by Ethan Egorov
As soon as I walk inside, the noises stop for about three seconds before going on. A few guys at the pool table, more at the dart board and shuffle board, two at the bar. Spencer is at the bar cutting lemons and I’m surprised to see Jeannine here too. I forgot, it’s the start of the summer and she’s in town.
“What’s up Spin, and guest.” Spencer shouts to us as we walk in.
I glance down at Chantal, who is pressed against my side up until I let her go, take a seat at the bar with her.
“This is Chantal.” I tell him, ignoring the side eye he gives me. She greets him and they forgo shaking hands from the lemons all over his.
“You went to the bank and came back with an unusual withdrawal, forgive me for staring.” Spencer laughs. I can’t take his jokes most of the time but that is a funny one, and very true. Even Chantal giggles.
“Right. Get my friend here a drink, she needs it.” I tell Spencer.
“What do you like?” I ask Chantal, looking down at her.
“Anything.” She purses her lips for a second and then relaxes them.
I smirk at her and look away quickly, so it isn’t obvious.
“You don’t usually day drink, do you?” I turn and ask her when Spencer walks away.
She shakes her head, “no.” Her legs are crossed, and the tan looks even better under the dim lights, like it’s fresh. I don’t come around that type of pampering here, so it’s clear that it isn’t natural but on her, it seems to look that way. My eyes trail down her exposed skin, the swell of her breasts in the dress she has on. And I notice the little shiver she has too and remember it’s pretty cold in here unless it’s packed.
“You cold?” I start shrugging my jacket off before she even answers, which is just a half nod.
“Thank you.” She says.
Jeannine comes up to us from around the bar.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming in.” I hug her briefly, “College looks good on you.” I tell her when she pulls away. She grins at me, looking a lot like her dad in that moment.
“Well my dad isn’t around to make an announcement, but here I am.” She laughs.
I nod once, “This is Chantal, a friend of mine.” I say. It’s a lot easier than explaining how she made a scene at the bank and I felt inherently bad for her for some reason.
“Hi, I’m Jeannine.” They shake hands and it’s the first time I have seen Chantal actually smile.
“Nice to meet you.” I watch Chantal and her interact and realize she isn’t shy, but its just me that she is cautious around. Which makes sense, I’m a strange guy to her, women link up easier.
“I’m like an outcast around here, it’s nice to see a new face. Are you here for long?” Jeannine asks her, and even I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t think that Chantal does either.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“And you’re not an outcast, since Tank isn’t around anymore,” I say to Jeannine. She just rolls her eyes at me and shrugs.
“Whatever Spin, I’m on my way out. Nice to meet you though.”
She walks out and my eyes lock with Chantal’s for a second as I turn back around. Spencer drops a fruity looking drink in front of her and my choice of beer.
“Thank you,” she takes a small sip that turns into a bigger one. “It’s good.” She says as if in shock.
“My girlfriend’s favorite drink, never fails.” Spencer replies with a grin. I glance at him and he has questions in his eyes, but I ignore him.
Everyone around here has stopped treating him like just a prospect, he’s one of us now. But I don’t even know this well enough to explain it to anyone besides myself, even that is a hit or miss. He walks off to the other end of the bar, though, and I’m more or less alone with her for the time being. I take a few swigs of my beer and calm myself first.
“So, I take it you’re not from around here.” I half turn on the seat so I can face her.
My jacket swallows up her small frame, the blonde locks of her hair fall in loose waves over the black leather. I draw my eyes back up to her face and look in her soft blue eyes, she looks lost but not in the real sense, I wish I knew why I wanted to know so badly. She stares back at me but then blinks away the heated gaze we were in.
“No, I’m not. I didn’t plan on coming here until today actually. Or this morning rather.” She pushes away her empty glass, I guess she needed the alcohol more than I thought.
“You don’t look like you planned for a road trip anyway.” I chuckle. She half smiles but it’s short lived.
“No, I hadn’t. I’ve never even heard of this place before.”
“Yikes, I didn’t know we were so microscopic.”
“I mean—it’s just a small town, I guess.” She drops her shoulders, turned to face me fully now. I lean my arm on the bar and press forward, but not all that much.
“Yeah, we are. You from somewhere south? You’ve got a cute accent you know.” I tell her. I hadn’t meant to actually say cute out loud but there is nothing I can do about it now.
Her cheeks heat at the suggestion, I see the blush form on the high part under the gloss of her makeup. It reminds me of the sparkly shit Chelsea used to wear, it would get all over my clothes every time she wore it.
“I’m from Texas originally but my dad moved us to Iowa after—a few years ago.” She stops from saying something else and I wonder why, but don’t add to it.
“Hm, so your dad, does he know you’re traipsing across town and shouting in banks?” I ask, smiling softly. She looks at me and stares hard against my eyes, not quite looking at me.
She clears her throat, “Not exactly. Well, he does but he doesn’t care. I don’t really want to talk about it.” She says.
I nod in understanding and leave the topic alone, too heavy for a first conversation I assume. But it is easy enough to tell that she doesn’t get along with her dad, clearly. For some reason that makes her tense up like this.
“So, um… I assume you don’t have a place to go, considering your bank account is empty and you don’t have a luggage. I mean, I don’t want to make any assumptions but—”
“Why did you help me?” She interjects.
“What?” I ask.
“Why are you doing this? Taking me here, asking all these questions. I mean what’s in it for you?” She blinks but her expression holds firm, and I realize she has a different side to her besides the lost and impressionable look. She has me buckled over in a heartbeat.
“Um…nothing? I don’t want something in return, if that’s what you think. I can’t just be a nice guy?” I laugh once and lean back in the seat. Her gaze shifts over me, as if saying my appearance suggests otherwise. I mean it probably does.
“Nice guys don’t really exist in my world.” She murmurs.
“Oh. Well, small town mentality, I guess. And I felt bad for you. But I’m still a man after all, you’re easy on the eyes and you don’t look like you belong here, so it wouldn’t sit well with me if I just left you alone.” I explain. I tried to tell her she’s damn beautiful without creeping her out, making her run away. Nowhere she can really go but that’s beside the point.
“I guess I should be grateful then. But you don’t have to. I can figure something out.”
“Something that’s free?” I chuckle.
She smiles halfway and I enjoy seeing it, the way it lights up her eyes a little bit.
“I guess not. But you’re still a stranger, I mean I don’t know anything about you. Except your weird nickname and this… place.” She looks around to prove her point, and I guess the town bar and motorcycle look aren’t very welcoming but, at the same time, it feels like home for me.
Not that I want it to be for her too, but like I said, if she was just out there alone and screaming at people again, I would be worried. I wouldn’t be able to shake the feeling of her being in trouble. It’s not my job to save her, to help her, but I’ve made it out to be that way.
“Okay. You want to get to know me.
Ask me whatever you want, I’m an open book.” I wave my hand in invitation and she smirks, it’s a nice look on her and brings out this cute dimple in her left cheek. I lick my lips and force myself to focus, without looking creepy.
I see it in her when she gives up the cautious tirade, maybe she just finds it easy to be comfortable around me too. Her eyes soften as she looks at me and leans back in her seat with her legs crossed, almost brushing mine. All I want to do is slide my hand up that smooth skin of hers, but I refrain, stuffing my hands in my pockets instead. Sitting here, talking to her… it’s putting a bunch of ideas in my head. And hoping that maybe she has some of the same ones.
“Why do they call you Spin?”
4
Chantal
I can feel every inch of his body against mine and I don’t even know him.
This Logan guy is nothing like what I am used to. He’s not in a three-thousand-dollar suit, his voice doesn’t sound coached and laced with arrogance—the bad kind. He is a bit cocky, maybe self-assured, but with a face and body like his, this bike—I can allow it.
As much as my thighs love the contrast of his muscled ones against them, my breasts against hard muscles on his back, and my hands on the hardest pair of abs that have ever existed—it feels too familiar. It hasn’t even been an hour since I have met him and yet I don’t want to move from this position. I feel safe, I feel like all the bad shit happening has just gone away.
Until we pull up to a place, I have never seen anything like before, laced with bikes and… danger. I feel it as soon as he slows to a stop. My eyes were closed the whole way, all I could feel were the shifts in the road and the way his body tensed at every turn. His muscles coiling, his breathing shifting higher. Mine would match any time it did. And the only thing keeping me from freaking out about this whole situation is imagining myself with him, no clothing in the way and pressed up against him. It is not the best thing to be doing with a stranger, but he doesn’t feel like it. Not completely anyway.
Maybe it is just because he is being nice. And people don’t really do things for me unless they are my father’s paid help, I suspect a proposition might be coming but he doesn’t give off that vibe either. I don’t know what to do, except sit against him and imagine… whatever it is that I want.
We come to a complete stop and my thighs are sore as I climb off the bike, I hadn’t realized how much it took out of me to hang on. Very tightly I might add. The sun beats down on us, and I glance around at the whole compound. One main building of old, faded red brick. And another farther off with an open garage door and a few bikes and old truck inside, I guess like a mechanic place.
It’s the one other guy in the garage that makes me think this is not one of those creepy places. But I don’t know, the whole leather jacket and bike thing make it seem like a cult. With the amount of tv I watch too, I think of those small-town bike clubs where men hang around and drink all day. I can only hope this isn’t it.
“Don’t worry, this isn’t where I kill you.” Logan says in his deep voice, coupled with a chuckle.
He must have seen all the apprehension on my face as I look around. I’m standing by his bike and feel the heat of the dead exhaust on my legs, I feel like it is melting my tan away. I know that’s kind of ridiculous, but it still feels that way. The helmet on my head is heavy but it’s like my fingers don’t work when I try to move them.
“This is the place I go when I want to scream in the middle of a bank, when my life is falling apart. Am I close to what you’re going through?” His face curls up in a smirk, his lips are full and soft pink, my vapid friends would call them kissable, and they very much are. What I barely notice, is how close he comes when he takes a few steps.
But I do notice when his fingertips brush mine, they’re rough and far from soft yet they feel like feathers on me. And warm, almost too hot. I pull my hand away and freeze up at looking in his eyes, but then my body just relaxes at him being spot on.
“Yeah. Pretty close.” I release a heavy breath. My chest stops constricting and each breath comes easier. This stops feeling like a strange place, and more one I have never been before but want to see.
“Good then. The guys here are pretty nice, just ignore the weird looks, they don’t mean any harm. But,” he pauses, and all my easy breaths are gone, replaced by tight ones that hit the width of his arm over my shoulders, weighing down on me. “I’m gonna walk in with you like this, okay?”
My breath hitches, and I glance up my lashes at him. He has the same dazed look on his face, looking down at me. Not quite looking down my dress but almost like he wants to, and it heats me up inside to the point where all I can do is agree. Once I nod, his arm leaves me, and I fiddle with the helmet until I get it off.
“Is this a motorcycle club, like in the movies?” I ask him. He stows the helmet away and turns back to me.
“Something like that.” There is a lace of humor in his voice but not like he is joking. More like he is trying to downplay the whole thing.
If it is one of those clubs, I can only imagine what waits on the other side of the door. Him walking in with his arm around me makes sense now. They can be territorial, possessive. And if a woman seems off limits they can try and hit on her too. I thought that would only be at night, it probably is, but I don’t want to remind him of that as we walk in.
He lays his arm across my shoulders again and my body heats up the same time it relaxes. The left side of me brushes against him as he walks, he is definitely built well and capable, nothing like the mushy, only run on the golf course type of guys I am used to. And it feels good.
Inside, there are a few guys scattered in the place, a pool table area and dart board, it looks like a nice hangout spot. They all have the same hard looks on their faces, the tattoos too. I don’t know if Logan has them with his long sleeves on, but I suspect that he might. This close to him, I can inhale the scent that’s been swarming around me and I haven’t been able to stop. Sharp cologne, like sandalwood, and the raw nature of trees and wind, brushing across him. It is almost comforting.
Logan starts leading us over to the bar area, where a younger guy more around my age is cutting lemons. The soft rock music playing is nothing I’ve ever heard before either.
“What’s up Spin, and guest.” The young guy says.
Logan glances down at me before we separate and take a seat at the bar. The high wooden chairs are cold against my bare skin, I cross my legs and fight the chill, the air conditioning in here is pretty brutal too.
“This is Chantal.” Logan says.
“You went to the bank and came back with an unusual withdrawal, forgive me for staring.” The guy says, and I even laugh a bit too. I don’t think he told me his name, or maybe I wasn’t listening in the first place.
“Right. Get my friend here a drink, she needs it.” Logan says.
“What do you like?” He asks me.
“Anything.” I say without thinking. What I like is an amaretto sour, but I don’t see any here. It seems like a beer and vodka type of place.
He smirks, and it’s the sexiest one I have ever seen before he looks away. It becomes obvious that he isn’t trying to scare me away or be too forward. He’s… a gentleman. I realize that’s what makes all this so easy for me.
“You don’t usually day drink, do you?” Logan turns to me in the seat, it creaks like my heart beat and I blink up at him.
I shake my head quickly, “No.” At least I don’t think day drinking includes mimosas… maybe. Otherwise, I definitely don’t.
Not like this. And I never needed to until today.
“You cold?” Logan notices the next shiver I make. I don’t want to seem high maintenance; he is already being so nice to me. But he is observant, and I can’t change that, he shrugs off his jacket and lays it across my shoulders. His scent swarms me and I have to actively try not to inhale it too obviously. The leather is heavy, thick, I am warm immediately.
“Thank you.” I breathe.
>
A young woman, about my age, comes striding across the bar at Logan. I don’t even have the thought that she is an ex or something like that—the way she smiles at him like he is family. It reminds me of how I am with my uncle, I think of calling him for help but don’t want to make this a family affair. Anyway, she has pretty brown curly hair and a perky appearance, I think she is here with the other guy.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming in.” Logan turns and laughs, hugging her “College looks good on you.” He adds. I watch as they interact and don’t feel like an outsider at all.
“Well my dad isn’t around to make an announcement, but here I am.” Her laugh is soft, a bit more than a giggle. I don’t know why that statement reminds me of my own father.
Logan adds, “This is Chantal, a friend of mine.” He says. It rolls off his tongue like it’s easy to say, like we have been friends for years.
“Hi, I’m Jeannine.” I shake her hand and smile, something about the honesty in her eyes makes me smile more than I even smile with my friends.
“Nice to meet you.” I tell her.
“I’m like an outcast around here, it’s nice to see a new face. Are you here for long?” She asks me, and I start to reply before I think. I almost want to say absolutely not but that would be a lie.
“I’m not sure yet.” I find that an easier response.
“And you’re not an outcast, since Tank isn’t around anymore,” Logan adds, and I guess it’s another one of the weird nick names they have.
“Whatever Spin, I’m on my way out. Nice to meet you though.” She says.
I wonder what the hell that means, ‘Spin,’ why would they call him that? He doesn’t seem like a hockey player or something that involves spinning. Soon after, the bartender hands me a pink, fruity looking drink and a beer to Logan. I smell the sweetness of it immediately and take a cautious sip to test it out and find that it’s actually really good.
“Thank you, It’s good.” I tell him.