Cocky Biker(35)

“How?”

“None of your business, Jett.”

“Do you help or hurt?”

“What?”

He pushes off the wall, hard, and walks toward me, unzipping his fly. I blink at him, wondering what the fuck he’s doing. He yanks down the front of his pants just low enough so I can read the tattoo again.

I lift my eyes to lock with his. “Why are you showing me that now?”

“Tear ‘em down to stand ‘em up. That’s what we do. We ride around this fuckin’ country and leave it better than we found it. We do it rough, because some people need to have their face shoved into the dirt before they can stand up on their own. But when we ride away, we’ve changed lives.”

I pull my knees up and hug myself, soaking it in. I didn’t know that’s what the tat meant. I mean, I kinda grasped the gist when I read it, but thought it was just something cool to have on your body. Like when people tattoo Japanese words about courage into their skin, when they’re not Asian.

“Okay. What do you want me to do with this piece of information?” I ask him.

He zips and buttons his pants up, scowling at me. “When you’re out there – that place you want to be alone in – do you hurt or help?”

The truth is I do both, but mostly hurt.

I shout right in his face, “I came back here to free those women!” Totally flustered at how wrong it felt to yell at him, I stammer, “I didn’t know they were pregnant, but I knew they were in a hell they couldn’t get out of on their own!”

Jett paces away in balled up rage. “I know about the blankets,” he growls over his shoulder. “I know what you stole my credit card for.”

“Then why are you standing there accusing me of being a bad person!”

“I’M SAYING YOU’RE A GOOD PERSON!” He hits the wall, then storms at me. “I’M SAYING, JOIN US!”

“Jett.” My shoulders soften with my voice. “I don’t know how to love you.”

I watch his nostrils flare and his eyes widen, stunned speechless. He stares at me like he wants to make me understand something, but doesn’t know the way. Fiercely rubbing his beard, he walks to the shitty bed he’s been sleeping on for over three months and sits down on it, laying his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Sunshine,” he groans and lifts his head to look at me with eyes that tear me up inside. “Let me teach you.”

The silence that follows kills us both.

He lays his head in his hands again and waits for me to say something.

Anything.

I just can’t.

Finally after what feels like weeks, Jett rasps, the whole time staring at the floor. “Carmen needs someone with her on that train. Tonk wants her with family when that baby comes. If you don’t want to be with me, I understand. I won’t force you, Sunshine.” He pauses and closes his eyes for a second. “But come with us as far as Louisiana. Then you can go. Ride that train with the girl. She trusts you. I trust you. And Tonk trusts you. Make sure she doesn’t pop, and if she does, that she’s not alone until the train’s next stop.”

He meets my eyes, waiting for my answer.

I owe him my life. I’m terrified of getting close to him, but I would be a real piece of shit if I said no. I want to do it. I want to help Carmen, and I want that baby to have a good start in life, because I sure didn’t have one.

So I don’t even hesitate. “Okay, Jett. I’ll do that for you.”

He nods with a beaten-down resolve, rises up and walks to the dresser where his jacket sits waiting. He stares at it before putting it on, like he’s seeing a memory. “Tonk and I will ride by the train, so if anything happens we’re there and ready. We’ll pick a place to stop for a night because we can’t make that distance without sleep.” Pulling out his keys, he mutters on his way out, “I’m goin’ for a ride. Need to clear my head.”

Without looking back, he vanishes.

Numbly I stare after him, wishing I was a better woman.





Jett





At Alpine Texas, Tonk and I wait for the train to slow to a complete stop. More people de-board than we expected since this desert town in the western tip of Texas ain’t at all that big.

Tonk’s locked on finding his Carmen, standing by me like he’s got crabs on his balls. “Where are they?”

“They’ll be here.”

“What if somethin’ happened?”

“Carmen has your phone.”

“Right,” he grumbles, not sold.

Through a sea of much older faces we see slivers of two of the loveliest, olive skin Latinas to ever walk the planet. I grit my teeth and shove my hands in my jeans pockets. This is gonna suck.