by Bijou Hunter
“What could happen?”
I heard the annoyance in his voice. When I focused my gaze on him, I found a frown where a smirk once rested.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re in high school.”
“You’re not.”
Kirk smiled again. “No, I’m not.”
“Were you a good student back then?”
“Yeah, a real ace.”
“I bet you won every spelling bee and always had an apple for your teacher.”
“It was pretty long ago, but that sounds about right.”
“Is your memory failing?”
“Hearing too,” he said, leaning forward. “You’ll have to speak up.”
I inhaled the scent of his rich cologne. Bad move! Between the scent and his warm breath on my skin, I shivered noticeably. Kirk would have to be blind not to notice. Despite his old age shtick, I knew he caught my reaction.
“Are you a good student?” he asked in a voice betraying his interest in more than my grades.
“I want to be, but I’m not smart enough.”
“Why would you want to be a bookworm?” he asked, stepping back and inhaling sharply.
“I don’t want to end up living in a trailer park for the rest of my life.”
“Big plans, princess?”
Kirk sounded angry about me wanting more. I wasn’t sure how to feel about his irritation.
“I don’t want to live on welfare and charity drives. Are those big plans?”
His expression softened as much as such a rough face could. I studied the creases around his eyes. His tanned skin tempted me to touch it until my fingers refused to listen to reason. They reached up and caressed his stubbled cheek.
Kirk’s dark eyes hypnotized me, and I couldn’t pull away my hand.
“Are you looking for trouble, little girl?” he asked, suddenly stepping out of my reach and sitting in the chair again. “Is that why you and Barbie are here?”
“She wants to make her boyfriend jealous,” I blurted out, feeling dizzy without him close.
“What about you?”
“I wanted to see you.”
Kirk watched me for a minute and then nodded. “Good call.”
Even terrified, I forced my feet to move until I stood where he rocked in the chair.
“What do you do here?” I asked, crossing my arms again.
“None of your business,” he growled.
I smiled at his tone. “Are you the boss?”
Kirk shared my smile, but I noticed he was tense. In fact, he seemed angry with me. I instantly got angry about him being angry.
“Is that what you want?” he asked. “The guy who calls the shots?”
“No. I want whatever you are.”
Kirk lifted an eyebrow at how I challenged him. “What do you think will happen here, Jodi?”
Summoning all of my strength, I held his gaze and said the words, “You’ll worship me.”
Kirk let out a laugh. He didn’t sound angry anymore, but I wasn’t sure if his laughter was meant to mock me.
“I can see that,” he said finally. “If you were a few years older, I might bow down this very fucking second. But you’re not so I won’t.”
“No, I guess you won’t.”
His dark eyes were so rich like the expensive chocolates I stole from the mall’s candy store. All of the best things were that color, I suspected.
“Not yet anyway,” Kirk said, standing up.
His gaze focused on someone behind me. “Is that a friend of yours?”
I turned to see Kristi’s slap-happy boyfriend nearly running toward the bar. His face was beet red and his hands already in fists. I didn’t know who Carvin planned to hit, but Kristi made a run for it.
Kirk stood on the porch steps, looking amused by the squawking Kristi did as she ran back toward the trailer park. I joined him, wondering if I should follow my friend. Carvin looked at the biker Kristi had been talking to and then he focused his glare on me.
“You’re always talking girls into being sluts,” he accused.
“Fuck off!” I yelled without thinking. “If you weren’t such an asshole, she wouldn’t want to run around on you.”
Too angry not to hit someone, Carvin made a move for me. Kirk stepped off the porch.
“Son, I’m not in the mood to dig a shallow grave,” he calmly said.
“Then get out of the way. You won’t want that whore anyway. She’s all talk and no action. Won’t put out even if you beg.”
“Then she isn’t much of a whore, is she?” Kirk said, walking slowly toward Carvin. “If I hit you, you’re not walking away easy.”
“You’d be doing the world a favor by killing him,” I said, still pissed about Carvin calling me a whore. “No one would miss his ugly ass.”
Kirk glanced back at me and shook his head at my goading. Even though he didn’t see Carvin rush our direction, Kirk had no trouble landing a punch to the younger man’s jaw. I swore I saw teeth fly out of the asshole’s mouth.
Dropping on the ground, Carvin screamed in pain. Kirk looked at the other bikers.
“You were flirting with the girl. You finish this.”
“Shallow grave?” the biker asked Kirk.
My hero glanced back at me and considered the question. “No, just make it harder for him to cause trouble.”
The other guys dragged a crying Carvin behind the club while Kirk stepped onto the porch where I waited.
“You’re a troublemaker.”
“He called me a whore.”
“That he did,” Kirk said, caressing my cheek. “Did you want him to die?”
“I really wouldn’t have cared either way. Kristi is a shitty friend, but Carvin busts her upside the head a lot.”
“I don’t like hitting women. You know why?”
“They hit back?” I asked.
Kirk smiled. “No, they cry.”
“Carvin’s crying.”
“Yeah and that’s why I don’t like hitting pussies either.”
“What would I have to do to make you hit me?”
Kirk considered my question. “Try to set me on fire. Or bury me alive. I wouldn’t sit still for that shit.”
“But slapping you around or stealing your heart would be non-hitting offenses,” I teased, nearly laughing.
“I’m tough. I could take you kicking my ass.”
“I’d probably cheat.”
“Oh, no doubt about that,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him off the porch. “I’ll walk you home.”
I paced myself and passed three trailers before speaking. “I want you to know that if Carvin got the upper hand with you, I would have jumped in and saved you.”
“Without your bat?”
“I would have used your rocking chair as a weapon.”
Laughing, Kirk reached over and played with my loose hair. He didn’t turn the touch into anything more, though.
We stopped in front of my trailer where inside Robin blasted Bon Jovi.
“You behave until you’re old enough for me to worship.”
“I promise nothing,” I said, hating to leave his side.
Kirk might have heard the sadness in my tone. He reached out and softly brushed my cheek with his thumb.
“I’d say something to fix the look on your face, but I don’t know what that something might be.”
I nodded. “Thanks for talking to me.”
Kirk stepped back. “I’m glad you came by and entertained me, but you probably shouldn’t do that again. The club isn’t safe.”
My heart wouldn’t let me nod at his warning. I needed to see Kirk again. He was too special in a world full of crap. I didn’t know how long it would take, but I would know everything there was to know about Kirk.
3 - Kirk
Sunday mornings changed once I got older. I wasn’t sure exactly when it happened. I woke one Sunday without a hangover or a strange woman in my bed. I got up earlier and drank coffee rather than chasing
my last buzz. I stood in the cold morning and thought about the forty-two years that led to that moment.
I never wanted much from life. My parents couldn’t raise me. I ended up shuffled between relatives who didn’t want me either. Once I was old enough, I got stuck in juvenile hall where I finally fit. I met people who later hired me for work that made me solid money. Years passed, and I stumbled onto the Chesterfield Vandals. They were a young, bratty club full of boys playing men. I was like their fucking dad, but I wouldn’t have been proud of a single one of them if they really were my kids.
After I lost interest in drinking and started waking up sober on Sundays, I got handed the job of tracking down my club brothers from wherever the booze and drugs finally dropped them. Most were around the Bounce House strip joint where we did our business. I usually found Jimmy in the parking lot, half under a car. Toby often crawled into someone’s truck bed before crashing. Anyone not at the Bounce House was likely in the Princess Farms Trailer Park next door to the club.
Sunday mornings were probably the only times the park wasn’t rocking a Morton Downey, Jr. Show vibe with unsupervised kids, drunken arguments, and blasting TVs. Whenever I got nostalgic for my childhood, I took a ride through Princess Farms and saw the lack of parental attention.
Sometimes, the bullshit got to me like when I intervened with a stoned mom wailing on her kid. No doubt she returned to beating the shit out of him as soon as I drove off. There was no fixing what was wrong with the trailer park. The only solution was to burn it down and hope something worthwhile came from its ashes.
Everything about Princess Farms pissed me off until I caught sight of a pajama-wearing Jodi swinging her bat at a wasted Gordy. The chick raged on him, and I nearly burst into laughter. I knew how she felt. These younger guys in the Chesterfield Vandals Motorcycle Club often made me homicidal.
They didn’t know how to keep their asses focused. The cops in Chesterfield were a joke, but they weren’t the only law enforcement assholes keeping an eye on us or the Memphis outfit pulling our strings. If I were in charge, our operations would run tighter and leaner. More work, fewer parties. Except I wasn’t in charge, and I didn’t see the benefit of taking on the pressure. Not with these guys or in this town.
I’d done my time as the guy with the plan. A decade earlier, I worked ugly jobs for powerful men in Memphis. I made connections, and I could have moved up in the organization. That life didn’t interest me. Fancy fucking cars and playing handshake with other assholes wasn’t nearly as fun as riding hogs and enjoying a hot afternoon with a cold beer.
Pressure was for other men. I wasn’t a follower, but I sure as hell didn’t want to be a leader. Hell, I didn’t want much of anything those days. Life was stable.
Then I looked into the pissed-off blue eyes of a raging teenager and wanted someone I shouldn’t have. Someone I couldn’t have yet knew was mine. This chick was it for me, and I didn’t even know her name.
Her eyes were clear of drugs and alcohol. What I was witnessing was pure, righteous indignation. She had a temper and a solid swing with her bat. When she stood up to me, I knew she was full of shit. Fuck! She was so completely overflowing with shit, but she challenged me anyway. How in the hell could I not want this woman even if she was barely past being a kid?
Reality ensured I was already backtracking on my instant lust for the blonde by the time I left my card with her. Jodi was too young I told myself. An hour later, I was convinced I was ready to wait five years until she was old enough to deal with a man like me.
Five years were nothing to a man my age. I could wait while she grew up. I’d let her mature and experience life. Not experience men, of course. She’d need to stay away from them because only one man would do. I wondered if she was sitting in her trailer thinking about me and knowing I’d claimed her. Probably not. She was likely scared that one of the club guys planned to take away her bat and make her publicly pay for embarrassing Gordy.
She surprised me by showing up at the club and then surprised me again by challenging me. When I hurt the asshole, she didn’t even blink. Jodi was made of tough stuff, and I needed a strong woman. Her courage made me even more willing to wait for however long it took.
Whether Jodi sensed this truth, our paths were headed in the same direction. I was a patient man when I needed to be, and I needed Jodi. I could do five years in my fucking sleep.
4 - Jodi
The trailer got so hot sometimes that every old, vile stain in the place awoke, and the smell spread. I tried to ignore it all and disappear in my books, but there was no escape on that blazing hot Thursday. Everything was too fucking loud, ugly, and noxious.
In the living area, Mom laughed with one of her boyfriends. Terry was a trucker who stopped by whenever in town. I knew she really liked him. I also knew he was married and probably had a few other losers who liked him in the other nothing towns he passed by. Her laughter made me sad. I loved the fool of a woman, but her life was a fucking mess, and she didn’t care.
Sadness never felt right while rage provided invigorating warmth. When I got too sad, I started worrying about the future. Was I a few decades away from being the joke in the next room? How long before I laughed for any man who showed me the least bit of attention?
Leaving the trailer, I was desperate for a quiet place to read. I considered using my search as an excuse to see Kirk. Unwilling to tempt fate, I avoided the strip club. The more I saw Kirk, the more I craved him. With enough time, I might forget the way I felt when he looked at me. That feeling was a lie. I wasn’t special, and we weren’t living in a storybook. There was nothing storybook about being fifteen years away from possibly becoming my mom.
Walking down one of the main streets in town, I passed fast food places. They were air conditioned, and I had enough cash to buy a small soda. If I could find one not overflowing with screaming kids, I’d sit in a corner and read until near sundown. The plan was so simple yet alluring.
McDonalds and Burger King had kiddie areas, so they were full of moms and children hiding from the heat. I kept walking, but every place was crowded.
After thirty minutes of walking, I remembered how the community center typically only drew in the town’s seniors. I figured old people were quieter than toddlers, so I began walking that direction.
I wasn’t dressed to be noticed. I wore a plain white t-shirt and baggy jeans. My clothes still clung to my sweaty body, thereby gaining the attention of a bored perv at a gas station. He tried to make small talk, but I ignored him.
“Don’t be like that,” he said, following me.
Years earlier, I’d learned how talking to horny men only encouraged them. This guy had nothing better to do, so he kept following. When I stopped at a light and stared straight ahead, he stood too close to me.
“Are you deaf?” he asked, still smiling.
His hand brushed the side of my face. I instinctually swung around and hit him with my backpack. My temper never considered the damn consequences. The guy wasn’t big, but I backed away from him while holding my pack in front of me.
“You’re a little bitch,” he growled, clearly unsure how to handle the situation.
People nearby laughed at how I nailed him with my pink, flowered backpack. His ego bruised, the guy needed to react somehow. If I were a better bullshitter, I’d have talked him down. I could have apologized, put on my sad, little girl face, and told him I was just really scared. Hell, I should have pretended I didn’t know English.
My temper didn’t allow me to back down even though I was scared. In fact, I’d gotten my ass kicked a few times. Pain wasn’t something I embraced. My neighbor fought with people regularly and walked around with constant black eyes. Nothing fazed the bitch, but I wasn’t jaded like her.
My heart beat so loudly in my ears that I didn’t hear the traffic nearby, let alone the roar of the Harley. The asshole had spotted Kirk before I did. He also put together the situation faster. I was still shaking like an angry leaf when I tu
rned to find Kirk’s idling Harley behind me on the sidewalk.
Kirk never said a word before the guy panicked and ran away. Still shaking and confused, I stared at Kirk.
“Every time I turn around, you’re starting shit with someone,” he said, fighting a smile. “Want me to chase him down and let you beat him with your backpack?”
“Sure,” I mumbled in a shaky voice. “How did you find me?”
“I’ve been following you all day.”
Smiling, I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”
“Good timing, I guess. Or maybe I just sense when crazy little girls are about to go feral on a poor schmuck.”
“The asshole touched me.”
Kirk never lost his smile, but his jaw clenched.
“Are you jealous?” I asked, feeling confident despite my still shaking hands.
“Sure. I’ve been dreaming about you hitting me with a backpack for weeks.”
Laughing, I backed away. “I better go before it gets dark.”
“Won’t be dark for hours. Where are you going?”
For whatever reason, I didn’t want to tell him about the community center. I felt stupid for wandering around as I had been.
“I was bored, so I took a walk.”
“We’re four miles from your place. That’s a long fucking walk.”
“My boyfriend lives around here so…”
Not buying my attempt to play him, Kirk shook his head. “Your boyfriend is a punk. I heard he’s cheating on you too, babe. Gotta get you some higher standards.”
Smiling, I admired the sight of him looking so powerful on his Harley. His dark blond hair shined in the late afternoon sun, and his dark eyes hid behind mirrored glasses.
I stepped closer. “Where are you going?”
“I was bored, so I figured I drive around.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Yeah, what you gonna do about that?”
Uncertain how to respond, I shrugged and stepped back. “Thanks for the help with the asshole.”
“Let me give you a ride back.”
I shuddered at the thought of returning to the trailer park. “No. I’m not ready to go home.”
