Jordan
I'm excited to see the gas tanker pull into the lot this morning. I've been learning a lot about how the business works since I've been marooned here for the last few days and I know how much money Stryker loses out on every day that those pumps are dry.
First thing's first though; while the driver fills up the gas tanks, I head out back and grab my bike. For starters, it'll give us a chance to get the pumps back on line since they've been out of commission for awhile. I'm also eager to get gas back in the bike so I can let the engine run for awhile before the battery goes dead.
I'm explaining how I got stranded here to the truck driver and he's giving me a ration of shit about how I look like Stryker's been "taking good care of" me as we head back toward the store together.
The delivery guy's telling me how bad Stryker needs a woman to keep him from going crazy out here by himself, then he corrects himself to "crazier." We're having a good laugh at Stryke's expense as we head back to the man himself standing outside the store with a grim look on his face.
"Hey man," my new buddy addresses Stryker as I slip inside the store to grab the keys to unlock the pumps.
The keys aren't where they ought to be and I realize he probably has them so I start to head back out.
"No man, she ain't staying," I hear Stryker's rough voice say, "She's just been stuck here waiting on your slow ass."
His head is down, looking at the paperwork on the clipboard as he signs off on the delivery. The driver standing almost next to Stryker, his back turned to the store so he doesn't see me standing just inside the door anymore than Stryker does.
"Don't make it sound like work, Stryke," he says with an elbow into Stryker's shoulder, "sweet little thing like that's gotta come in handy when you're holed up out here with no one to keep you company but that damn mutt."
I hear Stryker grunt and watch him hand the clipboard back over to the other guy. "You know me, Dave," I hear him say, "I ain't looking for something permanent. Besides, she's got a life of her own to get back to too, ya know."
Stryker steps off the front porch of the store and I watch Dave, I guess his name is, follow with his clipboard in hand. The two men continue talking as they head back out toward Dave's tanker truck, but it doesn't take long till I can't make out the conversation anymore.
I just stand in the store and watch them go, trying to decide how I feel about what I just overheard. I guess I should be relieved, knowing that he's not expecting me to stay.
God knows the last thing I need is some guy getting attached to me, thinking I'm going to uproot my entire life and move to the middle of nowhere to play Ma and Pa Kettle's Country Store and Gas with him.
Not that there's much to uproot, but still.
I back away from the doors and head for the indoor stairs in the back room that lead directly up to the apartment.
As long as Stryker and I are on the same page, I might as well get my shit together and pack up the bike. It's still early, if I get started in the next hour I might even make it home today.
Ninja comes barreling at me as soon as I open the door into the apartment. She's a miniature tornado of black hair, wagging tail, and wet tongue that doesn't make it easy to round up my meager belongings.
Almost all my clothes have ended up in Stryker's room, except my riding gear. I gather things up and head toward the guest room with an arm full of clothes and Ninja running circles around my shins.
I pack everything into the weather proof bag that fits on the rear rack of the bike while Ninja helps.
Actually, "helps" isn't the right word. First, she brings me a mangled tennis ball and drops it next to my feet. I toss it back into the hallway but she just looks at me.
"OK fine, don't fetch," I tell her.
A moment later I feel something drop onto my boot and I look down to find a well-chewed green duck that used to have a squeaker in it on the ground and the mournful face of a little black dog staring up at me.
"Ninja," I laugh as I bend down for her duck, "he doesn't even squeak anymore." I squeeze what's left of the toy anyway and give it a playful toss into the hallway, expecting her to go after it.
Nope. Ninja's head turns and watches the thing bounce through the doorway and then she looks back at me and rolls over with her feet in the air.
"You know I'm leaving, don't ya, pup?" I almost manage to laugh when I say it as I reach down to pet her exposed belly.
By the time I've checked the entire apartment for anything I might have forgotten and have my bag ready to go, Ninja has delivered two more of her favorite toys, a bone I've never seen before, and one of Stryker's house shoes to my feet.
"Ninj," I tell her as I pick up the shoe and carry it back to its mate beside the door, "seriously. Stop helping."
When I return from the guest room with my bag in one hand and my helmet in the other, I find Ninja laying by the door that opens to the spiral staircase that leads into the store's back room.
"Hey pup," I coo at the dejected little face that looks up at me as I squat down and give up my helmet in favor of scratching the furrowed space above her eyes, "you take good care of him, OK?"
She's such an expressive thing. Ninja answers me with a little whine and I swear her eyebrows just knitted together like she's trying to tell me it's too big a job for just one little dog.
"You were doing just fine before I showed up," I remind her as I gather up my stuff again.
I close the stairwell door on the most heartbreaking set of eyes I've ever seen, watching me from and ink-black face resting on the floor between two paws.
"You guys are going to be fine," I promise her as the door latches. "We're all going to be just fine," I mutter out loud on my way down the stairs, "just like we were before."
My words are still being spoken to Ninja even though she can't hear me anymore but I'm not sure Ninj is the one that needs to believe them.
The back room of the store isn't very big, the stairs are kind of in the middle of the room, the door to the walk in fridge to one side that accesses the coolers, the other side of the room lined with shelves that store dry goods and non perishable stuff.
Stryker has an office back here. It's filled with file cabinets, a desk that's too big for the small space, and a computer that's still on dial-up internet because this place is in the exact definition of "nowhere." He doesn't use the office much. He stays inside the store during business hours-- in that makeshift living room at the back that I noticed when I first arrived.
He says he pulled out what used to be a couple shelves of VHS movies that his aunt used to rent out. Internet may not be fast or reliable out here, but apparently Fell's Valley isn't so backwards that the 47 people who live within a 50 mile radius of the store miss the opportunity to rent a bunch of 20 year old movies.
When I walk out the glass door of the store, I see Stryker standing at the gas pump next to my bike waiting for me.
Stryker
Here she comes. I'm not sure how I feel about it-- seeing her emerge from the store carrying her bag slung over her shoulder and her helmet by the chin strap in her other hand.
She never intended to stay here and I sure as hell wasn't asking her to but she hasn't been the worst company I've ever had. It'd have been fine by me if Dave had taken a couple more days to get out here.
What the hell am I thinking?
I need the tanks full, every day they've been dry has meant regular business passing me by. I haven't just been losing out on the sales from gasoline, it's all the coffee and soda and chips and smokes that the regulars aren't picking up while they're filling up.
Business has been slim.
My eyes follow the sway of Jordan's hips as she walks my way and I feel the familiar pull as my cock strains against my jeans.
Slow days have given me a great chance to get to know every inch of that hot little body of hers, I can't say we haven't been taking full advantage of the lack of customers.
"Got everything?" I ask as s
he sets her tail bag back on the bike's rear rack and starts strapping it down.
"Yeah, I checked the place twice, I'm pretty sure I have it all," Jordan answers without looking away from her task, "I left my address and number on your desk though, so if you find anything that looks important, could you ship it to me?"
There's a lilt in her voice that I haven't heard before. Bright and eager, like she can't wait to get back on the road.
Guess I can't blame her, she's been stuck here for days with no one to talk to except me and Ninja.
Shit, Ninja's gonna miss her. That damn dog took a liking to Jordan from the beginning.
"You say goodbye to Ninj?" I ask.
Jordan doesn't answer right away and I'm pretty sure I see her jaw tighten next to her ear before she grins and shoots me a casual, "Yup, sure did. Told her to take good care of you," without looking up from where she's kneeling down, applying some gunk from a tube to the chain on the bike to lube it up.
"That dog likes you more than she likes me," I tell her. It's true too. Ninja and I have always had a love hate relationship.
Jordan opens the cap on the gas tank and waits while I fill it for her. Technically, she could handle the actual filling herself since it's a bike, but she lets me handle the gas pump while she stands back and watches me with a look on her face I haven't learned yet.
3 days. Just over 3 days is all the time I got to learn her facial expressions and so much more about her. This new look on her face tells me it wasn't long enough, there's obviously so much more to know about her.
"I'm going to miss her," Jordan finally says, meeting my eyes this time when I look up at her, "she's a good dog."
I make sure I top off her tank as high as it's safe to fill it before hanging the pump back up. Jordan tightens the gas cap back on and hits the starter on the bike.
It refuses to turn over several times and I'm a little surprised at the thrill of hope that runs through me when it looks like her battery's at least dead enough to keep her here another night while I put the charger on it.
Too bad for me and Ninja, Jordan knows how her little motorcycle works. She double checks the choke and twists the throttle while she hits the ignition button again. For a second I think Ninja's going to win, and then the bike roars to life.
"She's a pain in the ass," I mutter, mostly still talking about the dog.
Jordan leaves the bike running but steps away from the sound of the engine, "Yeah, you two don't seem like a perfect match, did you inherit her with the store?"
"Nah, someone dropped her off. She just showed up sleeping on the back landing. I don't even know how long she'd been calling my doorstep home since the only time I used those stairs before she showed up was when I went to town."
"Lucky for you, you found her."
"Lucky for me?" I ask.
Jordan and I are walking back to the store. I know it's safe to leave her bike running, but part of me can't help but hope some kid takes advantage of the key in the ignition and a full tank of gas.
I'm not sure why we're headed inside. The only thing she left in the store is the coffee mug she jacked from my apartment.
"Yes, lucky for you," she laughs as she holds the door open for me, "it can't be good for you to live out here all alone. It's good to have a little responsibility to keep you sane."
Now that makes me laugh out loud, the idea that that crazy little monster has anything to do with my sanity other than testing it!
"It's like you know a completely different dog than I do," I tell Jordan.
I stop in front of the counter and catch her off guard. She bumps into me and we stare at each other in silence like we haven't spent the last 3 days touching and tasting each other in every conceivable way.
Jordan reaches into her pocket, "I figured I oughta pay for the gas?" she says a timid voice I would never expect from her.
"I think you probably owe me more for the coffee." It's supposed to be a joke, even though it's also true, but my voice falls flat as I stare into the stormy gray eyes looking back at me.
Her mug is still sitting where she left it earlier. Her eyes dart in the direction of the coffee maker and her cheeks flush slightly as a bit of a smirk curls her lips.
"I'm kidding, Jo," I assure her, "you don't owe me anything."
Now she looks back up at me, her forehead furrowed between her eyes as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
"You sure?" she asks, "I mean, gas, coffee, food, shelter..."
"Sex," I add to the list of goods and services I've provided and I love watching the sad storminess clouding her features bloom into a wide grin.
"Yeah, I don't think it's legal to charge me for that though."
Sassy Jordan is back, giving me a light punch in the gut.
"So that's everything? You're ready to roll?" I take another look around the store, looking for anything she might have left in here.
When we've both made one last round of the place and are reasonably sure she's not leaving anything behind, I hold the door open for her and then follow her back out.
Jordan
This feels all wrong. I'm stalling for time, like I'm waiting for him to ask me to stay or something. I'm about to make an excuse to go back upstairs just so I can say goodbye to Ninja again when it dawns on me I need to pay him for the gas.
I don't know why I'm surprised that he won't let me. I don't know why I'm blushing when he adds sex to the list of things I've used him for this week.
In all fairness, he used me too. I'd say we're about even.
And that's about the end of it, isn't it? Just two lonely people using each other for a little while. Neither of us is worse off for it and now it's time to get back on the road.
Stryker has his store to run, just the way he likes it, out here in the boonies and all alone. I've got a few weeks left of clocking in and out while I pack up the apartment and figure out what to do next.
Neither of us are looking for anything serious in our lives and even if we were, it sure as hell wouldn't be each other. Not with a thousand miles between us. There'd be no point in even pretending that keeping in touch would be worth it for us.
Once I get my mind wrapped around that truth again, I feel better. It's easier to follow him out of the store and back out to where I left my bike running.
It's easy to stand on my tip toes and wrap my arms around his neck and brush my lips softly against his without giving in to the urge to linger and let my tongue tangle with his until we end up back inside again.
"Thanks for being a chick," Stryker whispers against my ear as he bends to follow me when I start to let go of him.
"Thanks for getting over being a total ass," I whisper back.
"I wouldn't say I'm over it."
His hands find my ass and squeeze gently, making it harder to bring myself to take the step away from him and pull my helmet over my head.
"You got my digits?" Stryker asks as he steps back while I swing my leg over the saddle and settle back on the bike.
I nod and give him a thumbs up with my left hand while I twist the throttle with my right just for practice.
"Let me know you're safe, K?"
It's the last thing I hear as I kick the bike into gear. Then I'm rolling out of the Fell's Valley Store parking lot and back onto the last leg of endless blacktop that's going to take me home.
I try not to spend the next 900 some miles thinking about how much it feels like I'm leaving home behind me.
It took me a long time to figure out who I was after Bryan left. I'd been with him so long, I never really got to be me. This little bike sat in the garage under a tarp for a year after he left. It took that long for me to adjust to my new lifestyle.
Living alone was an adjustment in so many ways, but once I got used to it I decided I really liked it. I love not having to ask someone's opinion before I rearrange the furniture or buy a new lamp or hang a picture. I love that I get to decide what I want to eat and when and where and
, speaking of when and where! I love that I don't have to "run it by" anyone before I make plans with friends. Or take off on a 4 thousand mile, epic motorcycle journey by myself.
Fuck Bryan.
These are the thoughts that occupy my mind for the first couple hundred miles today.
I cross the border back into California and seriously consider kissing the gas pump when I stop to refuel. Without having to go inside and have someone come out and unlock the pump for me.
I slide my credit card into the slot and enter my zip code according the prompts on the screen, lift the handle and fill my tank, careful not to over fill it.
Fuck relationships, I think as I watch the liquid flowing from the nozzle. I've been single for almost 2 years now and I'm good at it, dammit. I don't need a boyfriend, another man in my life holding me back, making me feel like I'm never enough.
I just traveled 3500 hundred miles by myself on a motorcycle! A motorcycle that most people think of as a dirt bike. I am a bad ass.
The thought keeps me smiling for almost another hundred miles, singing Born to be Wild at the top of my lungs in my helmet as I cruise down some forgotten back road toward Reno.
I'm about to cross back into California from my brief detour through Nevada, the eastern face of the Sierra Nevada mountain jutting up in front of me, still ticking off the list of reasons I'm better off single. That's when it starts.
I have a queen size bed that I don't have to share. I can sleep spread eagle in the middle if I want.
Stryker's bed was a queen size too. And I slept in the middle of it. With Stryker's warm body wrapped around mine.
The last few nights have been the best sleep I ever remember.
I don't have to share my bed with anyone, but that also means I've spent a lot of lonely nights in it with nothing but my own fingers to keep me company. And my own fingers never brought me breakfast in bed or kissed me good morning.
The road I'm traveling on winds up into the mountains and soon I'm rolling by a handful of alpine lakes and through beautiful pine forests. The afternoon air is cool and cedar scented but I can't help thinking that the trees must block a lot of the view of the sky at night.
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