by Stacia Leigh
Sure, you catch more flies with vinegar. No…wait. Honey. Where had he heard that before? He took out the deck of cards, a water bottle, and his survival kit to make room for the beer beside Mom’s ashes and the apple pie. There was room for one more, and Miki didn’t balk when he crammed her bottle into his bag, too.
There were no pockets in his Ghetto Gramps, so he pulled the green hoodie over his head, his cast sliding easily through the cut sleeve. He tucked his folding knife, his new scratching stick, and a Mini Mag-Lite into his long front pocket. Everything was shipshape and ready to go. He turned to her.
She sat quietly, watching him, the bright lantern casting long shadows across her face. Her skin looked like brown sugar, smooth, tan, and she smelled good, too. Anise and vanilla and flowery shampoo.
“Your blue hair is growing on me,” he said. See? Add some honey. He could be sweet.
“So,” Miki said and shrugged, giving him the bored look, one he, himself, perfected over a year ago. Two words sat on the tip of his tongue: What’s changed? But he kept his mouth shut. Did he want to show her his weak and needy side? Not really.
The guys were being awfully quiet out there, so Will leaned forward to slowly lift the flap, but ended up catching Flossy’s eye. Those guys were way too attentive for his liking.
Will gave him the Yo, bro chin-nod, then lowered the fabric back down.
“We’re never going to get out of here,” he muttered while Miki shuffled the cards. “And, I don’t feel like playing, so now what?”
“Small talk. I’ll start,” Miki said, dealing out a hand of solitaire. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?”
“I don’t know, but I know what you should be…a nurse.” He watched her fingers flip through the cards. “Remember when we used to play doctor? You had a dolphin scarf you used to wrap around my leg like a cast. Man, I loved it.” He nudged her foot with his, but she didn’t look up.
“I wanna be a mechanic,” she said. “Instead of saving lives, I’ll save one bike at a time.”
“Because of your dad or is it something you really want to do?” Will waited a beat, but she didn’t answer. “You always had a wrench in your hand. My favorite part was when you’d pretend to crank on my ankles and knee caps. God, it tickled, and it was all I could do not to flinch.” He had a hard time imagining her in baggy overalls with grease under her nails. “Because if I flinched, I knew you’d rack me in the nuts or something.”
Finally, she wiped off the serious look and grinned down at her two of clubs. “That doesn’t sound very doctorly. Besides, people are gross. Pus, crap, spit, blood. Then, there’s the smell of vomit. Gag. No thanks.” She flicked the end of her card with her thumbnail. “I think you should be a counselor.”
“What?” Will laughed. He couldn’t even picture caring about someone else’s problems.
A loud crash echoed off the circle of trees, and Leo’s voice bellowed into the campsite. “Look what I dug up! A pulverized piece of…”
There was a loud grunt.
Will whipped open the tent flap in time to see a bald-headed dude skid into camp on his face, his shirt and mouth filling with dirt. The guy’s tattooed arms were held behind his back with several bands of duct tape, and his black leather vest had an ugly patch, Pulver Skulls MC. His face was swollen on one side like he’d taken a serious beating at the hands of Leo the Lion, and blood dribbled from his split lip and busted nose.
“Oh…shit,” Will whispered, and Miki gasped. She covered her mouth and stared at her dad with wide eyes.
“You’re gonna pay!” The dude spat blood out of his mouth as he eased up on his knees. One of his eyes had puffed shut, but the other looked around, searching the faces. Across the campsite, his one crystal blue eye met Will’s. The guy didn’t look away.
A shiver crawled up Will’s spine. He shifted back into the shadows and lowered the tent flap a tad, hiding his face, yet still able to peer around it.
Owen kicked the pulverized P-skull between the shoulder blades, planting him back in the dirt. Then, Leo knelt on one knee. “You shut up. You’re in a world of hurt. Where’d your buddies go, huh? Left you for the wolves, did they?”
The guy gave a harsh laugh as in, You wish, then howled up to the tree tops—“He’s here!”—like a coyote calling to his pack.
The camp fell quiet.
“Tape him to the tree,” Leo said in a low voice. “Someone get me a baseball bat. Maybe we get answers, maybe we don’t, but we can have fun while we’re swinging.”
Will dropped his arm, and the tent flap swished closed. His heart knocked hard against his ribcage like a hammering motor ready to throw a rod. Engine failure was imminent. He did not, could not be around for this, and neither should Miki, which meant they both needed to check out. He rubbed a soothing hand over his eyebrow, but it trembled uselessly, so he dropped it. His eyes searched for hers.
“That dude…” Will murmured. “I’m almost positive he was in my room. At the hospital.”
“My gut says it’s time to go,” she said, looking scared out of her wits as she eased into her leather coat. Everything was in place. Her saddle bags had been packed earlier and were cinched onto her bike, ready and waiting. Will shrugged into his backpack as swiftly and silently as he could while heavy boots and sharp voices bounced around camp on the other side of the tent flaps.
He pulled his knife from his hoodie pocket and flipped it open. With a gentle pop, he pierced the fabric at the back of the tent, slicing the wall open from top to bottom and across, making an “L” shape. He held a finger to his lips. Be quiet. Then he stepped out into the darkness.
CHAPTER 12: Nocturnal
Miki’s scalp tingled from the chilly air that ran through her hair at eighty miles per hour. Putting their helmets on wasn’t part of their last minute plan when she and Will ran for her bike. She’d jumped on, revved the engine, and alerted the entire camp they were leaving. Dad had roared, “Miki! No!” and raced toward her like a raging bull, but she’d gunned it out of there with only one problem: They had a tail.
It was probably Owen or Trip, maybe even Flossy. Who knew? After wasting an hour taking lefts and rights on the backroads, they finally hit pavement. Now, they were free, racing back toward Trout Lake to the Powerhouse Inn where they’d find answers, save Bill and Liam, and go home.
This time the ride was easy since she was pumped full of adrenaline. She couldn’t slouch if she wanted to, and she doubted Will could either. He held onto her with a firm grip that said he was alert and alive. Hours of riding seemed like minutes as she geared down into the Powerhouse Inn’s full parking lot. The engine purred beneath her until she turned off the ignition in front of the main office. Silence, yet her body vibrated like it was still on the road.
Miki pushed the glass door open. Ding! An electronic bell signaled to someone behind the front counter. A young man with fuzzy brown sideburns from ear to chin stood. He had a cell phone to his ear, and he murmured, “I’ve got company,” before clicking off and setting it down.
“Hey.” He nodded and glanced at the clock in the lobby. Straight up midnight. He fiddled with his pencil, bouncing the eraser end against the desk impatiently. The room temperature was cool, but the air was stale and smelled like the inside of a refrigerator.
“Uh…” Suddenly, Miki’s adrenaline took a nose dive, and her body went limp with fatigue. She shook her head, clearing it. “Do you work here?”
His thick brows went up as he held out his hands—I’m here aren’t I?—and with a lofty tone asked, “What do you want?”
The guy didn’t have a name badge or an official uniform. Didn’t hotel clerks used to wear polyester vests over white dress shirts? This guy had on a wrinkled black tee and had a bad case of bed-head. It was late, so maybe he’d been resting, although he looked bright-eyed with those green laser beams.
“We’re friends with Pinecone and, uh…a guy named Smiley.” Miki tried for a grin and looped arms with Will. Yeah, she had
a memory on her. Besides, who could forget a name like Smiley? “So when does she work—”
“You’re friends with Smiley?” The guy had a high pitched laugh. He looked past her shoulder to someone behind them. “You know these two?”
A chair creaked and Miki let go of Will’s arm to turn around. A good-lookin’ boy around their age with an obvious Viking heritage closed a magazine he’d been holding and rolled it into a tube. Wow. Spiky blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. He was startlingly gorgeous—
“No,” Smiley said, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and Will with no recognition. “No, I don’t.”
“You sure? I think I’ve seen you before.” Miki squinted, imagining him with his plaid shirt in her neighborhood. “Have you ever been to Overdale?”
“What do you want with Pinecone?” Smiley tapped the magazine tube against his faded denim leg.
“She works here, right? We were in the other day, and she was behind the counter. She offered us a discount and mentioned a password.”
“Pinecone’s helpful like that,” the desk clerk said, drawing the attention back to himself. He leaned his bony elbows on the lobby desk and smiled while his gaze roved over Miki’s body, openly checking her out.
Will straightened, pulling his shoulders out of a slouch. “Hey—”
“As luck would have it,” the hotel guy went on, “...she’s in tomorrow. If you stop by in the morning, I’ll let you know when she starts.” He wagged his brows at her.
Creep.
And pretty stingy with the details, too.
“Okay.” Miki nodded. “But we need a room for the night. Any chance the uh…Honeysuckle is available?”
“What a coincidence. It’s under construction. The only thing available is the Shooting Star, and it’s hourly. We don’t rent hourly to minors, unfortunately. But I’ll see you in the morning, right?” he asked.
“Uh, right. To see Pinecone,” Miki said slowly and nodded. He seemed a little too eager, which didn’t sit right in the pit of her stomach. She turned to Will. “Let’s go—you.” She’d almost called him by his name, but thankfully caught herself. She could be stingy with the details, too.
Smiley unfurled his magazine while he watched them without saying a word.
“Looking forward to it,” the furry hotel clerk said, but Miki didn’t look back. When Will pushed the door open, she kept close to his heels.
Once in the parking lot, he scanned the area, his hands jiggling the things he’d put in his hoodie pocket earlier. He looked tall under the stars and calm. “This place looks full tonight,” he said casually, like a young man who had it together without a worry in the world.
“I got a very weird vibe from that guy. Didn’t you?” Miki touched Will’s arm, stopping him.
“Yeah…I did.” He frowned. “From both of ‘em, but I think we should stick it out and see if Pinecone shows. At this point, she’s our only connection to finding my dad and Liam.”
“You’re right.” Miki bit her lip with a quick glance back over her shoulder.
“We can leave your bike in the corner of the parking lot over there by the tree. See? It’s hidden from the streetlight and besides, everyone’ll think it’s a guest’s. Then, we can sleep undercover in the thicket.” Will pointed to the tree line behind the hotel. “We’ll be out of sight and right where we need to be for a meet and greet. If there’s a whiff of trouble in the morning, we’re gone.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan.” She nodded.“ But what if I freeze to death?”
“I’ve got a thermal blanket.” Will patted the shoulder strap to his pack.
Miki studied the fringe of his black eyelashes and wished he’d be the one to take her hand, hold it, and say, Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Or how about, I’ll keep you warm, baby.
“I’m pretty hungry, too,” Miki murmured, shifting her gaze to the sparse stubble on his jaw, then away. She straddled her bike. “What if I starve to death?” she asked, turning the key. The engine purred loudly into the night, and she waited, hoping he’d tell her something memorable. Something like, Baby, I’m packing all the things you like.
He dropped on behind her and wrapped his good arm around her waist.
“I’ve got two granola bars and two beers. Snacks for champions. Any other problems I can solve for you?” He put his chin on her shoulder. “What’re you waiting for?”
She sighed. Always something more, it seemed.
* * *
Will felt like he was robbing a bank, looking over his shoulder, tip-toeing in the shadows, and crawling on all fours through bracken ferns and skunk cabbage. But the red osier dogwoods were a thick shrub and would be worth the trouble. No one would see them hanging out here for the night.
“It’s damp,” Miki grumbled, dropping her saddle bags on a pile of wet leaves. “I’m thirsty, I’m not digging this situation, and you better not tell me to ‘calm down,’ either.”
Will grinned, pulling his backpack open. “I was going to say relax…here.” He handed her a beer, and while she quenched her thirst, he dug in his hoodie pocket for his flashlight, and after clipping it to his sleeve, he got down to the serious business of setting up camp. He tugged and shuffled with the narrow tarp to get it unfolded and as close to the thicket as possible. Even the simplest thing turned out to be ten times harder with a casted arm and thumb.
“Why am I doing all the work while you’re standing around, chugging beer?” Will grunted as he smoothed out the corners.
“It looks like a one-man job,” she said and made another round of slurpy noises. “Mook makes a good brew.”
“But does it look like a one-armed one-man job? I’m sweating here.” He nudged her saddle bags under the brush with the toe of his boot and dropped his thermal blanket onto the tarp. With awkward movements, he unwrapped one of the granola bars, ready to devour it in three…two…one.
The tarp crinkled as he sprawled across it. This was no peach floral couch, no hotel mattress, and no foam camping mat. He was going to freeze his balls off. He looked up at Miki, standing above him, taking another swig. She wiped her mouth, and knelt beside him.
“Granola bar?” He held one out to her, but she waved it away.
“Thish beer’s…taking the edge off. I’m sho tired I could fall over.”
“Here.” He sat up and made room for her. What was going on? Why was she slurring? “Are you okay? Hey, drop the beer and lie down. You seem a little—”
“I can’t do anything with you, Will,” she mumbled in a low voice.
“Do what? Oh…hey, I’m not asking, okay? Miki?” He held up his good palm. It was too dark to see her eyes, and he didn’t want to rudely shine his flashlight in her face. He kept the beam down, but he could still see the outline of her. “I only meant it’s cold out, so—”
“Please, please…” She crawled to him and collapsed against his chest. “Pleash don’t be mad at me anymore.” She sighed, going limp in his arms.
“Miki.” Will patted her on the back with his cast and fingers. “Miki.” He rolled her off and down onto the tarp. When he jostled her, she was like a boneless chicken, legs bent and arms floppy. What the hell was wrong with her? “Miki can you hear me? Oh, my God.” He put his cheek down next to her mouth and nose and felt her warm, even breaths, like she was sleeping hard, dead to the world.
Sleeping? Passed out from half a beer? Home brew or not, it was seriously lightweight. But then again, Flossy had said, “Knock yourselves out.”
Wait a minute…
What did he mean? Then, he’d said something about a hotel incident and staying in camp. Have a beer and relax. Did those guys…would they…? Yes, they would.
Unbelievable!
“Miki? Man, I think you got roofied.” This time, Will did shine the light in her face. Her lids weren’t closed all the way, and it looked freaky, showing the bottom half of her brown eyes. He gently pushed them closed with the tip of his finger, so her lashes rested on her cheeks. No dried
eyeballs on his watch. He sat up to cover their bodies with the mere scrap of fabric called a thermal blanket, then shifted and lifted and pulled and broke another sweat trying to get Miki’s head to rest on his arm and her body tucked in close in a quasi-comfortable state.
“I can’t believe they’d give us spiked beer,” he murmured next to her hair. “These are the people we call family, you know? Our dads, our brothers, I mean our real brothers.”
Why did Miki want to hang out with the Hides of Hell? She said she wanted to be a mechanic but why? For herself? His guess…it was for President Daddy’s approval. They were thugs. Every last one of ‘em.
“I should have known something was up after the jab about babysitting. Why are those guys drugging us when they should be out there looking for my dad and Liam? What if I had drunk the other beer? We’d both be lying out here like cougar bait. It’s effed-up, man.
“Don’t worry, Miki. I’ll take care of you. Nothing bad’s going to happen to you, understand?” She wore her leather coat, but he draped his arm across her midriff anyway, hoping to add an extra layer of warmth. It felt good to be here like this, cuddled up with her, nice and snug. He could chat about anything he wanted to with Miki or with his mom or even to the stars, and it would only be a benefit. Let go of some of his negative energy. Talk to someone who might understand—but more importantly, who wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. Win-win.
Will searched the dark sky filled with stars and tried to pick out the end of the Little Dipper.
“Okay, so I’ve been wondering…” His voice broke the silence. “Why don’t you like me anymore? I liked it when you liked me because I liked you and…but then your meathead brother is always around like a junkyard dog, all hackles and fangs. I’m one who appreciates a good bout of loyalty, believe me. But c’mon, you know? How’s a guy supposed to get close when he has to worry about getting his face punched in at every turn?
“Then there’s the whole closet thing. Yeah, yeah, I yelled at you and told you to delete my number, but I never understood why you cried about it. We were hooking up in the closet, and I thought we were going somewhere. Then out of the blue, you told everyone I frickin’ farted and laughed. Why the grief? I felt stupid.”