Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars and Bad Boys

by Cassia Leo

  “So if we finish this round, I can get you out of here, right?” Ryker asked.

  Dane kicked back his chair, rocking on two legs. “Brother, you are entirely too uptight.” He checked his watch. “It’s a good half hour until Stella will be back.”

  “Maybe I’m sentimental with good-byes.”

  Dane remembered the last time they’d parted, right after their mother’s funeral. Ryker had taken it harder than Dane’d figured. Seemed to feel like he’d deserted her. Dane hadn’t done much better, even though he’d lived in the same town. He rarely saw her, just picked up a few groceries occasionally and took them over. She hadn’t wanted any fuss.

  His eye caught a bit of peacock blue going in the air, and he shifted just enough to see Darlene stepping up on the bar to dance beside the other girl. She turned his direction and lifted a piece of her denim skirt to show him a long length of thigh.

  Bobby Ray turned around to see who his sister was strutting for and glared hard at Dane.

  Ryker groaned. “And here we go.”

  ***

  22: Stella’s Arrival

  STELLA opened the door to a blast of sound. Bottles clinked, and the smell of stale beer made her think instantly of home and the endless TV trays of empties her father built up before Vivian could clear them out.

  Damn, you’d think she was homesick. She clutched tight to Janine, taking a step toward the long counter, trying to ignore the girls dancing on it—someone was always up there shaking their hips. It was a town tradition, Holly’s lowbrow debutante dance. She’d done it more than once. She scanned the tables. She saw Ryker first, and when he shifted his head, Dane. She was about to lunge forward when Janine held her firm. She followed his line of sight back to the bar, and then she noticed.

  Darlene. Pulling up the hem of her skirt to show off for Dane.

  Stella wasn’t sure who to be pissed at. Him or her. But she couldn’t keep the rage going, all the energy draining down into despair. She wouldn’t even see Dane again. Not ever. She’d have to leave town without him.

  Stella’s legs wouldn’t work. Dane was worth more than this. She couldn’t just walk away without a good-bye. If it didn’t go well, she would leave him to Darlene. She wouldn’t let the end of their love affair stop her from leaving. Just another kick in the butt on the way out the door.

  She straightened up, covertly sliding the triple-strand bracelet off her wrist and dropping it into her bag. He’d never known about it, and now she was glad. Nobody should know what a fool she had been.

  Stella stared up at the girls, then back down at Dane, trying to figure out how to get him alone for a second, see what he was thinking. He picked up a bottle, scanned the bar, and saw her. He froze, his beer in the air.

  ***

  23: Dane Steps In

  DANE felt like a two-ton gorilla lumbering across the bar. Damn it all if Stella wouldn’t show up right then. “I thought you were packing.”

  “I finished. What are you doing here?”

  Janine jumped between them. “We got done early. We went looking for you.”

  He could tell Stella was pissed. Her friend was trying to run interference. Damn it all.

  Stella pushed away from the counter. “Looks like you’re already entertained. I’ll be on my way.”

  Dane yanked her toward him. “I had nothing to do with her dancing on this bar. I couldn’t care less.”

  “Didn’t look that way to me.”

  “Woman, you have bad timing.”

  “And you have bad judgment.”

  He did. He knew it. But he couldn’t say it, not with the whole bar watching. So he kissed her instead, hoping he could calm her down, convince her that Darlene’s dancing was her doing, not his. He’d begun to think the whole thing was planned, waiting on some opportunity like tonight to play out.

  The jukebox fired up Eddie Rabbitt’s “The Best Year of My Life.” Stella cocked her head at him, and Dane knew he had to make this right, show her that Darlene meant nothing. He grasped her slender waist and hoisted her up to sit on the bar. “I’d much rather look at you,” he said. “Will you dance for me?”

  She sat there a moment, unsure. He pulled her knees apart and squeezed in tight against her. “You’ll be the one everyone remembers.”

  Stella pushed him back, half smiling. “We are the couple everyone likes to talk about.” She whipped her feet around and planted her sneakers on the bar to stand.

  Dane could see the other girls in his peripheral vision, but still never turned his head. Stella watched him, shuffling her feet to the driving rhythm of the song. Janine sat on a barstool, looking worried. Bobby Ray must still be close, hovering, as she couldn’t break her gaze from something just over his shoulder. He remembered the prick of the knife and wondered if he shouldn’t avoid having his back to the man, but surely in a bar this crowded, Bobby Ray wouldn’t try anything stupid.

  The song rolled to its conclusion, and Stella stopped dancing. He could see she was done and raised his hands to help her down. Her eyes widened, but before Dane could determine why, he was abruptly shoved aside and knocked to the floor. Bobby Ray grinned down at him and snatched at Stella, grasping her around the knees and bringing her down.

  Stella screamed just as Dane bounced right back up and jerked on Bobby Ray’s arm to let her go. The moment Stella was free, he landed a beefy uppercut to Bobby Ray’s jaw. Bobby Ray stumbled back for a moment, then grinned like this was what he had wanted all along. Everyone in the bar backed away, and Dane stood his ground, waiting for Bobby Ray’s next move.

  The man lurched forward, trying to knock a blow into Dane’s belly, but Dane darted aside, grasping Bobby Ray’s arm and twisting it under. Bobby Ray pulled loose and whipped around to knock a lucky shot straight into Dane’s nose. Blood dripped from his face, but he simply wiped it on the back of his hand, sidestepping in a circle around Bobby Ray, deciding where to land the next punch.

  Bobby Ray laughed. “You got a little something—on your face.” When he turned to see if his cohorts were noticing his success, Dane rushed forward, plowing into Bobby Ray and taking him to the ground. A chair fell aside, splintering, and Dane knocked three hard shots into Bobby Ray’s face before rolling off him. Surely the boy would be done after that. Dane was ready to walk away, and he didn’t give a flying fuck what any of them might say.

  He turned to Stella, who was white-faced, fear in her eyes. “Let’s go,” he said. She pointed behind him, and he turned to see Bobby Ray charging at him again. This boy was no match. Why couldn’t he see that? Dane stepped aside once more, but Bobby Ray managed to adjust and attempt a light blow to his side.

  Dane grabbed his arm and, while he had it, clipped Bobby Ray in the side of the head, then wrapped his arm around his neck, bending him over so he could shove a knee in his belly and knock him to the ground again.

  “Dane! This has to stop!” Stella shouted.

  He took in the room, the drunk girls and their boyfriends standing around, looking horrified or amused. The bartender, phone to his ear, no doubt calling the cops. Shit. They had to get out of town. He reached his hand out for Stella. “Time, Stella, now or never.”

  In the corner of his eye, he saw Bobby Ray get up, pulling on the legs of a barstool, then lifting the heavy wood base over his head. Good grief. The man hurtled forward, his aim as bad as the other two charges, and Dane snagged the leg of the barstool and yanked it toward him. They wrangled over it for a moment, then Dane switched tactics and, instead of pulling at it, shoved it hard back at Bobby Ray, smacking the edge of the seat into Bobby Ray’s nose.

  He hadn’t realized how sharp the blow had been until he heard, seconds after it happened, the gasp of the bystanders, and the world went in slow motion, Bobby Ray’s eyes rolling up into his head. They both let go of the stool, and Bobby Ray fell back. Dane knocked the stool aside and tried to catch him as he went down, breaking his fall so his head wouldn’t crash against the floor.

  “I’ve call
ed the po-lice,” the bartender said. “Y’all best chill it out now.”

  Stella dashed up to Dane, hands around his arm, pulling him back. “Let’s go now,” she said. “They can sort this out.” She dragged him through the crowd toward the door. Dane glanced back. Darlene had her brother’s head in her lap. Blood streamed from his nose, and now, out his ears. It looked bad. He’d lost it. Really fucked that boy up. And over what? A bar dance. A chickenshit show of two rutting bucks.

  The whine of an ambulance grew louder as they headed to Dane’s bike. “They’ll take care of him,” Stella said. “He’ll be all right.”

  Janine showed up with Stella’s purse. She was crying.

  “Hush, Janine,” Stella said. “Bobby Ray was asking for a fight.”

  Dane had nothing to say. He swung his leg over the Harley and jumped on the kick-starter. Stella took the purse from Janine. “Take my car,” she told her. She got on behind Dane, and he relaxed a little, feeling her tucked close behind him. They were getting away, out of this town, far from the damn scene inside the bar.

  The ambulance pulled in as they roared out, paramedics hopping from the back to drop a stretcher from the doors. Dane figured the police would come for him eventually, disorderly conduct for sure, probably assault. God damn it.

  He headed straight out of town. The Harley would lead them somewhere, at least for that night.

  ***

  24: Motorcycle Ride

  STELLA tried to let the wind blow the memory of the last half hour from her mind. Her arms encircled Dane, the leather jacket scrunching inside the crook of her elbows. She inhaled. Oil and aftershave. Hint of the leather. It calmed her.

  The bike raced forward, out of the parking lot and into the street. They passed the courthouse, the convenience store where the creepy guy once plotted to flash her, the grocery where Janine sacked and worried about getting sacked, the perfume shop, and then out, beyond the town, along the highway heading to nowhere, everywhere that wasn’t here.

  The wind tore at her hair, ripping through the perfect bangs and tangling the ends. Stella laid her cheek on Dane’s shoulder blade, watching the trees whiz by, tall and majestic, the smell of pine overwhelming everything. She felt reckless, drunk, totally out of control.

  Dane turned off the highway and onto a dirt road, slowing down as they bounced hard in the ruts. Stella knew the way. Ahead was a bridge, but you could take a side path and come right up on the river itself. The fork approached, and she tapped Dane’s shoulder, pointing toward it. He turned, and the cone of light cut through the dark as they left the open road and moved into dense forest.

  The motorcycle clipped the brush as they roared down the little-used path. Dane slowed, but Stella tapped him again, yelling, “Creek just ahead.”

  “Should we stop?”

  She nodded against his back.

  He pulled up just short of the drop-off and killed the motor. The creek gurgled below. Moonlight crossed the trees and glittered on the whitecaps below, rocks jutting through the stream.

  “What now?” Dane asked. “Turn around?”

  Her head buzzed. She answered without thinking. “Jump it.”

  Dane turned back to the creek, squinting. He could see the other side. “Two to a bike. Not sure we’d make it.”

  “We’ll make it.”

  “You jumped it before?”

  “Nope.”

  He hesitated, looking out. She knew they were both thinking of Bobby Ray, bleeding on the bar floor. Cheating death. He circled the bike around, going back as far as he could before the fork forced a turn.

  The rush of it overwhelmed her. It felt good. Grandma Angie seemed suddenly close. She wondered if they would die after all, if fates were pushing them to risk themselves after what they’d just done.

  The engine revved, a wild sound in the near-dark. The bike rumbled between her thighs, powerful and almost painful.

  She clutched him, setting her feet firmly on the footrests. His body was tense, his arms stiff. She wondered why he did it, just because she asked. She wanted to ask for more, push him past every limit.

  The bike took off, and she nearly lost her grip, but clamped down, her jaw tight. They raced along the path, limbs whipping at their knees, and the creek approached, closer, dim in the low light.

  Dane kicked up the front end, and they were airborne, sailing through the night, over the creek. They descended too fast, and Stella knew they were lost. They’d go down into the rocky creek, bleeding into the current.

  But one wheel touched down, then the other. They landed cleanly, and Dane eased back the power. The road curved suddenly, and he had to bank hard. Stella didn’t move with him, and he overcorrected, and now they were in a skid, the ground sawing into her leg and everything a rush as they halted in a bruising collision with dirt and brush.

  Dane flung the bike away to avoid getting crushed and was no more on the ground then back up, tugging at her. “Are you hurt? How bad is it?” He had no concern for himself, although she could see skin through his jeans, jagged tears filled with dirt.

  Her thigh screamed with agony, but she’d landed in pine needles, so the damage was minimal. The skin was abraded, but nothing that needed medical help. He carried her nearer the creek, where the moonlight was better without the canopy of trees. “We’ll live,” he said grimly, and she laughed, louder and harder than she’d ever before. He set her on the ground, and she pulled him down, heart pounding, thrilled that they had done it, crashed and survived.

  He didn’t seem to get it, didn’t understand what she was after, so she dragged him to the ground and rolled on top. Her knee howled, but she ignored it, bending down, pressing her lips into his mouth. Then he did understand, and they rolled, tumbling into the brush, coated in pine needles, bleeding and messy but alive, so alive.

  The situation didn’t call for romance, so she unbuckled him, exposed him just enough, and tugged off her panties beneath the short skirt, already near her waist. The forest stayed silent around them, the tree dwellers keeping their distance, until they rose again, stumbling back to the bike. “We can’t go back now,” Stella said.

  Dane nodded. “Need to check the bike in daylight anyway.” He knelt to spread his jacket in the pine needles. “Might be a rough night.”

  Stella shrugged and lay down, her head on the jacket. She was with Dane, and they were almost free. It would be enough.

  *

  Stella sat up and shook pine needles from her hair. Pretty much everything hurt. Her leg disgusted her, covered in bruises and scraped-up skin, blood encrusted in a few places. Her bangs hung in her eyes, and a quick swipe under her eyes yielded a finger covered in smudged mascara.

  Dane nudged her with his knee. “Hey. You look beautiful.”

  Stella slid back down onto his shoulder. “Thank God we broke all the mirrors.”

  He pulled her in close, but she couldn’t relax, aching and itchy and aware of the heat of the day rising around them. She sat up again. “Do you think the motorcycle will work?”

  Dane propped himself up on his elbows. “I guess it’s time to take a look.”

  They shuffled through the leaves and needles and crossed the road to where the Harley still lay on its side. Dane circled it a moment, then grasped the handlebar and the seat and heaved it upright.

  Stella rubbed her arms and stared into the canopy of trees. Pale light filtered through, low and weak. Had to be early. Birds flitted among the trees, sitting on limbs and cocking their heads at her. She felt like she was in church, not that stuffy old building with all the biddies like Vivian, but pure, close to God Almighty himself. She wondered if she should pray, and for whom. Herself, or Dane. Or Bobby Ray.

  She wondered if they’d taken him to a bigger hospital or if he was in town. They should probably stay clear of Holly for a bit. She could go to Grandma Angie’s that night, after dark, when the town wouldn’t be watching.

  Her car. She’d have to find a pay phone and call Janine.

&
nbsp; Dane sat astride the Harley and jumped on the starter. It roared and went out a couple of times, then finally fired up steady. He lurched forward, and stopped, then backed up to make a tight circle.

  Stella wanted to cover her ears. The motor seemed so loud and painful at this hour, in such a quiet place.

  “You okay, Stell?” Dane had to yell over the engine.

  She nodded. “Is it okay?”

  “Seems to be.”

  Stella looked around for her purse. It lay at the base of a tree, its contents scattered. She tried to kneel, but when pain shot through her, she plunked down on her butt and began tossing everything into the bag. Dane killed the bike to help her.

  She spotted the bracelet a foot away the same time as Dane. He reached over and plucked it from the leaves. “It survived.” He passed it to her.

  Stella laid the triple strands on her wrist and slid the slide lock into place. She wouldn’t take it off again. “I think I have everything,” she said. “Where should we go?”

  “Not to your grandmother’s?” he asked.

  “I don’t think we should go to Holly today.”

  He brushed caked mud from his jeans. “Why not?”

  “I’m pretty sure some people are going to have sore feelings over Bobby Ray.”

  “They should. He’s hurt pretty bad.” Dane stood and stared up into the trees, dots of light crossing his face. “I should have stopped it sooner.”

  Stella knew this was coming. “He started it.”

  “I shouldn’t have let it go anywhere.”

  She heaved herself up from the ground. “It happened. We can’t change it. All we can do is decide where we go and what we do from here.”

  “So where do we go from here?”

  “Let’s drive into Branson. I’ll take out some money, and we can pick up something to wear.” She looked down at their tattered outfits. “If any place will let us in.”