Sinful Biker

by Terri Lane

  “I love your book so much.” A tall black woman that looked to be in her late thirties said as she handed over the book to Raven. “It inspired me to finally step up to my boss and I asked him for the promotion that I deserved.”

  “I’m so glad you loved it.” Raven said with a smile. It still surprised Raven that there were actually women like this who had not only read her book but had also loved it. Amanda—her best friend and manager—had said that it was because a lot of women could relate to it. It may be the twenty-first century, but it was somehow still a man’s world and it was still incredibly difficult for a woman to make it to the top with just her smarts, Raven had made it and made it big. She was a CEO of a fortune 500 company and she didn’t plan on stopping there. The book was Raven‘s first novel, since its release, she had been getting an enormous amount of love from black women all around the world who had read it and loved it. What surprised Raven most however was the amount of love she was getting from women of all races. When writing the book her target audience had been her black sisters because as far as she was concerned, they more often than not got the short end of the stick. However, women of all races had responded positively to the book and more than occasionally a white woman would tweet at her or snap chat her telling her how much the book had done for her in her career. Raven always felt a sense of accomplishment hearing that from people, the reason for the book was to help people and if it was doing that then she was more than fine. She had never intended on penetrating the market of all women, but within the first week the book had gotten so many positive reviews that more women had hoped on it irrespective of race.

  Raven handed the book back to the woman, giving her a gentle smile as she took a casual glance around the bookstore. Her heart skipped a beat in pleasure. You know you have made something people really like when the line to your book signing trails down several blocks. Were people actually waiting under the sun just to have her sign their book? She pinched her thigh under her Louis Vuitton skirt. Was she dreaming? How had this happened?

  “Just a few more books, Raven, and then we can go,” Amanda said from her position behind her. “You don't have to do everything.”

  “I want to do it all.” Raven retorted. There was no way she was going to let all these people come out for her and leave without her signature. It was unacceptable and she would rather leave the bookstore the next day with all their books signed than let that happen.

  Just as Raven was about to give another fan a signed copy of her book, she saw two white males walk into the bookstore. Raven didn’t know why, but they stood out like a sore thumb. Maybe it was because they were the only males in a sea of women or because they looked shabby and high, all she knew was that their presence made her unsettled. The taller of the two men walked to the back of the bookstore as if casing the place, while the shorter one stood by the door, his face a wooden mask. Women all around the store where throwing suspicious glances his way, why were two scrawny white men—who looked like they took crack for breakfast—casually walking into the bookstore today? Maybe they were lost, maybe she should ask them if they needed help. Maybe she should call the police.

  Before Raven could excuse herself and walk towards them, Amanda was already on it. With brisk steps, she approached them.

  “This is a closed book signing.” Raven heard her say from the distance. “Can I help you?” Focusing on signing her fans’ books, Raven forgot about them. Amanda was efficient; she could make the toughest of people pudding in her hands. Just as she was about to take her mind completely off it, Raven spied the taller of the two men—the one that had gone to the back of the store—from the side of her eye. She watched him intently, the book she was handing back to her fan forgotten. He nodded to his counterpart, it seemed like a silent language. Raven felt the sense that something bad was about to happen. She saw him move over to the lock of the shop and lock the door, that was when she reached down to her bag to get her phone, a little too late because as if in synchronization, the two men pulled out guns from the waistband of their jeans.

  “Whatda—” hardly were the words out of her mouth than they both raised their guns up and fired twice, sending chaos throughout the store. Women shrieked, some lay down instantly, some went scurrying behind furniture, all to avoid being in the line of fire.

  “Now listen to me y’all rich boujee women,” The shorter one said in a Texan drawl. “Because I’m only gonna say this once, and if y’all don't get it, someone's gonna ger hurt.” What? Raven thought, what were these drug induced assholes about to do? Why rob a store, how much money did they really think they could possibly make? It was almost a hilarious waste of time for them that Raven was convinced that they had to be high. That was before she glanced down her wrist and spied her Cartier bracelet. She had on jewelry that was worth a lot of money, just like every other woman in this store, expensive jewelry, expensive bags, walking banks.

  “Empty all y’all jewelry into this box that my brother here is gonna pass around,” the man continued, “If I see y’all using your phones, you shall be killet.” He smirked. “And by that, I mean we shall take you with us, skin you like we skin our ‘em cows, and eat you for breakfast. Just like ‘em cows.” What? Raven thought this is ridiculous. She needed to say something, after all, this was her book signing and it was her fault all these women were here. She wasn’t going to let an illiterate of a man boss her or any of these successful women around, she needed to talk them out of it.

  “Excu—Excuse me.” Her voice wobbled

  “Sit the hell down, girl!” Amanda’s voice reached her from where she stayed crouched on the floor, Raven decided that she wasn't going to concentrate on it, she needed to act. She placed her well-manicured hand tipped with red on the table and pushed herself up as she continued to speak. “Y’all need to leave before the police get here.” Her voice didn’t sound wobbly anymore, maybe it was because of the adrenaline coursing through her veins, giving her artificial confidence. The shorter one-eyed her as if he couldn’t believe she was talking to him, much less that she wasn't bluffing. “I called them as soon as you walked in.” She lied.

  “Oh really?” He chuckled. “It seems we got ourselves a smart mouth, Tommy.” He nodded his head slightly at his cohort.

  “Told ya not to say my name.” His brother huffed angrily.

  “Well, I didn't say ya last name did I?” The shorter one retorted. “What should we do with it?” Now he gestured towards Raven.

  “It?” Raven forgot that she was supposed to be scared. “I am not an ‘it’. I am a woman and I demand that you leave here right this moment.” Some may think that she wasn’t being so smart talking back to men with guns, but she had made lesser men cry in the boardroom and she wasn’t about to let these ones talk down on her. Wrong move, dumb move.

  It seemed to piss him off that Raven had the guts to make demands of him, her suspicion was confirmed with his next words; “Demands?“ he snarled his words like a big angry lion, his gun pointed directly in her direction as he walked towards her. “You make demands?” He was close enough for Raven to feel his breath on her skin now, and the fear started to creep back in.

  “Please just take whatever you want and leave,” Raven whispered. “No one gets hurt.” After all, that was the most important thing. Right? The pain that erupted across her cheek told her she was wrong.

  “Stop telling me what to do, bitch!” Did this scrawny white dude just hit a sister? Did he want to die? She felt herself about to raise her hands to hit him back, but someone was holding it down.

  “Bobby.” That single word sounded like a warning, a warning for the man standing right in front of her.

  “Empty your bag in this bag right now.” His voice was hard. Like any resistance from her would result in the end of her life. Why hadn't she just kept quiet like the rest of the women? Raven thought. It was her book signing and she had felt a need to stand up for these women, be a leader. She didn‘t want fear to have a place in her min
d, after all, hadn‘t her book said, 'I don't give fear a place in my life, that's how I succeed'? She had felt like she had to prove that the book was real, hence this.

  Raven stretched her hand under the table to bring out her Birkin bag, as she placed it on the table, she saw the look on his face.

  “You think you are better than me?” He asked eyeballing her bag. “That why you talk back at me, Ms…” He ransacked her bag for her ID, and brought it out. “Raven is it?” he scowled as he sized her up. “Well guess what, Ms Raven, I know where you live.”

  Those words would haunt her forever.

  *

  “Raven, you almost died.” Amanda scolded her softly as her warm voice reached Raven’s ears. “There is no way in hell that I am letting you run rampant and unprotected until these people are caught.” She added. “Ok?”

  “I don’t need a bodyguard girl,” Raven said, face to palm. She had woken up feeling particularly more cautious than she usually felt in her home, the final word of those thieves still ringing in her head; well guess what, Ms Raven, I know where you live.

  After spending the night at the police station recounting her experience and writing a report, Raven had been reluctant to go home but they had told her to call if she saw anything suspicious. Like she wouldn’t be dead before they got there, she sighed. Stop thinking negative thoughts, Raven. She told herself. You need to focus on your next book. That’s right, she thought. My first book had done so well and in less than three month I just signed a 5 million dollars contract for my next book. Focus on that. She really needed to get on it. But she couldn’t stop thinking about those men. Were they going to keep their threat? Was she totally screwed? He had sounded so serious, it was scary. She didn’t know what to do to stay safe except maybe move, and that she couldn’t do right at that moment. Stop it, Raven! She thought. She was being ridiculous, there was no way those thieves would have the guts to come to her house when they knew they were wanted men. However, she had gone ahead to call a locksmith to change her doors before she could sleep yesterday.

  “Yes you do, girl, and I have already called the agency,” Amanda replied her, why did this make her feel relieved so suddenly? It didn’t matter; she didn’t need someone flanking her every move. She needed to stay focused on her next book and not worry about something that hadn’t happened yet. “I sent you a file of the list the agency sent to me,” Amanda continued. “Pick one and get back to me so I can tell them to send him right away.”

  Raven moved from one end of her loft to the next—where her computer was—and sat down. She looked through into her mailbox and opened Amanda‘s email. There was no harm in looking was there?

  “I don’t need someone to protect me, I am a strong independent woman and I can take care of myself.” The pain in her cheek from where the one thief had hit her suddenly throbbed mockingly. She murmured into the receiver while scrolling through the various selections the agency had sent halfheartedly, none of them caught her attention and she had no interest in having any of them behind her every second of the day. That was how bodyguards worked, right? They were with you all the time and everywhere you went. Right? Or would her case be different? Maybe her bodyguard would just have to be with her at home since the home was where the threat was. Right?

  “Nevertheless, pick one Raven, or I will pick at random for you. This is non-negotiable I’m afraid.” Amanda’s snappy voice invaded her space. Raven paused for a millisecond. She hated when Amanda treated her like she was a six-year-old incapable of making any decision by herself, she was a 34-year-old woman and if she said she didn’t need a bodyguard then her words should damn well be the law! She was about to tell Amanda just that when she reached the next selection and stopped.

  Steamy. Sexy. Manly.

  Those were the only words that came to her mind for the first few minutes her eyes laid sight on him. As she looked at the new picture, her mouth wide open. She could have been drooling and wouldn’t have cared. His profile said he was 6 ft 4, something that usually intimidated her, but his other qualities stopped her from worrying too much. He was an attractive white man, and she found him sexy.

  Sex with a white man, another thing to tick off her bucket list. Sex with this white man. Raven had always wanted to find out what it would be like to fuck a white man, but she was never attracted to any of the ones she had seen, that is before this one. She remembered telling Amanda about this once; her response had been equal parts funny and rude at the same time. “Still seeking approval from tiny-dicked, white men? Not cool, Raven.” Raven hadn't spoken to her for one month.

  His eyes were the deepest, darkest shade of green that she had ever come across, so captivating and intimidating at the same time that you almost didn’t notice the stain of gold on them, they looked like they were framed by lashes longer than hers, his jaw was guarded by a flanking golden beard. That’s right, the man’s beard was blond. Sexy blond. He was almost beautiful, but a number of other features saved him from that ridiculous term. First, his big ass nose that was placed squarely on his face, like it was trying to seek all the attention. It was the first thing anyone would probably notice about him, that is if they didn’t notice the pink stringy length of the scar that started right next to his left eye—so close that he was lucky to still have the eye—and trailing down in long wormy details to take refuge in his beard.

  “Raven, you still there?” Amanda’s voice invaded her sexual thoughts.

  “You know what?” Raven said, “I change my mind. Maybe a bodyguard for a few days will be a good thing for me.”

  “Oh-Okay” Amanda sounded a little taken aback. “I thought I would have to do some more convincing, what changed your mind?” A look of embarrassment crossed Raven‘s face, good thing Amanda wasn’t there to see it.

  “I don’t feel safe, Amanda, protection sounds good.” She lied. She couldn’t very well tell her that she had finally found the white man that she wanted to fuck her, tiny dick and all.

  *

  How does it begin? Who is my audience? What am I even writing about? These were the thoughts going through Raven's head as she stared at her blank screen.

  She had on a royal blue night shirt that barely touched her knees, the hole in several places signified that it had seen better days, and today was definitely not one of them. The front of the shirt was stained with pizza sauce, a testament to her not so recent indulgence. Her hair was in a silk night scarf, and she hadn't showered in more than 48 hours, but she still somehow looked like a sexy mess, the kind that boys loved to talk about and girls loved to hate.

  Raven didn't know how long she had been sitting there, she couldn't be bothered with that when the sole reason for her present state had not even come close to accomplishment. It had been a few days now, and she was no closer to starting her new book than she had been when she had first taken this sabbatical from work. She couldn't remember the first book being this hard, in fact, it had been quite easy, no writer's block or anything of that sort, ideas had poured out of her head eager to get onto paper. But this one, this one was just horrible! She sighed in exasperation. Was she burnt out of ideas? Unoriginal? Just another writer looking to make a quick buck without any care of content? God, she hoped not.

  But for the life of her, she couldn't understand why it was taking her so damn long to come up with the first sentence of her new book? She had tried everything that other writers had recommended on Google, even the ones that had been more than a little silly—dipping her leg in cold water for thirty minutes—but nothing seemed to be work. A part of her knew why she was finding it so hard to start this book… she hated to admit it but she was scared of failure. The first one had been so original, it had been something she had been passionate about writing for a very long time. She had written it hoping people would read it and learn from it, but never in her wildest dreams had she expected it to do so well, but it had. That had been a wonderful surprise and an incredible accomplishment for her. However, it had also set the
bar high. Too high. This new book could either be her using that height as a leverage to jump higher, or falling straight down from all the way up. Raven didn't want the later.

  The incident at the bookstore had made everything twice as bad as it would normally have been. She had found it very difficult to sleep since that day, she felt herself becoming one of those people that was afraid of their own shadow, and she was unable to stop it.

  “Well guess what, Ms Raven, I know where you live.”

  That sentence still haunted her every waking hour, the police had no leads on the men, a week had almost gone by and the agency was still yet to send over a bodyguard, at this point she felt it was God's way of telling her to stay away from white men. The irony of that made her chuckle a little. She was this close to calling Amanda to ask that they use another agency, but there was this thing about pride; once you had it and you let it have precedence on your decisions, it was hard to get rid of.

  Raven stood up from her perch in her home office, she needed to stretch a little. As she moved about, she spied her wall clock. Damn was that the time? It was already 7 pm and she hadn't eaten anything all day. She really should go out and get a bite, working on an empty stomach was the surest way to failure, besides pizza again couldn't cut it, that had been her breakfast, lunch, and dinner yesterday and she was determined to get something healthy to eat... but first a Starbucks.

  Her feet touched on marble floors as she moved from her study headed to her bedroom, she couldn't very well go to Starbucks looking like a hobo now could she? Changing into some fresh clothes would be more than nice, it may take longer getting her food if she cleaned up a little, but Raven knew from experience what being clean and well-fed did to her state of mind. Maybe she wasn't writing because she felt it was only right to clean up. Besides, a little fresh air and coffee would be good for h–