Old School: A Bad Boy Biker Romance

by Delilah Wilde

  “Now fuck off and go serve your other customers,” I said. Tom didn't need to be told twice. He ran off to ask a girl at the other side of the bar if she wanted another spritzer, though his eyes kept darting back to me. He was probably terrified that I would change my mind and pummel him in front of everyone. I won't lie, I was tempted.

  I turned around and saw that the girls in the bar were still looking at me. The looks of lust on their faces had been momentarily replaced with surprise. Maybe they had thought that my strong muscles had just been something of a display piece. I was glad to have proven that theory wrong.

  One of the girls finally gathered up the courage to approach me. She was a brunette, petite but curvy. A little bit like Lola.

  “Hey there, stud. You're not gonna grab me like that poor bartender if I talk to you, will you?” she asked. I shook my head.

  “Just don't piss me off like he did and you'll be fine.”

  She introduced herself to me and sat down but her name didn't even register with me. It was Chris, or Christine or Christina or something like that. I found it hard to focus on what she was saying. Instead of listening to her, I was comparing her to Lola.

  In theory, they looked alike but Lola had brighter eyes, smoother skin and longer legs. I had always enjoyed the way she wrapped her legs around me when I fucked her. I would have given anything to experience that one more time. Her hair didn't look as soft and shiny as Lola's and her voice didn't have that sexy, husky edge that Lola's had. There was no comparing. Lola was better in every way. I couldn't pretend that I felt otherwise.

  The girl soon got annoyed with my obvious inattentiveness. She waved a hand over my face. “Hello! Are you even listening to me?” she said, outraged.

  “Of course I am,” I replied, but I wasn't very convincing. One of the main reasons why I hadn't cheated on a girl since high school was the fact that I was a terrible liar. This chick could see right through me. She could have been blind and deaf and she still would have.

  “Then what did I just say?” she insisted. There was no point in lying anymore. She didn't interest me much anyway. Fucking her would probably fun, but the last thing I wanted was to continue the Lola comparisons with this girl's bedroom technique. That really wouldn't be fair.

  “I honestly don't have a clue, sorry about that,” I said, deciding that honesty was the best policy.. The girl gave me an indignant sniff and marched back to her friends, who immediately started talking about what an asshole I was. It was fine. I didn't want her. I didn't want any of these girls. I left the bar alone, feeling worse than I did when I entered it. Where was Lola when I needed her?

  Lola

  Working from home turned out to be a lot harder than I had expected. Sure, there were a few added bonuses. I could work in my pajamas and order food from my favorite local Chinese place for lunch. I was free to take breaks whenever I wanted and no one cared if I hadn't brushed my hair all day. No one was there to yell at me or to tell me that I wasn't working hard enough. That was all great. Most people would switch places with me in an instant if it meant that they could do their nine to five from home. What wasn't so great was how undisciplined that I felt.

  I had so much to do but I hadn't thought to organize any kind of homework schedule for myself. I was supposed to do this week's beauty column but that wasn't particularly inspiring for me. There was only so many ways that you could tell people to try a nude lip smokey eye combo without sounding repetitive. Jennifer had given me some new albums to review for our tiny arts section but when I listened to them the only word that I could think of was 'garbage'. To me if it wasn't country music then it wasn't music, though I tried my best to put aside my prejudice I still couldn't think of anything to say. I figured that I was suffering from writer's block and decided that a walk in the fresh air might help me out with that. So I pulled off my pajamas and changed into the next best thing, a pair of my comfiest sweatpants. Sweatpants were strictly a no go in Jennifer's office, but today my home was my office and I made the rules. I pulled my hair into a cute high pony, dabbed on some lip balm and I was ready to go. Did I look hot? Not really. Did I look like a hot mess? Not quite, I had just managed to avoid that look. Did I look like a professional journalist? Maybe not. I left the car in the house and walked into town, figuring that I might as well do some window shopping. Looking at clothing and makeup that I couldn't afford was always fun. That, combined with the exercise might get my imagination going.

  I didn't have a chance to get much exercise done as I was instantly recognized when I tried to walk past a small, local cafe. It had a few tables laid out outside to make the most of the good weather. I heard a shriek come from one of the tables and before I knew it, Janey and Allison were bombarding me with hugs.

  “Lola! Oh my god, how lucky to bump into you! We were both on our lunch breaks so we decided to meet up,” said Allison, “Come on, you have to have coffee with us!”

  “Yes please say yes! It's so amazing to catch you in the wild like this!” added Janey.

  I hadn't prepared for socializing but I didn't really have a choice. Anyway, seeing my friends didn't seem like too terrible an option to me. It was better than the prospect of listening to those shitty albums again, anyway. Maybe the could even help me think of something constructive or interesting to write. Even so, I regretted bumping into them as soon as I sat down.

  They were both dressed beautifully in expensive clothing that appeared to be perfectly tailored for their figures. Their hair was perfectly cut and highlighted to accentuate their pretty, perfectly made up faces. Next to them I looked incredibly scruffy. I tried to pretend that they didn't notice, but soon realized that I was fighting a losing battle.

  “Wow Lola, you're the only girl I know who can wear sweat pants and no makeup and still look fabulous,” said Janey. She meant it as a compliment but I knew she didn't mean it. It was her way of saying that I looked like a hot mess. Somehow I couldn't imagine Janey wearing sweatpants. Even when she watched movies in bed she probably wore a three piece suit, red lipstick and heels. My friends were always so much more put together than I was and I could tell that they thought I should follow their example. It didn't matter that I would rather die than be so uncomfortable every day of my life. So I ignored Janey's little jibe.

  “Thanks, Janey. So how are you guys doing?” I asked. That bought me some time. Their answers were really long, though they basically didn't tell me anything that they hadn't told me last time. The only new information that they had was ridiculously boring. Janey had bought a new sofa for her living room because the old one didn't match the new wallpaper. Allison had a bad manicure. The old lady doing it for had painted her nails with Tropical Punch instead Caribbean Punch which was apparently a really bad thing that she probably should have sued for. I felt myself starting to switch off, so I forced myself to listen.

  “It was ridiculous. She could have ruined my career. I mean, who wants to work with someone who has nails the color of orange juice? It's a fucking joke!” she ranted. Janey nodded sympathetically. “A total fucking joke. You tell them, sister.”

  I decide that I should chime in too.

  “Yeah, she could have ruined your life!” There was a little bit of sarcasm in my voice but it went on undetected. If they did sense it then they didn't comment on it. Instead, they both gave me concerned looks. I'd guessed that this was coming.

  “So Lola, what happened with the magazine? Didn't it work out?” asked Allison, looking pityingly at me. Ah, so they though that I got fired because I was wandering around town in sweatpants on a weekday. At least I could set them straight there.

  “No, it's working out really well actually. I just organized a really expensive photo shoot. My boss trusts me so much now that she's letting me work from home four days a week to save on the commute,” I explained. The two of them still looked doubtful, “I'll send you a free copy of the next issue if you need proof.”

  My tone was slightly icy so they knew that they h
ad pissed me off. They both insisted that that was OK and that they believed me but they kept exchanging looks.

  “We're so happy for you, Lola. You've always been the creative one and I guess we never quite understood what you were doing with your life,” said Allison, innocently enough. By 'creative' she meant ridiculous and weird with no skills that a modern employer would actually value, but I decided to take the compliment where I could get it. I would take being creative over being boring any day. I bet when Janey and Allison's partners fucked them they only did missionary. It made me feel a little smug to know that was the one area where I probably did better. Then I thought of Vince and that feeling washed away.

  “Yeah,” added Janey cheerily, “It must to finally have some stability! We were starting to worry about you.”

  “Do you guys hold meetings about me when I'm not around our something?” I asked. They both laughed but I hadn't meant it as a joke at all. I crossed my arms. If they wanted to take me on then I was ready for it. I was tired of being treated like a silly little girl just because I had ambitions beyond what they could understand.

  “Don't be silly! You just lead such an interesting life, what with all your different jobs and all of these crazy love affairs. We're both so boring that it's kind of like watching a Soap Oprah to us,” said Janey, before quickly adding, “And obviously, we admire you for it.”

  They knew that they were walking on eggshells with me. Still, though we had known each other forever we didn't have the kind of friendship that involved being straight with each other when we were pissed off. It was stupid, but this was the way that things had always been. Even in high school Janey and Allison would make snide remarks about me spending the time that they were in the library hanging out with guys. I was just happy being a kid but they both seemed to have been born with sticks up their butts that could not be removed. Despite that, I never confronted them and they never confronted me. I just did my thing and the two of them disapproved. They probably always would, even if I became a millionaire.

  “Thank, I think,” I said, and the two of them laughed at me. A waiter passed by and Janey nabbed him so that she could order me a coffee. When he left to go get it, she turned and smiled at me.

  “What about that guy, Lola? He's cute huh? What do you think of him for Lola, Aly? Could you see them together?” she asked. Allison nodded eagerly.

  “He's very cute. Definitely perfect for her. And he was totally looking at you, Lola.”

  Oh god, they were pandering to me now. The waiter only looked at me because he wanted to know who the coffee was for. He wasn't cute either. He was nineteen at the most and looked bored out of his mind. This was probably the job he was doing to pay off his student loans and buy weed with at the weekends. They just liked the idea of setting me up and figured that anyone would do.

  “Not my type,” I said politely. The two of them looked at each other again and I really wanted to slap them. How could they be so judgmental when they barely knew what was going on in my life? I wasn't that same kid from high school anymore. I was a grown woman and even if I didn't know exactly what I was doing all the time, I knew what was best for me. They didn't know shit though they acted like my concerned parents all of the time.

  I saw the next question coming a mile off.

  “How have your...casual relationships been going?” asked Allison. She raised her eyebrows when she said the word 'casual' as if it was insane. To her it probably was.

  “Fine,” I said stubbornly. The waiter brought my coffee over and I began to focus all of my attention on that. It burned my tongue when I drank it but I didn't care. This experience was painful enough.

  “That's great,” said Janey, “That's really great.”

  “Your life seems perfect,” added Allison, “You must be so happy.” If only they knew.

  Vince

  Fucking other girls hadn't worked. I hadn't even managed to kiss another girl. My head was still filled with thoughts and memories of Lola that I just wanted to forget more than anything. There was only one cure for it. It wasn't booze and it certainly wasn't sex. It was my bike.

  I had just finished working on a very special custom piece that I had been planning on selling. It was a classic Harley low rider from the late seventies that I'd bought for next to nothing from an old man because it didn't run anymore.

  “It's irreparable,” he assured me, “I've been trying for years. But if you want it, you can be my guest.”

  Restoring it to its former glory had been a massive job that seemed impossible to begin with. I had to replace a lot of parts and some of those parts weren't even being made anymore so I had to look all over the country for them. Brett had laughed at me when I started.

  “You're wasting your time on that hunk of shit. The old bikes look cool but there's no way you can fix that.”

  Luckily, I knew better than to listen to him. I worked on it little by little a within a year and a half it was in perfect working order. Almost every customer who came into the shop noticed it right away. A lot of them wanted to buy it, but I refused. I was saving it for a special buyer.

  That buyer turned out to be me. I grabbed my favorite leather jacket, put on my helmet and told Brett not to wait for me. I needed to clear my head and if riding my bike was the only way I could do that, then so be it.

  I started it up, feeling the adrenaline suddenly spike in my veins. Riding gave me a natural high that most drug addicts would kill for. It felt amazing to speed through the city streets on something so beautiful. How could I ever be sad again when I could experience this whenever I wanted? I didn't need girls. I didn't need booze. I didn't even need Lola. All I needed was a good bike and a dirt road and I could be happy.

  I rode through the city for a while, enjoying the looks that people gave me as I flew past them. Almost all the males I saw looked impressed. Whether they were little boys or old men, they envied my freedom. I could go wherever I wanted. I had no ties to anyone or anything. Why hadn't I appreciated that more lately? The women just looked like they were wishing that I would stop for them, but I had no interest. This was my alone time. I hadn't realized how much I needed it until I got on that bike.

  I found myself drawn to the open road, which happened to be where Lola had first ran me over. At the very least she taught me that I should wear a helmet, so that was something. As I passed that faithful spot I wondered what would have happened if she had missed me, or if I'd been run over by some poor old lady or an angry trucker instead. Fate seemed to have deemed it important that we met, so I wouldn't question that. Now Lola had deemed that we shouldn't see each other again and I wouldn't question that either.

  I could be happy all by myself.

  Lola

  I somehow managed to get my beauty column, my album reviews and even a bonus article on asymmetrical haircuts done for Friday, despite my lack of inspiration. Jennifer hadn't checked in on me all week, which I took as a good sign. Just a little while ago if I had suggested that I should work from home she would have cackled in my face. Now she trusted me enough that she didn't feel the need to check in on me at all. It was weird to think that one little photo shoot had changed so much. I could have been eating Cheetos in my underwear and watching reality TV all week and she wouldn't have known. Not to say that I didn't do that, because I did, but only after I had gotten my writing done for the day. I took it as a compliment that she didn't seem to be worried about me. Anyway, why should she have been worried? I had proven that I could handle myself. I wasn't a nervous mess anymore. I was a fashion journalist. A good one.

  It felt strange getting ready for work on Friday after spending my whole week sleeping in and lazily typing on my laptop. I almost forgot how to present myself professionally. Luckily I allowed myself time to get ready by setting my alarm early. By the time I got into my car I was wearing an elegant but casual sweater dress and my hair fell into perfect waves past my shoulders. Oh yes. This was what being professional felt like.

  Th
e drive to work was rather uneventful, though in my short time at home I had already forgotten how long it could be. It occurred to me that last time I'd made this drive that Vince had been in the passenger seat, but I quickly let that thought go. Today would be a good day. I wouldn't let Vince's bad vibes ruin it for me. I tossed my country CD aside and replaced it with one of the albums I'd had to review, which I'd actually grown to like since listening to it on repeat for a week. I sang along at the top of my lungs for the whole journey. It had always helped to calm me down at the beginning and end of a stressful work day.

  When I arrived at work I realized that I was nervous, despite my recent success. Any time I had written an article in the past I had been under Jennifer's watchful eye. Every time she walked past my desk she would be able to point out five things she didn't like about what I had written without fail. Had I really improved so much that I didn't need that kind of supervision anymore? I would soon find out.

  I walked into the building and pressed the button in the elevator for our floor. As it was ascending I rifled through what I had written during the week. While I was doing it I had felt very proud of myself and happy with what I was writing, but now I wasn't so sure. Was my tone too casual or not causal enough? What if my positive reviews of the albums pissed Jennifer off? I had no idea what to expect.