get with Maggie whenever I stopped the bike. It wasn’t an unjustified worry.
But by the time I’d spent a few minutes smelling nature’s scent, having escaped the smog of the city and the traffic of the lunch rush, I realized that no such thing would come—and if it did, it would likely flash for mere seconds before I recovered and went about my date with Eve. Instead, I drifted into a lull and a sense of peace.
“Wow,” Eve whispered as we slipped onto the main street, taking in the sights of the small, independent shops and storefronts. It brought back many memories, and I was pleased to say that most of them were pleasant—and even the unpleasant ones were more nostalgic, such as the fights Dustin and I would have.
“Nice, isn’t it?” I said. It was time for Eve to know why I’d come to this seemingly random small suburb. “I grew up here.”
Eve, having just gotten off the bike, looked back in surprise.
“Really? Why’d you move to the city?”
It was a fair question, but I didn’t want to kill the mood with the real reason. I didn’t want to remind myself daily who was no longer here.
“Needed to be closer for work,” I said, which I felt had an element of truth to it. Work, after all, involved me avenging the death of my parents, brother, wife, and daughter.
But more to the point, I pointed Eve toward the tall sign just at the entrance of the Main Street, “Sundays in Samsville,” the sign that signaled that this was not just a typical Sunday, and it was not just a day in which the town would be devoid of its workers who had headed into the city for work.
Eve read the sign aloud, and turned to me in confusion.
“It’s why we’re here,” I said “It’s a festival they do here once a month in the summer. Vendors, artists, food tents… pretty much anything you could think of. There’s plenty to do, believe me, but…”
While I was here to show Eve my hometown and show her a good time, I was also going to indulge in my own desires just a little bit.
“There’s a couple here—a family, I should say—who are here every year selling these candied brownies. I think they’re, like, the second or third generation to carry on the recipe, and I can remember my old man taking us here when I was a kid. Those brownies are something of a tradition for me. They have a hell of a sugar kick, but—”
“And that’s the only kind of high I’m going to get, huh?”
I snorted at the lame joke, but it really was kind of cute.
“Get high on life, Eve, and enjoy it.”
OK, that was also lame, but at least Eve laughed at it—and if she laughed at it, then yes, it was funny regardless of whatever anyone else wanted to say about my sense of humor.
She truly was a special and incredible woman.
We started forward on foot. At the next intersection, I saw that the road to the left, what started as a bridge that passed over the canal and continued on towards more stores and shops, had been closed off to host the event. Nothing unexpected about that, though I could tell by Eve’s reaction that she had probably not been to an event dedicated to fun like this in some time.
Ahead, the sounds of live music and people filled the air, which carried with it the wafting aromas of popcorn, grilling meats, and, yes, those special brownies.
Then, out of nowhere, I heard a loud growl—a stomach growl. I looked over to see Eve blushing, and though it might not have been the most chivalrous gesture, I just smiled and teased her.
“Hungry much?” I said.
“S-sorry,” she said, chuckling nervously. “I guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”
“Good,” I said. “Means I won’t be pigging-out alone.”
If only she had any modicum of an idea of how much food I could eat. She’ll soon realize it doesn’t matter how much she thinks she’s overeating, because it’ll pale in comparison to what I’m going to consume.
We made our way into the crowd and I couldn’t help but grow beyond grateful at how excited Eve looked at the rows of tents that housed a myriad of different vendors selling all sorts of goods. As we made our way to the first vendor, a photographer, we both looked through their photos of various destinations across Europe and the world in general. I smiled, enjoying the moment of just looking at the photos with Eve.
I wondered how much of the world Eve had gotten to see before Rock had kidnapped her. I knew her family wasn’t the most cohesive, but was that out of poverty or affluence?
I decided to kick the tires some.
“I’ve been here before,” I said, pointing to a photograph of a small port.
“Really? Where is this?”
“It was a small fisherman town in Rome,” I said. “My family went on a vacation there before my brother graduated high school. We ended up getting lost and stopped at a small restaurant to get something to eat and get our bearings. The view we had from there wasn’t much different than this picture, actually.”
The way Eve’s eyes lit up told me she’d not expected that answer. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised—I deliberately kept my life relatively low-key, which undersold just how much wealth the Knights had accumulated over the years. I didn’t live in the ghetto, but I also refused to buy a high-rise, downtown condo that would have cost north of seven figures.
But for Eve?
Maybe someday…
“Wow, that sounds amazing,” she smiled. “I’ve actually never left the States. I always wanted to travel, but never got around to it.”
“You still could,” I said with a wink.
I said it before I could really contemplate such a response, but I honestly didn’t care. I could afford to take Eve around the world a couple of times and still not worry about it. My Dad had always done well for us, an
d this was just one way he had helped.
I just wished the old man was there with me now. I just wished that he’d lived a little longer than past my wedding day. I just wished…
I was surprised to see that Eve, too, was slipping into something of a withdrawn mood. I was not sure what I said, but I knew she was probably thinking about Rock and her “job” and other sorts of bullshit that had no place in this festival.
“Hey, I thought we were both starving, right?” I said. I placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her more away from her thoughts than towards a cluster of food vendors. “What would you like?”
I’ll take all of this if I can. Stuff me full and I won’t have to eat for the rest of the day!
Eve looked at the various stands, smirked, and walked straight… past the ones with meat, pizza, and other typical lunch foods.
And, instead, she headed for the cotton candy stand.
“Oh good grief,” I said, gently teasing her. “You’re gonna have dessert now? You’re not going to save room for dessert?”
“Oh, you think I don’t have room for dessert in here?” she said with a smirk. “Don’t think I can’t go calorie for calorie with you, Derek.”
“I like a girl with an appetite,” I said.
“Then you’ll love me,” she boasted, then immediately blushed and paused.
I just smirked. I knew she didn’t mean it like she really loved me like Maggie had; such a thought was too soon.
But I knew if things kept going as they did, I would love her someday. She wasn’t wrong in that regard—the only question, honestly, as I saw it, was when, not if.
“I’ve always loved food,” she said, as if trying to right the subject, but I knew better. “I was always active enough to get away with eating what I wanted.”
“I love confidence in a girl, too,” I said. “I love that certainty that you can pull that off.”
Love. Now you’re saying it too.
Good grief, Derek. If you’re going to tippy-toe around this one, might as well come out and own it, no? If you’re just going to say it?
Why don’t you start sounding like a drunk running down the street then, saying you love everything!
But for as much as I critiqued myself, for as ridiculous as the thoughts in my head sounded… it didn’t come from an entirely insane place.
Still, even though I saw that Eve was blushing a bit—perhaps thinking the same thoughts as I was—I realized that I was probably smiling a bit too much. I quickly looked for a reason to look away, though definitely not one to leave—just one that didn’t reveal the inner monologue in my head with too loud of a metaphorical microphone.
I found it just seconds later.
“Tyson’s Jewelry,” an old family store that my father had gone to to purchase necklaces and bracelets for my mom, was a mere twenty feet away. Without letting Eve know, I trotted over and acknowledged the woman, who if memory served me right was named Francis.
“How’s it going?” I said with a smile.
“Derek Knight?”
“The one and only,” I said, trying to remain subdued.
“Goodness, Derek, I haven’t seen you in ages!” she said. “You moved out of the town and to the city. You left us folks behind.”
“Yeah, I know, sorry,” I said.
I heard Eve coming and I needed to make my move quickly before I could spoil the surprise.
“What’s your best gold-and-ruby necklace you have? I’ll buy it for her.”
“Her?”
I was relieved to hear that Francis did not sound judgmental and did not sound like she was admonishing me for dating someone dressed not as perfectly as possible. Perhaps it was because Francis was my age and not an older person—either way, it reminded me that maybe when it was all said and done, Eve and I could find our way out here to the countryside.
Eve and I. Good God, Derek. Patience really never has been your thing, huh?
“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend.”
I said it as quickly as I could in the hopes that Eve didn’t hear it—I didn’t want to scare her off by making that claim after only two dates, and it saved a lot of awkward conversation between Francis and her.
But what was stranger than any of that was how… how right it felt.
Francis came back and by now, Eve had stood by my side, but the point was made. Francis presented a gold necklace with two bright red rubies with wings inlaid amongst the rubies. I looked at Eve, whose eyes had begun to water, and motioned her to touch it. Eve did, as if petting an animal through a cage she wasn’t really supposed to touch.
“Real pretty, huh,” I said, in awe of the gal before me.
“Yes,” Eve said breathlessly, her words barely escaping her lips.
Without thinking, I pulled out a hundred. Francis tried to tell me it was only fifty bucks, but I told her to keep the change. I was paying as much for Eve’s reaction as I was for the necklace itself.
And as I saw Eve’s eyes widen—as I knew she was experiencing something that she had not in ages—my ears tuned out the rest of the world. The only thing my senses now focused on was the lovely lady before my eyes, the one trapped in a purgatory by the devil but one I would set her free from.
“May I?” I asked.
She nodded. Smiling, I continued, my hands reaching to put the wings of ruby-colored gorgeousness on her.
And then the necklace was clasped around her neck.
“There,” I said, realizing from her reaction just how profound this moment was. “Perfect. It’s where it belongs.”
I think she muffled out a thank you before she broke down in tears. Carefully, I led her to a park bench mostly out of sight of everyone else as I let her rest her head into my shoulder. I stole a glance at the time and felt immeasurable relief to know that it was not yet even 1 p.m. We had no rush whatsoever.
Finally, Eve pulled back, streaks down her eyes, her tears obvious, with a smile.
“C’mon, show me around, let’s go,” she said, seemingly deliberately oblivious to the way her face looked right now.
“You sure you’re okay?” I said, not quite believing her.
“Mm-hmm.”
“‘Cause… you look like you might start crying again.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You gonna start crying again?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But you’re okay?”
I had to laugh. I knew Eve wouldn’t take offense. She just…
I suspected that for her, it went beyond the necklace. I suspected that just the very fact that I had helped her spoke volumes for her—just the very fact that I had thought of her in that manner went above and beyond what anyone had done for her.
I knew so little of her, but I could already guess at so much. It wasn’t a stretch to say that her family life probably sucked. It definitely took no stretching to say her current situation sucked. The fact that I had so much as not treated her like an object made me the best person she’d associated with in some time.
It was sad.
But it was also weirdly hopeful for me in the sense that it meant I could make a true difference for her. Eve was more than a woman and certainly more than a prostitute—she was potential for enormous humanity if I could just help her out.
“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said softly, falling back into my shoulder, kissing me on the cheek. “You’re amazing, Derek.”
As sweet as the moment was…
I wasn’t amazing. I ran a gang, for fuck’s sake. People had a five-figure bounty on my head. Even if people didn’t want to kill me, I still engaged in the gray-market trade of soft drugs, sex toys, and other various paraphernalia. And that was before the Black Falcons darkened that gray market.
I was not going to give up on chasing Eve and was not going to stop rescuing her, but she couldn’t live in a naive world where I was her knight in shining armor. At best, I was a kind mercenary. At worst, I was a gruff, unreachable soldier who j
ust wanted to quit as soon as he could.
“I hope you don’t mind it coming from me,” I said, surprised to hear my voice a bit weak.
She looked up at him, confused. It occurred to me I had never set her straight—to be fair, I hadn’t really had time to, and to do so on our first few encounters would not have worked in my favor. Now, though, I had to.
“Why should I mind that?” she asked.
“Because I’m damaged goods,” I said. With that, the floodgates opened. “The ‘wrong guy’-sort, you know? The guy that everyone’s friends and parents warn them not to get involved with. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t see myself that way. But I’m the leader of a biker gang—that’s not exactly something Daddy wants their daughter to get caught up with.”
Eve still had her legs touching mine as she looked to evaluate me. It was fairly obvious she did not agree with me, but she could disagree all she wanted, it didn’t change anything.
“If you’re damaged goods then what am I?”
Anything but.
“A working girl.”
“So why me?” she said, nodding toward two extraordinarily attractive blondes… whom I had little interest in other than objectively saying they were pretty. “Why aren’t you buying them beautiful jewelry and showing them magical nights?”
“Because girls like that are a dime-a-dozen,” I said quickly.
It was true. What I didn’t explicitly say to Eve was that as the leader of the biker gang, I could have—and had had—many women like the blondes that had walked by. No one would ever make the mistake of dating me, but plenty wanted the thrill of riding the bike, of fucking a biker gangster, of saying they rode with the bad boy.
The funny thing was, it wasn’t that long ago that I was just your cliche blue-collar husband, doing slightly better than your typical low-paying role, but still ultimately as far removed from “bad boy” as you could get. Even now, I was too nice and too morally upright to be a bad boy. Hell, I didn’t even know how to define it, though I felt reasonably certain it wasn’t me.
In any case, though, the excess supply of such girls made them boring. They had the intelligence of a first grader’s drawing and the backstory of a rock by the concrete of my apartment complex. I needed something more—if they were a dime a dozen, I needed to find my rare two-dollar bill.