***
At eight o’clock, Amy’s upstairs apartment virtually vibrated from the rumble of an engine. I ran to the window and looked out. “Oh dear Lord,” I said, staring at the monster motorbike, and the guy who lifted his leg over the machine. I held my breath while he took off his helmet, hoping and praying he wasn’t my date.
“Oh my. It’s Jackson.” Why I thought it could be anyone else, I didn’t know.
As though sensing someone watched him, he peered upward and waved at me in the window. It was too late then to turn out the lights and pretend no one was home. I returned his wave and his smile.
He raised his hand and motioned me outside.
I didn’t budge. I was absolutely positively afraid of riding on a motorbike. Never so much as sat my ass down on one and I didn’t intend to do so tonight. Before I could change my mind and hide out, I opened the kitchen door and ran down the stairs. Two seconds later, I stood in front of Jackson.
“I’m not going anywhere on that thing.”
He stared at my busted-out knees and holey Reeboks, then at the threads hanging from the frayed cuffs and hem of my denim jacket, lifting and falling with an on-and-off breeze.
“No?” His eyebrows raised a notch.
The gesture was getting annoying, but I hid my irritation and answered, “No.”
“Didn’t you say – ”?
“I know what I said, but an equal measure of settling the score didn’t include anything having to do with motorcycles.”
“You should have put exceptions on your offer.”
“Damn straight. Doesn’t the movement hurt your...you know. “ I nudged my chin at his crotch.
“I have a high pain threshold.”
“Ah.” I believed he did. My heart raced like an over-revved engine at the thought of riding on the bike. I’d probably suffer cardiac arrest if I actually did. I thought of an alternative solution. “We can take my car.” He looked at me. “You can drive,” I said, like that would entice him to cooperate.
“It won’t work,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because any other means of transportation are not allowed where we’re having dinner. It’s an exclusive club, strictly for bikers.” He grabbed his helmet from the seat. “I’ll have to think of another way for you to repay me.”
Something equally as frightening, probably. I could either take the bike ride or hold out for whatever other plan he might come up with. Since I had my druthers, I decided to go with the terrifying I knew than the terrifying I didn’t. Jackson Carlisle would have his due. Tonight. It was only fair after what I’d done to him. I can do this. Yes, I could.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
“All right.” He handed me a helmet. “I guessed your head measurement. I hope it fits.”
“I’m sure it will.” I pushed my hair back and put on the helmet. It fell to the bridge of my nose.
“Little too big, huh? Guess I overestimated the size of your head.”
“Ha. Ha.” I watched him rummage inside a side compartment on the back wheel. Seconds later, he held something round in his hand.
“Maybe this will help,” he said.
The helmet, with all of its pieces, turned out a perfect fit. The lime green ear imprints I could do without. Apparently, Jackson intended to humiliate me in measures. I’d go along with him. Once my debt was repaid, I’d have no further contact with him.
He took his time straddling the bike, then looked over his shoulder at me. “Getting on?”
I swallowed my fear, took a gulp of air and climbed on. After I got seated, he said, “You can hold on to me, if you want.”
Needing no further encouragement, I wrapped my arms around him, laced my fingers together and tightened my hold. I thought he chuckled. I couldn’t be sure. He took that moment to start the bike.
We blasted from the driveway. I clenched my teeth, laid my head hard against his back and closed my eyes, thinking about all the questions I should have asked, like how much experience he had riding a bike, the distance to this exclusive club, should I turn with him into a turn… I shook my head. Someday, I’d find my place in life.
On the highway, Jackson handled the motorbike like someone used to the machine, employing due caution merging into traffic and driving the center of our lane. He was full of surprises. More and more, I believed Trish was correct in her estimation of him. A good and decent man, he was. Still, though, being made a fool could change a person. I shuddered to think what else he had in store for me tonight.
Twenty minutes later, Jackson signaled a right turn and slowed, turning onto a rough path between a row of spruce and fir trees.
If I weren’t so frightened, I’d enjoy the clean, fresh air on my face and take a moment to savor the scent of pine needles and dampened earth. The moon was spectacular, full and bright. Unfortunately, there would be no sky gazing for me.
I loosened my grip around him when we arrived at the end of the path.
In the middle of a clearing stood the club. I stared at the broken timbers balancing an overhang, the few remaining asphalt shingles on the roof and the weather-beaten cedar siding which paint chips seemed to be holding in place. A dozen or so motorbikes parked like horses lined the front of the building. Country music, something about a party, streamed through the open windows on both sides of the entrance. Though there were no power lines running to the building, the inside was well lit.
Jackson shut off the motorbike.
Multiple parts of my anatomy vibrated and my ears hummed.
“You get off first,” Jackson said.
I didn’t move.
He turned in his seat. “Remember my injury?”
“Oh God. I’m sorry. I forgot.” I whipped my leg up and over, stepped to the ground and landed firmly on my butt in a mud puddle. I stared up at him, wondering how the devil he’d orchestrated that. I was sure he had.
“I forgot to caution you the ground is slippery. I’m sorry.” He got off the bike and offered me his hand. “Now, you’re going to feel uncomfortable the entire night.”
I grabbed his hand and squeezed hard, my nails digging into the skin on the top of his hand. He pulled me up like I weighed nothing. I only stopped propelling forward when I smashed against his chest.
“Nonsense,” I said, brushing off my derriere. “I’ll be dry in no time.”
“That’s good. I wouldn’t want you suffering because of my lack of foresight.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that,” I muttered beneath my breath.
“I’m sorry?” he asked, cupping a hand around his ear.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked, chuckling.
He drew his brows together and pursed his lips, as though the question deserved a great deal of thought.
I waited. A full minute passed before he spoke.
“Yes. Yes, I am. Very much, in fact.”
I patted his shoulder. “Don’t get used to it. All good things come to an end, sometimes unexpectedly and drastically.” I walked toward the entrance. A few seconds later, he caught up to me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I detected trepidation in his voice. After what I had done to him last night, his dread was warranted. But he had nothing to worry about. My revenge-taking days were behind me.
“Nothing.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
Before I could deflect his advance, he held me in his arms, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that robbed my equilibrium. I didn’t know where my breath ran off to, but if it didn’t return soon, I’d suffocate. Mistaking my discomfort for rapture, he deepened the kiss, pressing his lips harder against mine, his tongue exploring my mouth. Streaks of lightning flashed in my mind. My legs folded. I opened my eyes. A black curtain came down then, blocking everything in my sight. I fell to the ground for the second time tonight, the image of Jackson’s puzzled expression imprinting itself in my brain.
I woke to find myself stretched out on a makeshi
ft table amidst beer bottles and shot glasses and looking at the sun-ravaged and unshaven faces of men who seemed vaguely familiar.
“She’s coming to,” a voice at my head said.
I twisted around and looked at the man, noticing the clerical collar encircling his neck. I panicked. “You gave me the last rites?”
An Equal Measure Page 9
