Bikers and Pearls

by Vicki Wilkerson

  April wasn’t about to lie to her best friend, but she wasn’t going to answer her, either. The grief she would get would go on and on, and April simply didn’t have time for that right now. Bull was probably already there. From what she’d already seen of him, he was pretty reliable and punctual—like Jenna.

  “Sweetie, I wish I had time right now to talk, but I’m making fliers for that charity thing for Ben. And I’m late.” She saw the concern in Jenna’s eyes. The same concern she’d seen when they were seven and Jenna stayed by her bedside. Jenna had talked and talked and talked—until April came out of her silence.

  Jenna put her glasses back on and took one long, last look at April. “Okay, I’m gone. But call me when you get back in. You can’t be too careful after last night. We still need to talk.”

  April gave her friend a quick hug and closed the door. She glanced at her watch. She was really late now. Frantically, she darted to her bedroom to get her purse and keys. After she glanced in the mirror, she took off the pearls and raced the berry lipstick over her lips once more to punch up the color. There.

  She stared at her image. Ever since college, she’d only been on a handful of dates. Each one more boring than the last. As her expectations dwindled, so did her attempts at trying to dress to impress anyone. But look at her now. The only problem was that she wasn’t even going on a date.

  At her front door, she checked her bag. Cell phone, binder, money. As she touched the doorknob she froze. Maybe she would slip into those look-at-me shoes again. She kicked off the clogs and slid her feet back into her designer heels.

  We’ll just see what happens.

  …

  Bull waited at the computer he had confiscated for his and April’s work. He checked his watch again. The woman was only five minutes late. Why was he thinking that she wasn’t going to show up? Because he knew she was apprehensive of him and his past. That was why. But as he was about to swing back around in his seat, he saw her.

  And wow. She hardly looked like the same April. Put a leather jacket on her, and this woman would look real nice sitting on the back of his Harley—or anybody else’s for that matter. She was really something. Appeared like she belonged on the pages of one of those fashion magazines instead of Business Week like she’d looked earlier.

  He stood up and raised his hand to signal. Good. She saw him.

  “Hi,” she said, keeping her distance. She clutched a thin notebook to her chest—as if to protect herself. Why is she so guarded?

  He had a strange urge to touch her in some way—to shake her hand or give her a hello hug. He didn’t know. Something more than “Hi.”

  “I brought along some ideas,” she said and held out the binder.

  “So did I.” He pointed to the computer. “I brought my flash drive from home. It’s all loaded.” He looked around to get a chair for her, grabbed one from the table behind them, and placed it at a slight distance from his own seat at the computer.

  “Okay,” he said, clicking on the icons on the screen. “This is what I was thinking.”

  What he was really thinking was how beautiful she was and how sweet the fragrance was that drifted from the air around her. He hadn’t seen her in lipstick and heels. Heels and jeans. Jeans and—well, everything about her looked flirty and hot. He hadn’t thought it possible that those words could ever be used to describe her—Miss Risk Assessment Manager.

  He’d better keep his mind on the task at hand and not her brown eyes and swinging hair. “How ’bout this for an initial advertisement?” He showed her the graphics he had worked on earlier in the day.

  She leaned in toward the screen, and her hair swung forward. She glanced at him.

  “Wow,” she said as she slowly placed her notebook on the floor, keeping her gaze on the screen. “That’s excellent. Look at the detail. You’re very talented.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I have a couple more I wanted you to look at.” He pulled up the others and leaned back to give her room.

  She moved her seat closer to the screen and closer to him. “These are great. They look like they were done by a professional graphic artist.”

  He smiled. If things hadn’t worked out so that he could buy the Hickory Street Garage, he may have become a graphic artist. It was the first time he felt anything positive coming his way from her. At first, he thought she’d never be able to see past his bomber jacket. And he hadn’t really cared—until now. At this moment, it seemed very important that she admired his work.

  She turned her head toward the screen again and he watched as her sandy hair brushed over her small shoulders.

  “Let’s see your ideas,” he said.

  Not bothering to turn around, she said, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I love what you’ve done. You’re very talented on the computer…and with graphic design, you know.” She smiled. “So, how’d you get so good?”

  “Years ago, I took some classes,” he said.

  “I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.” She closed her eyes and smiled.

  “Didn’t think I did, either. My little brother, Adam, had inherited the art-and-music gene. I was only competent with numbers and machines—until the classes.”

  “Well, I did get the music thing, though,” she said. “I’m actually helping my neighbor give Ben lessons.” Her eyes lit up. Then an expression of sadness covered her face. “That is—until he got sick,” she said. “It’s very important to me to help raise money for Ben and his family.”

  “Me, too. He reminds me of Adam.” Something lodged in his chest and he glanced away. “Adam’s gone now. Died when we were kids.”

  April placed her hand on his arm. He drew in a difficult breath and observed her fingers. It had been so long since he’d felt that kind of touch from anyone.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she looked though a liquid veil over her eyes.

  He couldn’t believe he’d just revealed the truth of Adam to her. Few people knew about how the tragic events around Adam had colored so much of his life.

  He touched her hand and smiled. The easiness of being with her and talking to her surprised him.

  She gazed at their stacked hands for a moment, and then turned her face toward his. Oh, man. What was going on?

  She must have sensed it, too, because she turned to the screen and unlocked their stare.

  They had work to get done. He leaned in toward the screen as well, his arm brushing against hers. She didn’t pull back. “What if we changed this?” he asked, typing and moving things around on the monitor almost at the speed of light.

  “That’s even better,” she said and smiled. Their arms remained pressed against one another.

  Her lipstick brightened her smile, and her lips were so close to his that he had this ridiculous urge to kiss her—to sample her lipstick to see if it tasted like raspberries—the exact color of her mouth.

  The situation was getting comfortably uncomfortable, and he wanted to do something about it—to take it up a notch, to reach for her hand or put his arm around her shoulder or something. He liked the way it all felt. He liked the way she smiled at him, and he liked the way she looked at his side. He liked everything.

  “April?” a voice from behind them called out.

  They both jumped and wheeled around at the same time. Their knees tangled in their turn, and his arm automatically moved to support April’s back.

  A serious look came over the face of the young woman who stood a few feet away as she asked, “Is everything okay?”

  April looked at Bull, then again toward the young woman who was nervously adjusting her navy cardigan. “Everything’s fine, Jenna. What are you doing here?” she asked in an almost inaudible voice.

  “I forgot to give you the Ladies League application I had brought to your condo earlier.” She held out some papers.

  April stood. “Excuse me for one minute,” she said to Bull and walked a few paces away with her friend’s elbow in hand.

  Jenna’s mouth m
oved rapidly, but the only thing Bull could hear was “Rebel Angels” and “bikers.” April glanced over her shoulder at Bull, and Jenna looked in his direction, too. He could tell that whatever slight connection he had felt with April a few moments earlier had slipped away. He was definitely not on any approved list of men to be hanging out with. And Missy, Prissy Jenna—or whatever her name was—had spelled it all out to April.

  Maybe it was for the best. Jenna had brought April an application to the Ladies League. They were nothing but a bunch of social-climbing young women who wanted to follow in the footsteps of their elite predecessors. Why would April want to belong to them? The same bunch of women who’d ostracized his mother when she’d come to live with him right before she’d passed? The only thing his mom had wanted to do was to leave behind some of her favorite family recipes with the group to include in their stupid, old cookbook. But they had a list of hoops and challenges that his mom couldn’t make it through to belong to their club. They could have simply taken her recipes and let her die knowing that they’d live on for others to enjoy. No harm done.

  They were obviously a gang of mean girls—all grown up. He shook his head. If that was the kind of gang April wanted to belong to…well, they had less in common than it had first appeared.

  Bull turned from the computer and stared as April walked her friend to the door. April stood and watched her friend—probably to see that she got into her car safely.

  Then April paused at the front desk as a mother and her young daughter walked toward the shelves with the books that were on the counter. April stopped the pair and brought them back. She reached into her jeans pocket and took out some money and handed it to the librarian.

  The small girl beamed at April.

  She started walking in his direction.

  April pulled her chair away from him and gave him one of those fake smiles that strangers gave to one another. He should have known. She was just like all the rest. Her intense talk with Jenna had transformed her from the way she’d been with him earlier.

  Well, he’d had enough of her kind. He wasn’t about to change anything—not even for her. No matter how intriguing or cute she was. Or how kind she was to little girls in libraries.

  She started gathering her things.

  “You got to go?” he asked, knowing her answer.

  She nodded. “Soon,” she said.

  He took one last breath of her fragrance. Which was far weaker now that she was almost sitting across the room from him. It was probably for the best. He was tired after working on the fliers all afternoon. He didn’t even feel like needling her. Now, he wanted to get home, too. In fact, he wished he hadn’t even ridden his Harley to the library. Should have driven his Cadillac Escalade to avoid the cold and the wind. “I was hoping we could finish the fliers together. Tonight,” he said.

  “There are things that you don’t know,” she said.

  “So, you’re giving up on the rally? Ben, too, huh?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not. I was going to try to help with the golf tournament they are having in—”

  He cut her off. “I tried pointing it out last night.” He gathered his thoughts. “All those other fundraisers will bring in a couple hundred dollars each. That’s good, but we have a chance to bring in thousands. Maybe even tens of thousands. Even so, you can’t get over a couple of leather jackets and a few ponytails?” He paused. “I guess I was wrong, but I thought there was more to you. I thought you really cared. Deeply. About Ben. I thought that was why you stayed with us in the first place.”

  “I do care. I told you. You wouldn’t—”

  “Well, why don’t you stay with us then?” He paused. “We need you.”

  “Why? I’ve done nothing more than be a glorified note taker.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about today. The other bikers and I can put this whole rally together, but we need you to get us a deal on some extra liability insurance—mostly for the rides we’ll be giving. The town won’t let us have the rally without it. But we need the numbers by tomorrow night. We’re meeting at Marvin’s Bait and Tackle at seven. They’re holding the back room open for us.”

  She looked toward the door.

  He had his answer.

  “Hey,” he said, “why don’t I finish this up alone? You can leave if you like.”

  She glanced around the library. The building was nearly empty because it was almost time for the doors to close. “Why don’t you let me get copies made of the first one we finished? Then you can work on the changes we discussed for the others,” she said.

  Bull sent the copy to the one printer that was shared by all the computers. He reached into his pocket to give her the money for the copies.

  “I’ve got enough for them,” she said.

  “No. I insist. Here.” He handed her some bills. “We need lots. I want to take care of this for Ben.”

  She took the money and walked away.

  Away. That was what he needed—to get away, too.

  He had been confused. She had helped that little girl at the counter, and she said she wanted to help Ben, but April wanted to help in her comfort zone. She wasn’t willing to risk anything. She was from one world. And he was from another.

  The two of them were not going to happen.

  …

  April kept checking her watch as she made the copies. Never before had she seen such a slow copier.

  “We’re closing in three more minutes,” the librarian said as she pushed a cart against the wall.

  April knew that. In fact, she had already seen the security guard leave. Maybe he’d be standing outside or securing the perimeter of the library. The building was in the old part of town—the part that had burned. After the accident, the Rebels wanted revenge against her father, so they set fire to his old hardware store, just a couple blocks down the road from the library. The fire department was too small to handle the blaze that quickly spread to the adjacent buildings, and much of the town went up in smoke. And when it was all over, they discovered not everyone had the insurance to rebuild like her father. She had spent years working on the guilt that she’d irrationally developed as a child. Guilt about the damaged buildings, about this area turning into the bad side of town, about their neighbors being left without businesses and incomes. About all the pain that ensued. It really hadn’t been her fault at all.

  Fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven copies.

  She remembered Jenna’s words.

  “How do you ever expect to get the votes you need to join me at the Ladies League? This was supposed to be your chance to work with them. On top of that, April, what you’re doing here is dangerous. You don’t even know that guy.”

  She shook her head. Jenna had some valid points. April didn’t know Bull. Not completely. She could, however, remind Jenna how he’d helped her out at the steakhouse and how he was helping Ben, but she couldn’t tell her that she was attracted to him. The problem was, if she stayed with the bikers, she didn’t know when she would have another chance to work with the ladies from the club.

  The librarian, who was about her mother’s age, walked up behind April and touched her sleeve. “Are you the Church’s daughter?”

  “Yes, I am,” she said.

  “I haven’t seen you since…well, it’s been a while,” she said.

  “I don’t make it over to this side of town much,” April said and gave a polite smile.

  The older woman seemed to search for words. “Honey, I’m glad you came back. You know that fire was a long time ago.”

  April nodded. It was this kind of blindsiding that kept April on her guard. The woman was trying to do something generous, but it wasn’t helping. April had felt so alienated as a child after the accident and the fire. Her family had been connected to something awful.

  That was the big reason April wanted to join Jenna at the Ladies League. The league was a small-town Southern tradition. If April could join, it would mean that she would belong there—really
belong there. Even if no one else held the chaos against her, April was scarred. Being a part of the Ladies League would help heal that broken piece deep inside her.

  “Don’t be a stranger, dear. Our library welcomes you,” the woman said and smiled.

  April nodded. But small towns had long memories. Though her parents had healed somewhat after retiring and escaping Summerbroook, the accident and fire still haunted them. If her father ever found out about her involvement—with the rally and with Bull—well, it just might be the thing that would cause him to have that fourth heart attack—one that he couldn’t survive. If she lost him now, her picture-perfect dream might never materialize. Sitting with them under one of the big trees in their yard, sipping sweet tea. With a man she loved. With a man her parents knew was perfect for her. Who made her perfectly happy. Humph. Though it didn’t look like that was ever going to happen, it was fun to daydream about it.

  Ninety-nine, she counted. One second, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten seconds. One hundred copies. That was enough for the night. If they needed more she’d come back tomorrow.

  The glaring fluorescent lights went out in a grid pattern all across the library, starting from the rear. Had Bull left yet? Now it was too dark to tell. There were several exits, and she had been babysitting that dilapidated, old copy machine. She grabbed the last of the pages and headed toward the door in the dim light that was left.

  “Have a nice evening, and, remember, come back,” the librarian said in a soft voice as April opened the door.

  She nodded at the older woman.

  Once outside, April shivered. The parking lot was close to empty and almost dark, except for the streetlight that was flickering over her car and the old minivan parked next to her. There was no sign of any security guard. She opened her door, slipped in, and locked herself inside. And it was she who’d delivered those personal safety pamphlets at work. Now she was breaking all the rules.

  As she was securing the copies on the seat next to her, she saw the librarian hop into the minivan, back out, and leave.

  April was alone. Jenna would not have approved. April herself didn’t approve. She went places at night by herself all the time. Just not on this side of town. Something gave her the creeps, and as soon as she turned the key in the ignition, her breath caught in her throat. The engine made a complaining noise. She tried the key again and got a series of clicks. She placed her head on her steering wheel. Who was she going to call at this hour?