A look passed between the ladies, something much deeper than shoes, clothes, or even who could have the prettiest grandchildren. A silent battle I wasn’t certain anyone would ever win.
“Craven, it would appear your beautiful wife here is growing weary of trying to decide between the gray and the purple duster jacket. It’s always been Dean’s practice to insist I purchase both and give the one I decided I don’t particularly look my best into someone who would appreciate it.” Where Priscilla may never win against Emmagene, she definitely had this fella’s number.
“Dean is a smart man who knows how to keep his wife happy. Something he no doubt has passed down to his sons.” Even I could feel the suction from the kiss to Priscilla’s ass. Evidently the upper crust wasn’t excluded from peer pressure either, since she pretty much guilted him into spending money.
“Make sure you visit the other booths before the run begins.” Priscilla added. There was a satisfied smile on her face as we watched the couple walk out of the tent, now two bags heavier and Craven’s credit card still smoking.
“Hello, Sam, I’m glad you could make this.” She looked back at the man with the beard.
“Awe, Mrs. Morgan. I wouldn’t dream of missing a chance to pay my respects to your Daddy. It was mighty nice of you to let us sell our stuff out here, too.”
Priscilla reached her hand out, taking Sam’s wrinkled one in hers. “Daddy would have loved this, everyone jumping in to help one another.”
Sam and Priscilla spoke of his new grandbaby and how his wife wanted to be here, but her daughter was still recovering from the delivery. They discussed how the new tow truck he had purchased was going to arrive in a little while. He asked how the boys were doing, how he heard from a few of his girls he checked on Chase was home from the service.
“Oh my word!” Priscilla yelped, her hand clutching the center of her chest. “Chase is looking everywhere for you, Audrey. He sent me over here to ask around.” Priscilla made Sam swear he would be over for dinner with his lovely wife as soon as she was back in town. “And bring pictures of the baby with you, my boys still haven’t figured out how to make me a granny yet.”
Priscilla grabbed my arm, tucking it around hers as we walked in a fast pace back to the front of the house. “The couple in the tent, Craven and Emmagene Callahan, she’s his third wife in ten years. Before she wore his ring and started spending his money, she worked as a shampoo girl in the salon my momma went to back in the day.” Priscilla gossiped as she waved to vendors and guests alike. “He sniffed around our front door back before I set eyes on Dean, but my Daddy warned me he was a scoundrel.” She whispered the last as if it were a dirty word. “Now he pays for a wife, a girlfriend he keeps and thinks Emmagene doesn’t know about, and two ex-wives who refuse to remarry until the man is dead and buried.”
Nearly everyone we passed wished her a good morning and wanted to stop to have a conversation. Just as we left Bertie, who was handing out coupons for her new hair salon, a strong male voice called out my name. Chase had changed from his Marine muscle shirt to the form fitting company logo shirt. The black contrasted with his tan skin and blue eyes, making them seem to pop off his face.
“Hey, Sweetness. Where’d you run off to?” I could have been honest and told him I wanted to attempt to pay for the boots myself, thus regaining the pride I once felt in providing for myself. I could have, but I didn’t.
“She was down there talking with Sam, shining her smile and getting Craven Callahan to spend money he doesn’t have.”
At the mention of Craven’s name, Dean leaned over as if the magic word had been spoken. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve questioned if Dean had a touch of jealousy. It was cute really; after all those years of marriage, he still had a burr in his craw for his wife’s ex-admirers.
“You know Sam is a bit of a hero himself.” Priscilla swiftly changed the subject. “He took a bad situation and made a world of good out of it.” Pulling at my shoulder, turning me back to face the driveway, which was lined on both sides by canopy tents. “All of the venders you see here, including the minister who will give the blessing, is in one way or another recovering from drugs or alcohol. The men who are driving the tow truck Sam mentioned, have recently spent time in the state prison. Sam gets them employment at various businesses. He was once a prison guard, but a bad decision cost him his job and nearly his wife and children.”
The tow truck had pulled in behind a growing row of bikes. Three men in safety gear smoked cigarettes in a small circle around the passenger side of the truck. “Is Dean okay with them being here? I mean the ex-cons?”
Chase wrapped an arm around me, “Who do you think represented them in court?”
“Quick, Chase, check her for an engagement ring. You know how Craven collects beautiful women, filling their heads with dreams of a jet setting life.” Dylan picks up my left hand, turning it several times in fun.
A loud voice behind me beckoned my attention; the crowd had grown into a sea of leather and denim. Sam stood on the back of another truck, an older model with rust along the edges and character in its aged design.
“On behalf of the Morgan family, without whom most of us probably wouldn’t be standing here, I’d like to welcome you. Forrest Van Buren was a man of honor and respect, a friend and sounding board. When needed, he could be the arms to provide comfort or the discipline you needed when you crossed him. Most of us still carry his words of wisdom and use them when we need to feel him surrounding us. I spoke with Priscilla earlier this mornin’, she and I agreed her Daddy would have loved this, all of his friends and family coming together to do something good for the community. The proceeds from today’s ride will help to rebuild the children’s park, one destroyed by the drug dealers who took it over a few years ago.”
Sam then asked everyone to bow their heads so he could say a prayer of safe travel. As my head was about to lower, I caught sight of a group of five girls, each dressed in a different bikini. The girl closest to me, a redhead with thick hair and a tattoo covering her entire left side, winked at the men behind me. I suspected Chase was the intended recipient. He must have looked at her as she winked and tossed a kiss in his direction. Sam finished his prayer, reminding everyone of all the safety measures the organizers had implemented. “See everyone at the end.”
People scattered like ants, wishing each other a good ride and collecting their partners. Miss Half Naked Red Head sat on the back of a huge bike, a much older man in the driver’s seat. The fruity smell of sunscreen floated in my direction, as the redhead’s friend applied the lotion to her chest, even taking several swipes over her cloth-covered nipple.
“I forgot to ask you if you’ve ever ridden?” Chase rounded on me, placing his back to the girls, hands on his hips and his eyes wide and bright. “It’s not a big deal, I can take it slow until you get a feel for it.” He was nodding toward the massive bike parked beside his truck. Normally, Chase rode in his massive truck or an incredibly sexy sport bike, its yellow paint reminding me of a confident man, one not fazed by anything.
“Actually, I have.” One of my neighbors growing up was a tattoo covered, single guy. Most of the older residents talked bad about him until they needed his help. When the other kids excluded me from riding bikes with them or playing in each other’s yards, he would encourage me to sit beside him and do little stuff to his bike or car. He shared how he had grown up much as I was, without many friends. He taught me how to start a bike and how to ride behind someone. When he felt comfortable, he came over to the house and asked my parents if he could take me for short rides. The boys in the neighborhood wanted to join us, but he told them no, saying only cool chicks like me could ride on his bike. One rainy afternoon, we sat on his porch and he told me if I studied really hard, he would take me on a cross-country trip for graduation. Right before Thanksgiving that year, he was killed in a car accident when a drunk driver crossed the median. “It’s been a few years, but I remember the rules.”
/> I hadn’t noticed it before, but along the fence line waited several news vans. A number of reporters were interviewing riders and their partners. At the far end of the property, I noticed Jackson speaking with one of the female reporters, looking slightly out of place in his suit and tie. I had assumed with his recent purchase, he would be among the riders. Maybe he was going to shake up the motorcycle world by riding in a suit, giving the persona a sexy new edge. “Wow, word certainly got around, didn’t it?”
Chase looked over his shoulder, examined the organized chaos behind him, “Granddaddy never met a stranger.” I’d heard the phrase at least a million times, until now I had a rough understanding. “Over five hundred bikes have registered and paid the fee, all to give him the respect he earned.” Chase’s honest words touched me deep inside, my fingers going to the pendant on my neck, pinching it between my thumb and index finger. As Chase turned back around, he caught sight of my necklace. His attention was centered on the jewelry as his hand reached up, taking the tiny set of wings out of my fingers.
“Where did you get this?” The tone of his voice was almost stunned, as if seeing a part of his past.
I wasn’t ashamed of the poverty I’d endured. Long ago I came to understand as a child with no choices or avenues to change our surroundings, and we are at the mercy of our parents to provide well for us. For whatever reason, mine failed in the ability to provide much more than a place to sleep and at least one meal a day. “The generous ladies at one of the local churches; they kept me from missing the joy of Christmas when I was younger. This necklace was one of the last gifts I got from them. While it isn’t much, it holds so much for me.”
Chase hadn’t looked away from his fingers, which still held the wings. “Saint Patrick’s?” Just as if delivered by the angels themselves, his words were soft and reverent.
“Yes, how did you know?” I tugged the necklace out of his hands, feeling a chill creeping up my spine.
He rapidly blinked his eyes and adjusted his posture. I wondered briefly where his mind had drifted, the light in his eye indicated it was at least somewhere pleasant. With a growing smile he responded, “That is a conversation which will include dinner and possibly a bottle of wine.”
Reaching out, he tucked my hand in his. “C’mon, we need to get ready to go.” Chase led me toward the side of his truck, where four matching travel bikes were lined up next to one another. I’ve seen pictures of this type of bike, advertising the fun of long travel and all the excitement it brings.
“Where is your bike?” I questioned as he picked up one of the helmets resting on the seat.
“In the garage. While it would thrill me to no end to have you wrapped around me, the five hours it will take to reach the hotel in Florida would not be nice to you or your backside.” Chase wiggled his eyebrows as he handed me a helmet. “Here is your brain bucket, we are all linked by Bluetooth inside.” He pointed to the tiny blue light on the side of the shield. “If you get sick of listening to Dylan’s mouth, you can mute the conversation by pressing this button.” He demonstrated by pressing the white oval button on the outside of the helmet. “If you need to make a phone call, press this button. And if you want to listen to music, press this button.” Showing me the correlating buttons with his finger.
Chase waited patiently as I took the white jacket from the back of the bike, sliding my arms through the holes and zipping up the leather front. It may be hot as the devil’s backside out here, but if something happened to us, I wanted to be protected. Unlike the girls whooping and hollering behind us, I had a reason to live.
A loud horn sounded and hundreds of motorcycles roared to life. Chase lifted his right leg, straddling the massive beast as if he was getting on a Brahma bull instead of a Harley. He extended his gloved hand out to me, helping me to repeat his actions. The vibration, like a constant pulse under my ass, as he pressed a few buttons and the beast roared to life.
“Everybody good?” Austin’s voice echoed in my helmet. Chase tapped my thigh, leaned back slightly, and then released the kickstand. Confirmation sounded from everyone as Dean took the lead, Priscilla clicking away on her phone behind him. Two sets of motorcycle cops met us at the end of the drive, their blue lights flashing. It was my understanding we would have a police escort all the way to our final destination.
Bikes raced down the city streets, ignoring the traffic lights as they changed in their cycler coarse. Bystanders waved American flags and watched with wide and excited eyes as the two-wheeled convoy made its journey through town. Crossing the Ravenell, at the crest of the bridge, Chase and Dylan lifted their right hands, extending their middle fingers to the pedestrian side of the walk way. I wrinkled my brow for a second until the significance of what had happened here came back to memory. I wanted to reach out to his shoulder, squeeze his muscle and let him know I understood. But I didn’t know him enough to gage his reaction, so I remained still, silently mouthing, I’m sorry, Chase.
Sitting back into the soft leather of the seat, I half listened to the conversation the other women were having. A sting of fear gripped me as we passed the road to James Island. Chase’s hand grips my calf, squeezing it as we zoom past the light. I wanted to flip off the streetlight, just as they had on the bridge, but worry about who may be waiting at the light kept my hands in my lap, toying with the cording of the seat.
Crossing into Georgia, several bikers signaled the need to get a fill up on gas. I hoped we would be stopping, as I really needed to use the ladies room. “Austin, are we stopping?” I heard Lainie ask.
“Is this a question or an order?” He teased back. Chase and I were on the right and I felt him decrease our speed, preparing to pull into a large gas stations with a food court. We pulled off to the side of the building, letting anyone behind us get in line for fuel. Lainie practically jumped off Austin’s bike before he had the kickstand down.
“You want somethin’?” Chase asked over his shoulder as he slipped off his helmet.
In agreeing to come on this trip, I knew upfront we would be staying overnight and stopping for lunch on the way there and back. The hotel was taken care of by Austin, so I assumed I would be sleeping on someone’s couch or bathtub. I had forty-two dollars to my name once I paid my bills, there was no room for an extra soda or bottled water, just enough to get a salad when we did stop. “Nah, I’m good.” I would drink from the faucet if I got thirsty.
Reaching into his front pocket, he pulled out a money clip surrounding several bills. Chase opened the folded currency and counted off several twenties. “Here, can you please grab me a big ass bottle of water and something sweet.”
I held the crisp bills between my fingers, unsure of what convenience stores he’d been shopping in where a bottle of water cost sixty bucks. “Sure, be right back.” I lifted off the helmet, being careful to secure it on the seat before I took off the jacket.
Cool air from the air conditioning hit my heated body, giving me instant desire for a long drink of water. As I walked to the back of the store where the beverages are kept, I passed by the hall for the restrooms, a long line had already formed. Against the dividing wall of the two bathrooms, was a water fountain, the hum of the cooler motor letting me know it was working. Lowering my head, I drank my fill before turning back and getting Chase his big ass water. As I started to close the glass door, I noticed a box of chocolate candy bars getting nice and solid in the lower temps of the cooler. After paying, the total nowhere close to the amount he handed me, I walked back to the side of the building to find two of the bikini girls who had been helicoptering around the men.
Chase and Austin were sitting on the edge of the curb, their hands and forearms dangling off their knees. With the closeness two brothers share—something I’m sure they don’t even realize. Dylan stands off to the side, talking to a man dressed in shorts and flip flops, most likely selling him one of his original creations. Chase had his ball cap on, with the bill again twisted to the back. He raised his sunglasses as I appro
ached, “Hey, Sweetness.”
Reaching up, he took the bottle from my hand, the condensation trickling between my fingers. Twisting off the top, he raised the bottle to his lips. I, along with the Barbie twins, watch mesmerized as his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow. The movement is like that of a snake charmer, captivating its audience intently and completely.
The blaring of a horn, followed by the crude comment of someone walking across the cement, returned me back to the hot Georgia sun and my reality.
“What did you get to drink?” He questioned as he wiped the small stream of water running down his chin.
“Nothing, I’m fine, really.” I leaned over to hand him the change from his water. “Oh, I almost forgot, they had these in the fridge.” I offered the candy bar with my other hand.
Chase looked at me, and then to the hand with his money, ignoring it as he reached out to take his chocolate from the other. “Good call, Sweetness. I love frozen chocolate bars.” Ripping off the top of the wrapper, he bit the upper third off in one take. How watching a man eat a sugary treat can turn into an erotic slideshow is something I will never be able to explain, even to myself.
“Come on, time to get going.” Dean instructed as he started the engine on his bike.
I remained standing, my hand still holding his money out to him. Chase still ignored the bills in his face, pushing himself up as he drained the last of his water in a few gulps. Crushing the plastic bottle, he tossed it in the trash behind him.
When he still doesn’t take the money, “Here, Chase. Take your money.”
He finally looked at the cash in my hand, and then to me, “Keep it, Sweetness. Consider it a handling fee.” Stepping around me, he climbed back on his bike.
Looking around, everyone is ignoring the conversation we’re having. I know he’s trying to be nice, but it’s unwanted and making me uncomfortable. I bite back the words I want to scream at him, demanding he take this money back, when an idea pops into my head. While it would take a fair amount of courage, the satisfaction of what I can accomplish will be worth the embarrassment I’m about to feel. Spinning around, I walked toward the bike, determination in every step. I placed my jacket and helmet back on, working as fast as possible, so as not to hold anyone up. Chase had his hand out for me once again, but this time I take it with the left instead of my right. He clasps my fingers tightly, just as I expect him to. Instead of stepping on the running board, I wrapped my fingers tight around his, taking my right hand, and more importantly the money, and shoved it as fast as I could down the front of his pants.
Absolute Valor (Southern Justice #3) Page 11
