Slate (Rebel Wayfarers MC)

by MariaLisa deMora

  Reuben perked up at that. “I’ve always wanted to buy a bike to ride. We use dirt bikes to work the cattle in some places where it’s hard on the horses, but I think I’d like the open road a lot.”

  Andy nodded. “It’s been an education in people, that’s for sure.”

  “You can get that lots of places.” Reuben shifted from foot to foot for a minute. “I’m going into Lamesa tonight, to the Mexican restaurant. Want to meet me there and we can talk bikes? I got to get going if I’m gonna make it home while it’s still daylight, and Rosie here sucks for night riding.” He thumbed back at the mare standing with her eyes sleepily at half-mast.

  “Sure, man,” Andy answered. “Okay if I bring Chelsie if she wants?”

  Reuben nodded, laughing, “Yeah, if you can get her out of her kitchen…and if the other hands will let her go.” Andy nodded; her cooking was good, and she seemed to enjoy the work. He’d heard her singing most mornings as she made an early breakfast.

  He had her body singing at night, too, when she crept into his bunk, but that was not something to share with Reuben.

  “Okay, I’ll see you there.” Andy gathered up the cups and bucket to stow them. He got into the truck as Reuben secured his saddle and bridle, and swung onto the horse. Both men lifted a hand in farewell, each turning towards home.

  ***

  He shook Mr. Transom’s hand, grinning when the man pulled him into a brief hug. “Be careful out there, son,” he muttered into Andy’s ear.

  Andy smiled. “I will, Mr. Transom. I appreciate the job, and hope you’ve been happy with the work. I like helping out, but I guess you already figured that out.” Transom nodded, stepping back into the shade of the porch. Andy swung down the steps and straddled his bike, starting it. He saw Chelsie in the kitchen window and raised a hand to wave at her, but she ducked out of sight.

  He sighed; that was the one thing he didn’t like about leaving today. He’d hurt Chelsie’s feelings a few days ago and hadn’t been able to apologize to her as he wanted. It made him feel like an asshole. He killed the bike and Transom turned to look. “I gotta tell Chelsie bye. I haven’t been able to catch her out of the kitchen for the past couple of days. Okay if I go into the house, sir?”

  “Sure, Andy,” he said with a puzzled look on his face.

  “Thanks,” Andy tossed out as he took the steps two at a time, heading into the house. Finding Chelsie in the kitchen, he stood between her and the doors, waiting patiently until she turned around. “Chelsie, I wanted to say goodbye before I left. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. This isn’t the place for me.”

  Looking steadily into his face, she said, “I know, Andy. I...well, I don’t understand, actually, but I know that’s how you feel.”

  He pulled the door closed behind him, walking slowly across the room to her. Reaching up a hand to touch her face, he skimmed her cheekbone with his knuckles, pushing his fingers into the hair at the back of her head. Slowly pulling her close, he gave her every chance to push away or say no. He paused with his lips right over hers, mingling their breath for a moment before softly kissing her.

  “I will miss you, Chelsie,” he murmured, kissing her again. She pulled back fractionally and he released her, his fingers trailing down her throat as he stepped back.

  “I’ll miss you too, Andy,” she said. He started to smile, but she continued, “I would never have guessed that we would have so much fun, and that it was okay to be funny, especially in bed.” She blushed. “I know I wasn’t very experienced, but you were patient and kind.” She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the cheek. “I’ll see ya, Andy. Be careful, okay?”

  Riding down the driveway, he thought about her goodbye and felt his heart clench a little, but he’d known she was not for him. He stopped in Lamesa at a tattoo place, walking in and talking to the resident artist. He’d started the outline of a dragon on his chest when he got into town; they’d worked on it over the weeks and now needed to put scales on the wings to finish it out.

  Andy sat in the chair, thinking about Chelsie. “Hey, man, when you get done with the dragon, let’s do a band on my left bicep. I want it to say ‘the past is practice’.”

  Admiring his chest later that night in a motel mirror, he loved the way the wings stretched from collarbone to collarbone, dipping at his throat to the dragon’s neck. The tail hung sinuously down his chest and belly, with the last half-inch dropping to the waistband of his jeans. The hind legs were drawn up tightly, coiled as if to strike. He liked this ink a lot; it was an original, drawn just for him. Expensive as fuck, but worth it, he thought.

  Turning, he looked at the plastic wrap on his bicep covering the tribal band that held the new saying. Everything tattooed on his body had meaning, even if he was the only one who knew it. It made the ink profound, as if it were telling his life’s story through the pictures on his skin.

  10 -

  Lessons everywhere

  Ten years ago

  “Fuck me, this state is fucking wide,” Andy muttered as he realized there was nearly another hundred miles to Louisiana. After five days, he was still in Texas. He’d stopped in Dallas for a day, hanging out at a local bike shop and begging use of some tools to tune up his Indian.

  He’d been able to purchase a tool roll bag a while back he had strapped under his seat, but he did not yet have all the tools needed. Buying them one at a time was harder than it sounded, because sometimes shops didn’t have tools available when he needed it, or when he had the cash.

  His girl was humming along today, though; she was happy, and so was he. Now, he simply needed to find a place to stay. Pulling over, he drew out his well-worn map, deciding to detour north of old highway 80 for a bit, turning onto some smaller country roads.

  Going north out of Gladewater, he came to a small town called Gilmer. Pulling into a gas station, he filled up his tank and walked to the window to pay. Picking up a pop and a candy bar from the slide-top cooler beside the building, he looked into the glassed-in office and saw a pretty brunette.

  That was his first impression of her, and his second impression was, Holy shit, she’s pregnant…like, very fucking pregnant. She was so round she had to be miserable, but was looking at him pleasantly. He glanced and didn’t see a ring, and wondered about her circumstances for a bare second. “Hey, beautiful, how are you today?”

  Her smile lit up her face. “I’m doin’ okay, thanks. You?”

  He nodded. “It’s a gorgeous day, I have a good bike, and a beautiful woman just smiled at me. It doesn’t get any better.”

  She blushed and looked down. “Gas, pop, and candy—$15.50, sir.” She marked something on a piece of paper; there was only one other mark there, and he wondered what she was counting.

  “What’s that?” He pointed through the glass at the marks.

  She blushed deeper, keeping her eyes off his face. “Just a tally, sir.”

  “Andy,” he said.

  She frowned and looked up at him. “Excuse me?”

  “That’s my name…Andy.”

  Her smile broke through again. “Hi, Andy, I’m Charlotte.” He passed cash through the little tray, and she sent back his change.

  “Nice to meet you. Would you like a pop, Charlotte?” he asked, startling himself. What the fuck was he doing talking to this preggo gal?

  “No, thanks, carbonation isn’t my friend lately.” She laughed silently.

  “When are you due, beautiful?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Another month,” she sighed.

  He frowned. “That’s not very far away. Your doc says you are okay to keep working?” Leaning against the cooler with his hip, he settled into the conversation.

  “I have to,” she replied and shrugged.

  “Dad’s not in the picture?” he guessed, and she shook her head no, her dark, heavy curls swinging across her back. “Ever ridden on a bike?” he asked, thinking to himself, Fucker, shut your mouth now.

  She grinned at him, nodding. “Yeah, I’m frien
ds with folks in a motor club in Longview. It’s been a while, but I love bikes and riding.”

  He frowned, because the clubs he’d met so far would have treasured any baby born to one of their members. The brothers always seemed to love babies and kids, and the old ladies sure did too. All the clubs had been family-friendly for at least a portion of their gatherings.

  He looked at her and saw she had tucked that chin again, looking down at her hands clasped on the counter with her hair hiding her face.

  “Is the baby one of the members’?” he quizzed her. She shook her head, not looking up. “No?” he pressed.

  “No, it’s not a member’s. Their Sergeant at Arms would have killed anyone that tried anything.” She smiled fondly. “He was my first friend there.”

  He changed the subject, “Charlotte, can you recommend a good place for dinner in Gilmer?” He’d made a decision without trying to understand it; he was just gonna go with it.

  “Sure, there’s a great Mexican place, La Finca; it’s the best sit-down food in Gilmer after dark,” she said.

  “What time do you get off?” He raised his eyebrow at her again, watching as her eyes flew up to meet his in alarm. He said, “It’s nothing more than dinner. I don’t know anyone in town, and I don’t like eating alone. You’d be doing me a favor, really.”

  Watching her face, he saw she was looking down again, but her finger was tracing that mark she’d made on the paper. “Six,” she said quietly.

  He nodded and rapped gently on the glass to get her to raise her eyes again. “I’ll be here at five-thirty.” He smiled and walked over to his bike.

  He was back and waiting at the promised time, sitting behind the gas station office. About ten minutes until six, a pickup drove up and parked, with a little blonde woman inside. Then, right at six, another pickup drove up, and a tall gal with crazy hair got out and knocked at the back door of the office.

  Charlotte came out, talking to the tall gal and pointing towards a storage shed. They both nodded and laughed, and the tall woman bent down and put her hands on either side of Charlotte’s belly, looking like she was talking to it. They smiled, and she stepped into the office, closing the door.

  Charlotte waved at him, and walked to stand between him and the other truck. “Andy, I wasn’t sure if you were serious,” she said quietly.

  “Can you ride with me?” he asked. “Is it safe for the baby?”

  She nodded. “Yes, it’s okay. Let me tell my cousin what I’m doing. What time should she pick me up?”

  He looked at her. “I can take you home, beautiful.” He smiled widely. “I’d like to.”

  Her eyes cut down to the ground and then back up, her hair swinging into her face. “Okay.”

  Turning, she addressed the blonde in the truck. “Lissa, this is Andy.” She took a deep breath, looking down. “I’m going out to dinner with him.” Her shoulders drew in on themselves like she was readying for an attack, and almost immediately, it came.

  “What? Are you crazy, Charlotte? You can’t go out like that. You know how people will talk. I know you know better.” The blonde was hanging halfway out the window of the truck, yelling at her.

  Andy got off the bike and went to stand behind Charlotte. “I’m a very safe driver, Lissa. I’m also a nice guy.” He smiled at her. “I promise.” Putting his hands on Charlotte’s shoulders, he turned her and said, “But, I don’t want to cause problems you don’t need. You can say no to dinner, beautiful.”

  She shook her head, whispering, “I’d like to go. I want to.”

  “Well then, let’s go.” He looped an arm around her waist, turning her towards the bike. Waving at Lissa, he shouted a goodbye over his shoulder, hearing her sputter in surprise. Pulling a helmet from his bag, he handed it to Charlotte and waited for her to put it on, glancing over to see Lissa staring at them.

  “Okay, how do you think will be the easiest way to mount the bike, beautiful? I can pick you up and put you on it, or you can stand on the pegs and swing a leg over the back. I don’t want you to hurt yourself, and I’m kinda clueless here about,” he gestured to her belly, “all of that.”

  Grinning, she gestured towards her belly with her hands. “I confess, it’s the first time for me, too.” He laughed at her joke and raised both eyebrows at her.

  “I was riding horses up until a couple weeks ago, so I can stand on the peg and swing over, if you can hold the bike nice and steady,” she offered. He straddled the bike, leaning down and flipping the pegs into position. Holding out his hand, he smiled when she put hers trustingly into his to step up onto the peg.

  He heard the truck drive away, and was glad that Lissa had finally given up her hateful staring. Charlotte settled into place behind him, her round belly pressed against his back. She laughed. “I can’t put my arms around your waist very well,” she told him, and placed her hands on his shoulders instead.

  He leaned his head back, turning to see her face; she’d pulled her hair into a ponytail before putting on the helmet. For the first time, her features were clearly visible, no more hiding behind a screen of dark hair, and he could see that she was pretty, “Alrighty, which way, beautiful?”

  “Turn right onto the highway out of the lot, then right at the courthouse square. Straight through two stop signs. It’s bumpy and downhill, so be aware. We’ll turn left at the stop sign by the feed store, and you’ll see the place on the left.” She took in a breath and he thought she would continue, but she sat back a little.

  “Okay, right, right, bumpy, left—got it, but if I mess up, tap the shoulder that’s the right direction, okay?” He saw her nod.

  Starting the bike, he glanced back at her face again, pleased to see a wide smile. He grinned, guessing she must have missed riding. Pulling out of the gas station carefully, he softly throttled up through a couple of gears, and then held steady to the courthouse square. He was ready for her to lean the wrong way, but was surprised when he nearly went out of position because she leaned into the turn instead. “Whoa,” he called back, “sorry about that.” She nodded and rubbed his shoulders lightly with her thumbs, her fingertips softly touching his collarbones.

  She leaned up close, repeating her instructions from before, “Straight through two stop signs, but don’t roll them; the cop shop is down that street.” She pointed to the right. Andy caught his breath as she pressed up against him, saying, “Then go left at the third stop.” Sitting back, she put her hands lightly on his shoulders again.

  Goddammit, he’d gotten hard from her belly and breasts pressing tight against his back. Thank God her arms weren’t around his waist, or she’d feel more than she’d counted on. Rolling slowly down the hill—she was right; it was full of potholes—he got to the last stop sign. Looking to the left, he saw the restaurant like she’d said, and the highway just beyond.

  He had an idea, and turning his head to catch her eyes, offered, “Want to go up the highway for a couple miles? I won’t go too far or too fast, but you seem to like riding…” he trailed off as she nodded furiously. “Alrighty, then off we go. Hold on, beautiful.”

  Stopping before he pulled onto the main road, he asked, “North or south, right or left?”

  Her hand went to her waist, and she pulled a quarter out of her pocket. “Okay, heads we go left, tails we go right,” she said as she flipped the coin and caught it deftly, calling out, “Heads.” He grinned at her quirky navigation, waited for her to slip the coin back into her pocket, and then pulled out to the left headed north.

  They rolled northward on the highway for nearly thirty minutes. Every time he glanced back, she still had that big, shit-eating grin on her face. When he figured it was time to turn around, he pulled into an empty parking lot, slowing to a stop. He felt her hands tense on his shoulders, and when he looked back, the grin was gone and she was looking down. “Ready for food, Charlotte?” he called back, watching her nod.

  Riding back towards town, he caught glimpses of that gorgeous grin occasionally. Most often th
ough, he saw her eyes were closed, chin lifted into the wind with a soft, contented smile as if she wanted to keep this as a memory to save for later. If her cousin was any indication, her pregnancy and this baby were not celebrated, and that had to be tough. She didn’t look older than eighteen, and disapproval could be harsh to deal with at any age.

  He pulled into a parking space at the restaurant, and carefully handed her off the bike. She waited and seemed puzzled when he killed the engine. “Aren’t you going to back it in?” she asked. He’d been around a lot of bikers and had noticed that some of them backed into a parking space, but a lot of them did not. It always seemed like too much trouble to him, so he usually just pulled in.

  “Nah, I’ll back it out when we’re ready to go.”

  “Okay,” she murmured.

  Clearly missing something, he asked, “You think I should I back it in, beautiful?”

  She cut her eyes up at him, saying softly, “Here, it doesn’t matter, because they aren’t busy, but it makes it easier for a passenger to get on the bike out of traffic.”

  He nodded. It made perfect sense; you didn’t back the bike up with someone riding pillion, so he started the bike again, maneuvering to back it into the space. “Thanks, I learn something new every day.”

  She put the helmet into the bag without being asked, and then stepped back to let him precede her. He looked at her baffled, then reached out and gripped her shoulder. Turning her, he moved her in front of him, placing his hand on her lower back. Moving them towards the building, he reached out and opened the door, holding it so she could enter first.

  The hostess smiled at her with genuine pleasure. “Hey, Lottie, good to see you. Two for dinner?”

  She nodded and smiled. “Hi, Erica, yeah, two.” Taking the ponytail tie out of her hair, she used her fingers to comb and smooth her rucked-up curls.

  They followed Erica to a booth, and he waited for Charlotte to sit down before sliding in beside her on the bench. She looked startled and shifted over quickly, putting distance between their legs on the seat. He lounged back, stretching his legs out across the space between the benches.