by Nicole James
“She is,” Sasha cut in. “Do you sing, Rory?”
“A little,” he lied, not about to scare her off right out of the gate by telling her he was in Convicted Chrome.
“You two should sing a duet together.”
He frowned. “A duet?”
“I have the perfect one. You can have my turn.” Before either of them could stop her, she headed to the stage to talk to the guy running the show.
Rory called the bartender over. “What’ll you have?” he asked Rayne. “I’m buying.”
“Um…I guess a rum and coke.”
After their drinks were poured, Rory lifted his glass. “To road trips.”
Rayne gave him a suspicious smile. “How did you know we were on a road trip?”
He lifted his chin toward the stage. “Sasha told me.”
She nodded. “So, I take it you’ve met the girls.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sasha returned. “You two are up in about fifteen minutes.” Then she began herding the other two girls away. “We’re going to the ladies room. Be back soon.” She winked at Rory and nodded toward Rayne as they walked off.
“What was that wink about?” Rayne asked when they’d disappeared into the crowd.
He gave her a half smile. “I think she’s giving us time alone, and I think that was sign language for ‘don’t waste it, boy.’”
Her delicately arched brow shot up. “Oh, really. Am I being set up?”
“I think we both are.”
“I see.” She dipped her head down, smiling, and Rory noticed her cute dimples.
“I’m not complaining. You’re very attractive,” he said.
She turned her big brown eyes at him as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe his words.
He reached up and gave a little yank to one of her locks of hair. “And I think this color is gorgeous. What’s it called?”
“Lavender.”
“O-kay, now I feel like an idiot. I figured it had some cool name like Mystic Fields or something.”
She giggled, and the sound was beautiful to his ears. She tugged on his long hair. “You have some really beautiful hair, too, Rory. It’s a pretty color.”
“Thanks. I call it brown.”
“And what do you do? I’m guessing with long hair like this you don’t work in a bank.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Nope, not hardly. I work in a tattoo shop.”
“Really? You’re an artist?”
“Umm hmm.”
“Are you any good?”
“I like to think I am.”
“I suppose that’s a rude question, huh?”
“Not at all.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You have beautiful eyes.
She closed them. “What color are they?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “They’re brown.”
She opened them. “You pay attention. You wouldn’t believe how many guys get it wrong.”
“That’s because for them it was just a pickup line.”
“But not for you?”
“I really think they’re beautiful.” He smiled big. “And yes, I’d like to pick you up, too.”
“Ah, a man who tells the truth.”
“Most of the time.”
“Intriguing. They’re a vanishing species, you know.”
“So I’ve been told.
A voice came over the sound system. “Up next are Rory and Rayne.”
“I guess that’s us,” he said.
“Guess so. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want. My friends can be kind of pushy.”
“Ya think?”
She giggled. “I know.”
“I’m game if you are.”
“Okay.” She slid off her barstool, and Rory guided her to the stage with a hand at the small of her back.
He leaned down and said in her ear over the crowd noise. “I wonder what song she picked.”
“With Sasha, there’s no telling.”
They made their way on stage.
“Sorry, you’ll have to share the one mic,” the guy told them.
They watched the screen. Up popped Shallow, the duet made famous by Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper in A Star Is Born.
Rayne’s eyes shot to Rory, and she whispered. “Oh my God. I don’t have the pipes for this song.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. You don’t want to belt it out, then don’t.”
The song started, the words scrolled down the blue screen, and Rory began singing the quiet, andante verse. Rayne’s eyes widened, and the crowd began to cheer.
He finished his part and had to nudge her to sing hers. She began softly and then with more power. She was no Lady Gaga, but she gave it her best effort. He helped her, holding her eyes.
When they finished, the crowd roared and clapped.
She slapped her hand over her mouth and giggled up at him. He wrapped his arm around her and they moved off stage. “You did great, Rayne!”
“Oh my God! That was so much fun!”
As they moved through the crowd, a guy pushed forward. “Aren’t you Rory from Convicted Chrome?”
He panicked because for some reason he didn’t want Rayne to know he was in a band. He didn’t want her interest in him to be false because of who he was.
“No, man. Sorry.”
As he herded Rayne through the crowd, she asked, “What’s Convicted Chrome?”
“An auto-body shop in Grand Junction,” he lied.
“Oh.”
When they got back to the bar, the girls were cheering for them. “That was awesome! You guys rocked it!”
“Thanks.” Rory noticed people in the place were starting to stretch to get a second look at him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before someone else approached. He contemplated how he could get out of there and still not end the night with Rayne. He knew separating her from her pack was not going to be easy. Thankfully, Sasha came to his rescue.
“It’s getting late, chickees, and we’ve got to hit the road early tomorrow.”
“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. “You’re at the Birchwood, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll walk back with you.”
They ended up dashing through the rain to the motel, laughing like fools as they splashed through puddles. Soon they were standing under the second floor walkway in front of the girl’s room on the ground floor.
“This is us,” Rayne said. “Which room is yours?”
“I’m in 209.” He pointed up and over one door. “Next to the stairs.”
She nodded, glancing over at the stairwell. “Oh.”
“You want to come up and talk for a while?”
“Umm…”
“Go,” said Sasha. “I’ve got his license number.” She jerked her chin at his bike parked just inside the breezeway next to their room.
He looked to Rayne. “I’ll be a gentleman.”
“She don’t need a gentleman,” teased Carmen from the open room doorway.
“Carmen!” Rayne snapped, her cheeks turning pink.
“Come on.” Rory grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the staircase.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Carmen called after them in a singsong voice.
“There’s nothing you wouldn’t do,” Rayne called back.
“Exactly!”
Chapter Four
Rory keyed the door and let them in. He shook the rain off his head and looked over at Rayne. She dropped the denim shirt he’d given her to cover all that beautiful hair when they’d dashed out of the bar.
Both their T-shirts were damp. He bent to his duffle bag and pulled out a dry one, tossing it to her. “Here, you should go change out of that wet shirt before you catch cold.” He lifted his chin to the bathroom. “I don’t want you getting sick and ruining your road trip.”
“Thanks.” She held it up. “Brothers Ink Tattoo… Is that where you work?”
“Yeah.”
She moved off to the
bathroom. When she was gone, he put a dry shirt on. A few minutes later she returned and they sat on the bed together.
“So, you’re from Grand Junction?” she asked.
“Born and raised.”
“Tell me about yourself.”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. I work in the tattoo shop my brother started up.”
“That’s cool. Starting a business isn’t easy.”
“Well, he sort of had to; he needed it to support my brothers and me.”
“Support you?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Our parents died when Jameson was just eighteen and about to head off to college.”
“I’m so sorry. What happened to them?”
“Car accident. They were killed on impact. I still remember the night the officers came to the door. Anyway, there was some insurance money, but it wasn’t going to last long. So, Jameson gave up school and apprenticed with this guy in town, learned all he could about the business and tattooing. Eventually he was able to open the shop and that’s how he supported us.”
“There was no family to help?”
“Nah. An aunt on the east coast, but she was too old to raise four troublesome boys.”
She smiled. “Were you trouble?”
“I was pretty young when it happened, but my older brothers were a handful. Rebellious, angry about my parents dying, pissed at the world.”
“And you?”
“I missed my mom more than anything, and I hated that my brothers were always fighting, trying to work out who would do what chores. For a time it was a free-for-all at home with no parents running the show, but when the state threatened to split us all up into different foster homes, that’s when Jameson got serious about taking charge of the family. No way in hell was he going to let that happen. He fought and eventually won full custody of us all.”
“And now you all work at Brothers Ink?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’d like to see it sometime.”
He nodded, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’d like that. You should come out to Grand Junction. We’re not that far from Denver.” He rubbed a strand of her hair between his thumb and finger. “I can’t get over how pretty this hair color looks.”
She blushed.
He smiled. “Your turn. Spill.”
“Spill?”
“Yeah. I told you my sad story, now you tell me about you.”
“Umm, well, I grew up in Denver. Me, my dad, and my brother.”
“And your mom?”
“She left when we were little.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “I never really knew her.”
“So, what does your dad do?”
“He has a restaurant. A small place, but he enjoys it.”
“Do you work there?” Rory tried to imagine her as a waitress or cook.
She shook her head and curled her lip. “No.”
He chuckled. “Why not?”
“I’ve always helped my older brother with his business.”
“And what’s that?”
“He started a bike repair shop out of our garage, then moved it into an old building and started selling new bikes, parts and equipment.”
“When you say bikes…”
“Motorcycles.”
“Really? And you work there?”
“Yep. You got a problem with women working in the industry?”
He put his hands up in the surrender position. “No, ma’am, not at all. So, your brother—is he the one you sang the song for?”
“Yes. He died earlier this year.”
Rory nodded, knowing this was a fresh wound for her. “Sasha said something about that—that you’d lost your brother.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. When you were singing.”
“Oh.”
“What happened to him, if you don’t mind my asking?”
She toyed with a beaded bracelet on her wrist. “He got sick.”
“Sick?”
“ALS. It’s a disease that destroys your nerve cells. Have you heard of it?”
Rory nodded. “Yeah. But I don’t know a lot about it. How did his illness start?”
“My brother was always so full of life, so happy and a real go-getter. He was always on the move, a very active guy. And he was really fit and healthy, you know?”
Rory nodded.
“But then he just started losing his balance a lot, and he was tired all the time. It just wasn’t like him.” She shook her head. “Of course, getting him to go to a doctor and have it checked out was like pulling teeth. What is it about men and doctors?”
Rory shook his head.
“When he did finally go in, it took them a long time and a zillion tests before they finally were able to diagnose it. It was such a roller coaster. We wanted them to find out what was wrong, but then when they finally did, it was the worst possible outcome. ALS is terminal—a death sentence. No one survives…yes a patient can live three, five, maybe even ten years, but it always wins.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“There wasn’t anything anyone could do, and he had to face that. It was heartbreaking watching him come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to live much longer. And the disease progressed quickly. Soon he was in a wheelchair, and then months later he was bedridden with breathing treatments.”
Rory put his arm around her. “It must have been awful for you.”
She nodded. “I did most of his care, and it was exhausting and so stressful, but the worst part was watching him deteriorate. Eventually, he asked me…”
When she paused, he prodded, “What?”
She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear this. I don’t know why I’m telling you.”
“Because you need to talk about it. It’s okay. I do want to hear it. All of it.” He paused. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want.”
She took in a shaky breath and blew it out slowly. “It’s hard to say.”
He rubbed her back and squeezed her shoulder, wanting so badly to comfort her but not sure how.
“He told me he didn’t want to live that way. He knew what was coming, that eventually he wouldn’t be able to feed himself or even breath on his own, and he didn’t want that. He said he wanted to go out on his terms. And…he asked me to help him.”
“Help him end it?”
She rubbed her palms up and down her thighs. “He wanted me to get him some drugs he could take that would cause him to fall asleep and…. never wake up.”
“I see.”
“He was in pain and so depressed,” she defended. She looked up at him, imploring him to understand.
“I can’t say I wouldn’t want the same thing, Rayne.”
“I wouldn’t want to live like that; no one should have to live like that. It isn’t even living,” she whispered.
Rory wasn’t sure what to say to her. This story was so much more heartbreaking than his. “So you helped him?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t. I didn’t even know how or where to get the drugs he’d need.”
“What happened?”
“He got worse. I knew if he didn’t get the pills soon, he wouldn’t be able to swallow them. He was very close to needing to be put on a feeding tube—something I knew he didn’t want.”
“What did you do?”
“One day, Daniel asked to see his friend Charlie.”
“And?”
“They talked privately. When Charlie came out of the room he had tears in his eyes. He left and came back the next morning with some really strong sleeping pills and a bottle of Jack… He went in and did a couple shots with Daniel, but in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to hand the pills to him. So Charlie gave them to me.”
“And you did it?”
She nodded, tears running down her face.
“And he took them, by his own hand?”
> “Yes.”
“Was there any investigation?”
She shook her head. “The doctor thought his heart just gave out. They never did an autopsy. I think he may have been suspicious, but he never said anything. I think he hated the fact that he couldn’t help Daniel.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We buried him in May, when the flowers were just starting to bloom and riding season was really starting up. It was always Daniel’s favorite time of year.”
“You must miss him terribly.”
“I do. So much.”
“And now you run his shop?”
“He left it to me in a will I didn’t even know he’d made. That shop means everything to me. I don’t really even know what I’m doing, but I try and I have Charlie and the boys. They help immensely.”
“The boys?”
“His friends and the shop employees.”
“I see. And they’re handling things so you can take this road trip.”
“Yes. They said I needed it.”
“I’m sure you do after caring for your brother for so long. So, tell me about this road trip of yours.” Rory tried to brighten the mood.
“We’re going to a chick’s moto-event. Women only, no men allowed.”
“Interesting. Where in California is it?”
“A campground near Joshua Tree.”
“That’s a long way. What route are you taking?”
“I40 through Grand Junction, then I15 to Vegas, then we’ll drop down through the Mohave National preserve. We’ll even hit a small piece of Route 66 between there and Joshua Tree.”
“That sounds amazing. Hell, I want to go.”
“Sorry….” she began, and they both said in unison, “No boys allowed.”
“Right.” He chuckled.
“It’ll be a week of motorcycles, sisterhood, and independence.”
“I’m glad you get to go. It’ll be good for you after the year you’ve had.”
“I think so, too.”
Lightning flashed and thunder cracked almost on top of it. They both jumped out of reflex.
“Christ, that was close,” Rory said, and they started laughing. The rain became a downpour, drumming on the roof. He moved to the window and peeked out the curtain. “Damn, I’m glad we’ve got our bikes in that breezeway.”
“I hope it clears by tomorrow. Maybe we should check the weather.”
“Yeah, right.” He moved to the dresser and picked up the remote, flicking on the TV. After a moment, he found the weather station with local radar. “Looks like it’s moving pretty quickly.”
