Diesel

by Vivian Gray

  “Time’s up,” Knux shouts, bringing me back to the present. “I’m done waiting around for our money. The kid is clearly playing you, and you were a fucking fool to fall for it.”

  “I don’t know what Tyler is doing, but he’s sure as shit not smart enough to pull this off. Something else is going on here, Knux. I can feel it. Give him more time. Give me time to investigate.”

  “Did you hear me, Diesel? TIME IS UP. I’m done with this. The rest of the guys in the club are fed up as well. We’re not some save haven prison system. He doesn’t get amnesty because he’s stowed away in your fucking apartment. I was nice enough giving him the time he had, but now my generosity is over. He’s gonna pay for what he’s done to the Bonebags. He’s got exactly two days to get the money, or you’re bringing him in for the last time.”

  I throw my hands up in disbelief. “Fine! I’m not having any part in this. If you want that money so bad, you are more than welcome to come get him. I’m not gonna stop you. I release him from my protection.”

  Knux walks straight towards me, daring to point a finger at my chest. “It’s not that easy, Diesel. You got yourself in this mess because you were an idiot that trusted him when all the signs pointed to him screwing us over. This was your shift to watch and your kid to supervise – don’t think I haven’t forgotten that either. You chose to trust him, to vouch for him, until he made amends. Now you’re on thin ice, so I wouldn’t fucking push it with me.”

  I gulp down the rising need to reach into my back pocket and gut the guy like a fish in the market. I don’t spill blood unless necessary, and while I’d give anything to prove myself to the rest of the men in this room, I’m not giving Knux another reason to question my loyalty to the Bonebags.

  “Is that it? Is that what this meeting was supposed to be about or is there some other business I need to be here for?”

  The rest of the room look down and around – anywhere but directly at me. They’re all fucking traitors in my book. A good brother would have given his friend a warning or at least a heads up that Knux called into question my leadership and loyalty with a meeting. Instead, these bastards hid like little dogs in their beds. I’ll remember this. I swear to God, I will remember each and every one of these men.

  “Yeah, Diesel. That was it. You’re dismissed unless you got something else you want to say to me.” Knux steps towards me again, his arms outstretched.

  I do. I have about a hundred other things I want to say, starting with the need for him to chew on some breath mints, but I only nod and turn on my boots – heading back towards the door. No one follows me. They all stay in the same huddle I walked in on. Knux returns to the center while the rest gather around him. I feel their collective eyes digging daggers at my back as I walk through the two swinging doors.

  I can’t get out of there fast enough. Usually, after these meetings, I hang around and grab a drink or two with the boys at the Easy Line Bar across the street. That’s where most of the non-leaders are gathered now. I can even hear their shrieks as I start my bike.

  I’m half-tempted to stop once I pass the bar. It’s crowded with girls just delicious enough to wet my appetite. Familiar faces hang outside with their beers in hand. They wave me down, beckoning me to come inside. But a group in front of me, hanging out around a bus stop, catches my eye.

  I edge close enough to hear one of the boys shout at a girl, “You’re not from around here are you, darling? A pretty girl like you in shorts like that would know better than to cross into our territory. That is, unless you’re looking for some action?”

  “Leave me alone!” a familiar voice shouts. “I’m waiting for my bus!”

  I bring my bike to a complete stop and leap off as soon as it comes to me; I know that honey-smooth voice.

  “Oh, come on now, lady. We’re just having a bit of fun. Show us your fun side. We promise it’s worth it.”

  “Yeah. Baby girl, you know you want to take a ride. I’ve got plenty of happy customers if you want some references?”

  “Get off of me!” she shouts even louder. I watch her attempt to smack away Ace and Gunner, who practically have their hands down the front of her shorts.

  “Get your fucking hands off of her,” my voice thunders over the small crowd, “or I’ll cut them off myself!”

  The three men surrounding the girl back away immediately. Their faces go white as they stare up at me.

  Blanche, on the other hand, smiles.

  Chapter Five

  Blanche

  I don’t like motorcycles.

  No. I take that back.

  I fucking HATE motorcycles.

  It’s a sin for me to say that – I know. My dad was always a big rider. He owned at least five or six Harleys when we were young. Every weekend was spent working on his collection, caring for them like they were our siblings. We learned how to care for them, clean them, and work them. What he never did teach us was how to drive them. It was off-limits to even bring it up, though Tyler begged for months after he got his driver’s license to be taught. I saw the looks my dad shot him – the kind you don’t question – and I knew better.

  A nasty accident along the frontage roads sealed the deal. My dad lost what he called “the spirit” and sold off nearly all his collection. The only one that remained hidden in the back of the garage was a red and chrome vintage Harley his dad had owned before him. The last time I was back there, the motorcycle had been cleaned and cared for. I didn’t think much about it then, but now I realize that he still dreamed of passing it on to his own son one day.

  For me, though, riding a motorcycle never appealed to me. In fact, even when my dad was the best driver, being on the back of the motorcycle was uncomfortable and loud, and I always walked away with a mouthful of bugs and a pounding headache that weighed on me for days.

  But when Diesel stretches his long arm towards me and offers me a ride on his cycle, I don’t see the bruises that dotted my dad’s face as he laid in a hospital room. I don’t hear my brother’s pleas to ride the bike “just once.” I don’t envision my mother begging my dad to give it up and sell the damn thing.

  All I see is Diesel through the rain, his arm outstretched towards me, beckoning me. And I can’t say no. I can’t say anything. I nod, grab my small travel bag, and follow him through the rain towards his parked bike.

  He leaps on first, with no trouble, then waits for me to mount it. My bare thighs curve around the awkward shape of the bike as my arms wrap around his waist. I lean forward and close my eyes. The rain beats down on my head like a relentless drum beat. I try to smother myself into his jacket to protect myself, but the gush of air pulls me back.

  I will myself to watch as he speeds around the sharp turns of the city. He throws the bike through red lights and stop signs. We peer around parked buses and turning cabs. Heads turn our way, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t seem to even care. He drives on with me holding him in my death grip.

  My chest presses even tighter into Diesel as I say a silent prayer that I made the right choice trusting him. I don’t know this man – outside of him being my brother’s roommate, of sorts. I only know that when I’m with him, he makes every hair on my body stand up on end. I know that when I am riding with him, something within the pit of my stomach fires up and attempts to start like a stuck key in an old ignition.

  He never stops to ask where I want to go – not that I have an answer for that. The bus home to Illinois is another four or five hours away. But with little money on me, staying a night at a hotel or wasting time at a restaurant or store is impossible. My only options are to follow where he brings me and play along. Play it safe. If I can keep my cool around him, I can wait it out and get back to the bus stop safely and with my dignity intact.

  I’m surprised when we pull up to his apartment. For some reason, this was the last place I thought he would want to take me, with my brother saying what he said. My nerves peak as Diesel parks and gets off.

  He holds out his hand aga
in to me and says, “Come on. The rain ain’t gonna stop any time soon. I’m not about to stand around here and get soaked because you’re too chickenshit to go upstairs.”

  “He doesn’t want me here,” I mumble, the rain trickling down my hair and lips. I brush away the strands stuck to the side of my face.

  Diesel smiles down at me slightly, the lone street light flickering against his tan skin. “I don’t care; you’re my guest.”

  “But—” I begin to blubber, the weight of the situation coming to me in one long wave of pain. “I can’t go… I can’t go in there.”

  “Listen. I don’t give a fuck what you do, but I’m going upstairs. If you want to wait around here, I’d caution you to stay the hell away from the bar unless you want a repeat of what was happening at the bus stop. The club usually drinks there and then heads here once they’ve bought the first bar out.”

  I swallow the rock stuck in my throat and push out a deep sigh. No, I don’t want to relive that experience again. I am used to boys throwing themselves at me in some stupid attempt to get into my pants, but I can only handle one or two at a time. An entire group of drunken idiots… I don’t have a choice, really. It’s Diesel’s home with Tyler or certain danger.

  “Okay, but—”

  “Will you just shut up?!”

  Before I can protest, he grabs me and scoops me up into his arms. Picking me up off of the ground is like nothing to him. I float at least six feet in the air, bouncing gently with each of his steps up the stairs and across the porch. The music from the bar downstairs echoes and trembles the building, but once he’s shut us inside his apartment, everything stops. The place is dead silent – besides the hum of the older kitchen appliances.

  “Tyler!” Diesel shouts. His face transforms from smug and self-assured to something more frantic. He goes through the small apartment, repeating Tyler’s name. “Where the fuck are you, you bastard!?”

  “He probably went out,” I say quietly. I mean, what’s the big deal? He’s a grown man. I’m sure he wants to go out on a Friday night. Maybe he’s downstairs at the bar or out working?

  Diesel looks me over, his eyes narrowing. “Do you know where your idiot brother went? Was this part of something – some plan?”

  “Part of something? A plan? You think I know where he is? You saw what happened out there. He wants nothing to do with me. And I – I shouldn’t be here right now. He’d kill you if he found out that you brought me back.”

  Diesel scoffs, seeming almost amused at my threat. “I’d like to see the damn fool try. But if he doesn’t get back soon, someone in this apartment is going to be dead. I told him before he wasn’t to leave, and now he’s gone and done exactly what I warned him against. The fucking dipshit’s gonna get caught. I fucking know it.”

  I gulp back the questions I’m longing to ask. I don’t want to know any more than I already do. Whatever relationship is going on between him and my brother, I’ll let it lie. Me upsetting the balance by being here is risky enough. Changing the subject sounds like a much better option.

  “Do you have a towel or something? I need to dry off.” I try not to imagine his thin, toned waist wrapped in the barely-there white towel. My mouth goes dry.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Go ahead – go take a shower.”

  “A shower?” I ask, an eyebrow raised. “I don’t need a shower. I’m only wet.”

  “Yeah,” he mutters as he takes a few long steps towards me.

  His hand reaches out. I want to back away, but I find myself stuck in place. I feel his warm breath against my shivering skin, and I can make out every mark that dots his face and neck. His dark eyes glitter almost playfully. My mouth opens wide as he squats down, a hand brushing against my naked calf, grabbing the muscle in the wideness of his palm.

  “You’re covered in dirt from the ride,” he whispers.

  He leans back on his heels and holds up the hand that grabbed onto me. It’s covered in black and gray streaks of dirt. I look down at my pair of flats to see the damage – mud and grime stain my skin, covering me from toe to thigh. My arms, as well, look as if they’ve been thrown through a pile of mud.

  Diesel flashes a grin as he stands and turns. Over his shoulder, he says, “I’ll turn the water on for you. The hot can be tricky to control.”

  “I’m not going in there with you,” I warn him.

  He paces into the bathroom a few meters away. “I didn’t tell you to, did I?” he yells through the sound of the water clicking on. He peeks his head around the side of the door and adds, “Though, now that you mention it…”

  I take a deep breath and remind myself of where I am and who I am with. Diesel only shows me respect when I am self-assured. I can’t play the “weak flower” to his “monster with an attitude”. I pick up my backpack and force myself to stride past him with my wet hair flapping behind me. With him watching, I kick off my dirty shoes before entering the bathroom.

  “You’ve got soap and everything?” I ask as I dig through my pack for the rest of my ‘overnight’ supplies. There’s not much, but it’ll make me decent. I leave the rest of the backpack outside the door.

  “Yeah. It’s all in there.”

  “Great. Thanks. I’ll be out shortly.”

  “Take your time, princess.”

  He bows wickedly before me as I slam the door closed. I can’t lock it quick enough. The sound of it clicking into place is the only sense of relief I’ve had since I got on the back of his motorcycle.

  It’s only when I’m in the hot water that the rest of my body begins to relax as well. I let the water and time pass over me as the room fills with steam. There’s simply nothing better than a long, warm shower to make one feel better about their situation.

  I could stay in here forever. Or maybe just the next four hours while I wait for my bus home to arrive. I’m sure Diesel won’t mind if I hang around in this locked room away from him. He clearly has other things on his mind as he storms through the apartment. Even with the water running, I hear him yelling at another person, maybe my brother, on the phone.

  But as soon as I decide to stay, it dawns on me that I have zero clean clothes. The shorts and blouse I wore today are soaked through and caked in mud. My backpack is just as wet – with all the backup outfits inside equally as wet. If I’m going to go home in anything but my birthday suit, I have to ask Diesel for one last favor of finding a washing machine and dryer before it’s time to leave again.

  I turn the water off and ring my hair out before stepping out onto the white tile floor. I use my hand to wipe away the steam from the mirror and begin working on making myself presentable. There’s a small towel sitting in one of the drawers, and I use it to wrap and dry my thick hair. I use the rest of my supplies to lotion my dry, cracked skin and put perfume on to cover the smell of Diesel and Tyler’s collection of manly-smelling soap and shampoo.

  But when I go to grab a towel for the rest of my body, I’m at a loss. Shit! There’s not a towel in the entire damn bathroom save for the wash towel hanging around my hair. I call out Diesel’s name as loud as I can. When he doesn’t answer, I resort to opening the door a crack and trying again. Nothing. Goddammit! I stick my soaking head out and call, but all I get back is the sound of driving rock music coming from somewhere in the kitchen or dining room area.

  A bedroom somewhat across from the bathroom is open just enough so I can see in. On the bed, I can make out the outline of the towel that I’m sure was tied around Diesel’s waist earlier. If I can manage to sneak in, grab the towel, and make it back to the bathroom without being seen, I could save myself some dignity. If not, I’m stuck in here with wet hair, dirty clothes, and not a chance of not being seen.

  Dammit, I’ve got to give it a try.

  My arms wrap around my breasts and hips as I tiptoe quietly across the wood-planked floors. They squeak slightly under my weight, but it’s only a few more steps. I pass through the bedroom door and step into the large master bedroom. It’s almost half the size of the
apartment itself with cream-white painted walls and a large four-poster bed with black sheets and a comforter.

  I’m just about to reach for the towel when I hear the squeak of the floor behind me. “You stealing from me? I’m going to have to punish you for that.” His unnaturally low voice rumbles, sending chills through me.

  “No. There wasn’t… I needed a…”

  He steps into the bedroom with his hands deep in the pockets of his still wet jeans. The black T-shirt clings to his girthy body. He moves to me again. “You were stealing from me.”

  I gulp down the fear. “No. I needed a—”

  “This?” He leans over me, his upper body grazing my chest. My nipples turn erect at the slightest touch of his cold shirt. From behind, he picks the towel up off the bed and waves it just above my head. “You need this?”

  “Yes. Please,” I manage to squeak out.

  I reach slightly for it, knowing that he wants me to expose myself. He pulls the towel further away, but he isn’t smiling. His pink tongue slowly traces his bottom lip and the vein on his neck tenses against his taut skin.