Old Man's Ride(5)

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I stopped at the bank on my way home. My meager savings would be enough to cover my costs on the trip, so I wouldn't owe Wilhelm for more than the ride.

I must have been in shock - I packed a backpack as if I was going on vacation, quick and efficient. I wouldn't be able to carry much more than that anyway if we were taking his bike. Then I shot off emails to the few girls I considered sort-of friends. They'd think I was crazy. Maybe I was.

I should have been more worried about the end of the road. I should have felt worse about leaving my mom. Instead, all I could think about was hanging onto Wilhelm as we went speeding through the desert. My arms tight around his strong chest. My legs parted and aligned with his. The rumbling vibrations of his motorcycle.

When the bell rang, I grabbed my helmet and ran out without looking over my shoulder. Without saying goodbye. I still felt like this wasn't real, like I would be back in a few days after everyone had calmed down. It was the only way I could handle thinking about it. Otherwise, I might relent and let Bill - or Sam - have me.

But I was too stubborn for that.

My heart jumped when I saw him waiting astride his motorcycle. It was big, painted black and purple as was the style of the club, but he was a far more impressive sight than his bike. Cool, calm, wearing a black helmet and big black sunglasses and an unreadable expression.

"Packed light?" he asked. I showed him my purse and my backpack, and he nodded. "Hop on."

Just like that, I was leaving my whole life behind. My home, my only family. I felt a strange pull as I climbed onto the seat behind him, like I should stop, stay home. Like I wasn't meant to leave.

But it had to be. They pushed me out, gave me no choice. I sighed as I settled down and clipped my helmet's chin strap. Wilhelm said nothing. He revved his engine, and once my arms were locked around his waist, we took off.

Home's pull evaporated as we crossed into unfamiliar territory. Nondescript stretches of desert whizzed by, every mile the same as the last. We didn't turn from the highway until the sun began to set, and didn't find civilization until it was nearly dark.

He parked us in front of a tiny burger joint. The only other building nearby was the gas station, though we could see the town further up the road.

I slid from the back of the bike and nearly fell over. He grabbed my elbow before I could land on my ass.

"Careful. You aren't used to riding for long, you're bound to be pretty stiff."

"You don't say." I bent my knees one at a time, working some circulation back into my legs.

"No need to be sarcastic, honey."

My first instinct was to respond with more sarcasm, to let him know that I didn't respond to "honey" or "sugar" or anything like it. But something stopped me. The term of endearment that would normally set my teeth on edge instead filled me with warmth and put me at ease. Maybe it was the way he said it. I kept my sarcasm to myself and instead mumbled, "Sorry. Stressful day."

"Hungry?"

"Yeah."

He didn't release my elbow. Maybe he thought I was still going to fall over. I hated to admit it, but I enjoyed the contact, possessive as his grip was. I'd never been so far from home, so far from my mom, and those facts were just starting to settle in and churn my stomach. His touch kept me grounded.

We settled across from each other in a booth. The layout of the place was similar to the diner back home. Or maybe I just couldn’t get home off my mind and saw it in everything.

Wilhelm lit a cigarette. “Want one?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Good girl.” He took his sunglasses off and hooked them on the front of his shirt. “I heard about your little talk with Sam.”

Oh, fuck. Wilhelm Green. Sam Green. I’d nearly forgotten that Sam was his son. I could feel the color drain from my face. What the hell must he think? I tried to play it cool. “You did?”

He nodded. And that was all. He showed no sign of wanting to continue the conversation, but I was curious. “What did he say?”

“Doesn’t matter. Sam’s a liar.”

I didn’t know what to make of that. “Then why bring it up?”

He took a long drag on his cigarette, those light green eyes studying my face until I squirmed. He’d be even more handsome if he wasn’t so cranky. Finally, he said, “I know you think you’re a real tough girl. You don’t take shit from anyone, right?” I nodded. “Well, you’re wrong. So far all I’ve seen from you is petulance. You’re going to have to get a whole lot tougher if you’re gonna make a go of it alone.”

I gaped. His cocksure tone sent a shiver down my spine, though I boiled with indignation. “Are you serious?” He smirked. Is he just baiting me? I looked around and tried to keep my voice down. “My only options were to be a fuckhole for your son, or for the entire damn club. I’m not a piece of meat, dammit.”