Undaunted: Knights in Black Leather

by Ronnie Douglas

  Chapter 15

  AFTER THREE SHIFTS at the bar where Zion hadn’t even stopped by, it was pretty clear to me that he’d taken my inability to have a one-night stand as a total rejection of everything. Maybe it was for the best. I tried telling myself that repeatedly, even though I was fairly sure I was lying to myself the whole time. I wanted him. I liked him—too much to consider a one-night stand and far too much to consider more. I wasn’t going to get involved with a criminal. I couldn’t.

  Noah had stopped me on campus once to tell me that Echo had agreed to allow Noah to ask around for information, but he hadn’t heard anything. There weren’t any break-ins or vandalism that week either. Everything seemed strangely calm. I, however, felt like I was half-asleep. I looked up at the sound of every Harley on the street and greeted every door opening at the bar with hope. It was absurd that I missed the brief exchanges with Zion; it was foolish that I missed the smiles he sent my way when he walked into the bar. I told myself repeatedly that I’d blown the whole thing out of proportion. He was an interesting guy who paid attention to me. It was rare, and I had made it into something bigger. Obviously, if we’d been becoming real friends he wouldn’t have vanished just because I pulled away.

  None of that changed how I felt. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t rationalize away my feelings for a guy. It sucked.

  Despite the way I felt about missing Zion, juggling work and classes was going well. I was as settled as I’d been in Portland. I had a job, a home, and school. I was even feeling less lonely. Ellen and I had lunch together several times, and she was fast becoming a good friend. Her need to sort through my closet and try to lend me clothes was a little weird, but as far as quirks went, it was more endearing than off-putting. So far, she’d been gentle in her suggestions for me, although her own style went from neo-hippie to old-fashioned country to grunge to black-and-white film goddess. Fashion was her future career. She’d told me so several times. She never wore anything awful, though, and maybe dressing up like I was a different person would make me feel different too.

  After my Friday class had ended—and a whole week had passed without a single sighting of Zion—I decided to treat myself to some comfort food. It was stereotypical, but curling up with ice cream and a sappy movie seemed more tempting than it ever had in my life.

  I headed to the grocery store, deciding to pick up proper groceries to assuage my guilt at my upcoming ice cream binge. As I was walking in, I saw Quincy walking out. He didn’t even acknowledge me, but I still said, “Hello.”

  Being disliked was never something that felt good, and it added to my already surly feelings.

  I was piling my cart with produce—mostly berries and fruit that would go nicely with ice cream—when a familiar voice whispered, “Don’t look, but Mrs. Connors is giving you her death glare. Put the tomato in the cart and keep walking.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to find Noah standing right behind me with an onion in one hand and a bright red Ryerson’s shopping basket in the other. The woman in question was watching him.

  “Actually, I think it might be you she’s watching.”

  “I never attract the right sort of women. Always the ones old enough to be my mother.”

  A laugh escaped me before I could help it. The way she was glaring wasn’t anywhere near a come-on. Mostly, she looked like she thought he was going to snatch purses or cuss in front of young ears or any number of things that Nice Young Men shouldn’t do.

  Noah and I walked farther away from her before I asked, “Did you hear anything new?”

  Noah shook his head. “I’ll tell you if I do. I was actually just out shopping and thought I’d say hello.”

  I glanced at his basket: steak, several potatoes, and some sort of hot sauce with flames on the side. My cart was a bit more varied, and I’d only made my way through part of the produce aisle. We walked in relative silence as I selected fruits and vegetables.

  “You should come to the races tonight,” Noah said suddenly.

  “The what?”

  “Races.”

  “You mean cars driving in circles?” I frowned at him. “Why would I do that? Why would anyone, actually?”

  “It’s fun.” He shrugged. “I’ll even let you sit with me, but you need to bring your own cooler. I don’t want to be seen toting a bunch of girly drinks.”

  “I can’t.” That was the best I could say, and it sounded lame even to me.

  Noah put a hand on my arm. “I’m not asking you to go on a date, Aubrey. You said we could be friends, though, right? I’m just introducing my new friend to the wonders of Williamsville. I need to go either way because Killer’s like a kid who got the lead in the Christmas pageant. He needs applause. Just come with me to watch my cousin drive in circles.”

  The thought of seeing Zion, even though it would just be from a distance, changed my mind. I felt instantly guilty that hanging out with Noah—who was being a good friend—was more appealing to me because I would be watching Zion. I couldn’t admit that, although I was fairly sure Noah suspected as much. I didn’t want to mislead him, though, so I asked, “Would it be okay if I brought someone? Since you are just asking as a friend, I mean.”

  “Hell, bring your grandmother if you want. Mrs. Evans has probably never been to the track.”

  “So we’re agreed that this is not a date?” I prompted.

  “Exactly.”

  “You’ve hardly said a word to me the past week at the bar or on campus. What changed?”

  Noah’s light tone vanished. “I wanted to see what you decided about Killer. I might not approve, but I don’t poach from family, especially him.”

  “Nothing to decide.” My voice started to waver, so I took a breath before continuing, “Zion has apparently decided my friendship isn’t good enough. I haven’t seen him all week.”

  “I know.” Noah sounded almost sorry. “That’s why I’m asking you now. I waited and . . . Just come out with me, Aubrey. No strings. You look like you could use a night out, and it’s fun. Killer will be on the track, so it’s not like you’re going to need to talk to him.”

  In the month I’d lived here, my only social events had been the fair, which was a disaster of drunken stupidity, and a day of cleaning graffiti with Zion, which was best not pondered at all.

  “Fine,” I told Noah. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Great. Text me when you’re at the track.” He held out his hand. “Phone.”

  Mutely, I handed it over. After a few moments, he passed it back to me. His name and number were still on the screen.

  “And Aubrey?”

  I looked at him.

  “It’s not a date, but so we’re clear, since you seemed confused when I offered you a ride before”—he put his finger under my chin and tipped my head up so I was looking into his eyes—“if I thought you’d say yes to a real date, I’d ask. Zion had his shot. I’d like a chance to take you out, but I’ll settle for your friendship until you’re ready for something else.”

  I was still trying to find words to reply when he said, “See you tonight,” and left.

  I watched him walk away, not knowing if there was any sort of normal response in these sorts of circumstances.

  My phone was still in my hand, so I did the logical thing: I called Ellen.

  “Miss me already?” she answered, instead of saying hello. “Class just ended.”

  “Are you busy tonight?”

  Something in my voice must have given me away because her teasing tone vanished as she said, “What happened?”

  Even after glancing around to make sure no one was near enough to hear, I still lowered my voice to say, “I think Noah sort of hit on me . . . or something.”

  “And you’re offering him to me instead? I’m not sure he’s going to go for that idea.”

  I quickly summarized as best I could without being overheard and ended with, “So I need you to come to the races with me.”

  “Go to the races with yo
u and Noah to watch Killer drive like he has a death wish? What the hell, it’s better than my big plans for the night.”

  “If you have plans—”

  “My plan,” she interrupted, “was to see if you wanted to watch a movie, since you seemed like someone kicked your puppy all week, but since you’re already busy, I’m guessing that wouldn’t work out for me anyhow.”

  Cautiously, I asked, “So did you want to watch a movie instead?”

  “No, sweetie, I want to go with you to the races. I’ll be over at half six to get you dressed up, okay?”

  I exhaled in relief, and then paused when I realized what she’d said. “Wait. Dressed up?”

  “That’s my fee. I get to use you as my model three times.”

  “Model how?”

  “Just wearing the clothes I pick during your normal day,” Ellen clarified. “I’ve been moderate, but . . . this one will cost you.”

  I couldn’t say I was genuinely surprised. Ellen was pushy, but somehow she made it seem charming. Truth be told, I got more compliments when she made clothing suggestions than I ever had in my life.

  “Deal,” I agreed.

  When I got home and told Grandma Maureen my plans, she nodded and said, “Good. You’ve been about as chipper as a wet cat all week.”

  “Sorry.”

  She waved my words away. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

  “I know.”

  We fixed a light meal, and by the time I was putting the last of the dishes in the drainer, Ellen was ringing the bell.

  Grandma Maureen let her in with a welcoming smile. “Are you planning on cheering sourpuss up?”

  “That’s my mission. Cheer her up, dress her up, and take her out . . . not necessarily in that order,” Ellen announced.

  I waited as they exchanged a few words. Then Ellen turned to me and eyed me as if she was mentally cataloging potential outfits and rejecting them. “Country casual tonight,” she finally said.

  “Do your worst.”

  Ellen gave me a faux stern look. “As if my taste is ever anything but fabulous.”

  My grandmother laughed, and I couldn’t help but join in. Ellen sounded like she’d just pronounced an edict. I had no idea what exactly country casual was, but I was game to find out.

  A couple of hours later, Ellen stood at my side, pointing out the landmarks and layout of the track. Despite never having been to a racetrack, I wasn’t feeling out of place. I did feel a little silly in what I was wearing, but I didn’t look silly. The jeans I had on were my own, but the almost too tight green tank and the cute aqua cowboy boots were hers, as were the bracelets and necklace. The makeup was all Ellen’s doing too, and the way my hair was pinned up and curled was her work. The good news was that we were the same size in general; the bad news was that my chest was a little bigger, so her tops seemed more risqué than my normal style.

  “Aubrey?”

  I turned to find Noah staring at me. “Hi.” When he said nothing further, I motioned to Ellen. “Do you know Ellen?”

  “Ellie,” he said to her, politely nodding. “It’s been . . . a while.”

  The look she gave him was mocking. “Has it? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Noah tensed, and I was fairly certain I was missing something. Again. He stared at her for a moment before looking back at me. “Is that Ellie’s shirt?”

  “She needed a dress-up doll,” I told him. “Apparently, I’m going shopping with her too.”

  He nodded. “She has a great eye for that sort of thing.”

  Rather than seeming pleased by his compliment, Ellen bristled. I’d need to ask her what the history was there. I was starting to think the whole evening was going to be a fiasco, but then she folded her arms and, in a far lighter voice, asked, “So where are we sitting?”

  Noah didn’t quite shake his head, but for a moment he simply stared at her. Then he was fine, smiling and seeming as comfortable as he usually was with me. “Right. I’ll walk you over, and then I’m going to go check on Killer.”

  We had only gone about three steps before someone called Ellen’s name. She looked at me. “I’m not bailing on you. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll meet you there.”

  Noah gestured toward the bleachers and told Ellen, “We’re over in the usual Wolves section.”

  “Got it.” She leaned in close to my ear and said, “Not a date, my ass. He’s certainly hoping. You could do a lot worse than Dash.” Then she squeezed my hand and left me there with Noah.

  Chapter 16

  BEING AT THE races felt a bit like attending a high school football game in a small town: it was half about watching some of your friends kick the ass of some rival team and half about seeing the rest of your friends in the stands. Williamsville had a hometown feel to it that I’d only ever read about. It didn’t make me want to give up all my plans and stay here forever, but I was really starting to understand why people did.

  “Do you mind if I don’t go with you to talk to Zion?” I asked Noah. I felt exceedingly weird at the idea of Zion seeing me here with him.

  “I figured on it.” Noah raised his arm and motioned someone over.

  Billy, a sometime bouncer at the bar, came to join us.

  “I need to check on Killer. Show Aubrey where we are?”

  Billy flashed a wide grin at us, looking like he’d just won a prize. “Oh, the things I have to do. Keep an eye on the pretty girl, Billy. Escort the pretty girl, Billy. Run away and marry the—”

  “Pretty sure I didn’t ask you to do that,” Noah interrupted with a laugh.

  Billy winked at me. “My Aunt Ettie worked as a carnie. Saw the future, she did.” He linked an arm through my elbow and started walking away. “ ‘Billy,’ she said, ‘one day you’ll meet a gorgeous girl not even a third of your age, and you’ll have to marry her.’ It’s a long time I’ve waited for you.”

  “She better not be engaged when I get there,” Noah called out.

  Billy just rolled his eyes. “Poor young men, always trying to steal the girls away before I can find out if they’re the heartbreaker my Aunt Ettie warned me about.”

  “So this young girl is a heartbreaker,” I prompted.

  “It’s a curse. Ettie’s fault, of course.” He sighed mournfully. “Ettie made a move on the Strong Man. She liked a big man, you know. Unfortunately, one of the trapeze girls was descended from a bruja.”

  “A what?”

  “Witch, girl. She had witch blood in her. Spanish temper, magic skills, and . . . well, you can guess what happened. Ettie got us all cursed.” Billy nodded at a few bikers I hadn’t met as we climbed to our seats in the bleachers, and when they looked at him in question, he switched from storyteller to protector. “This is Aubrey. Karl’s new bar girl. Sweet as molasses with a wit like cayenne-coated jalapeños.”

  Obviously, they were well used to Billy’s tendency toward story. Most of the men simply smiled or said hello. A few of the women did too, but others looked at me like I was there to steal their men. I was starting to get used to that attitude, but I’d also found a few standard replies that helped.

  “I’m just out here for a few months saving up money to go back to school full-time. I live with my grandmother, Maureen Evans.”

  “The schoolteacher?” one of the women asked.

  “That’s her,” I said. “I’m staying with her while I save up to move.”

  As they had before, those facts seemed to calm any thoughts that I was here on the prowl. I debated going over to Ellen when she appeared, but she stopped to talk to several of the Wolves I’d seen at the bar with Killer, and I felt self-conscious about going to talk to them when I was here with Noah. Instead, I stayed where I was and used the tactic Noah had suggested I use if all else failed—point out that I was his friend. I understood that they read it as “girl who sleeps with him,” but since I wasn’t interested in landing one of the Wolves, I was okay with them thinking the wrong thing.

  “I’m a friend of Noah’s,” I said.
“He invited me and Ellen to see the race because I’d never been to one.”

  That had the benefit of turning the remaining looks of doubt into dismissal or friendliness. A few of them started pointing out the cars and explaining different races and rules. Honestly, most of it was perplexing to me. All I knew was that I was here with people who were laughing and friendly, and I felt safe and embraced. It was a little like being a part of one of those big families I’d always envied.

  By the time Noah arrived, I was giggling and sipping on a wine cooler that one of the girls had handed me. It wasn’t as ghastly as beer, but it had relaxed me a little too much already.

  “Let me take you for a ride after the races,” Noah whispered.

  I licked the drops of wine cooler from my lips. “Maybe.”

  Noah stared at me until I thought I was going to get up and flee. I don’t know what came over me to make me say that. I didn’t like him that way, but he knew that. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, I looked away.

  I motioned Ellen toward me, feeling like I was flailing and needing a friend without ulterior motives at my side. She came and slid into the seat on the opposite side of me.

  “Can I have a sip?” Ellen asked.

  “Here.” Another woman passed a bottle down from a cooler behind us.

  I turned to get it, and Noah whispered in my ear, “Just so you know, we could turn this into a date if you wanted.”

  Instead of replying, I started chatting with Ellen, who seemed to be alternating between glaring at Noah and smiling at me.

  “Is everything okay?” I whispered.

  “Dash and I grew up together,” she said. “Sometimes he irritates me.”

  “Do you want to go? We can—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “I want you to have fun. Enjoy the races. Enjoy Dash. He really is a great guy. We just had words last time we talked, and seeing him . . . I forgot how angry I was until I saw him.”