Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars and Bad Boys

by Cassia Leo

  Heath didn’t even have his truck anymore. Matt had taken that out of spite or anger or some stupid sense of justice, Cathy wasn’t sure what. So Heath had slept outside in the cornfield last night, but he couldn’t say there forever.

  “He says you can still stay in the barn,” said Cathy. “But he says you have to drop out of school and work the farm, or he’ll kick you out.”

  Heath dragged a hand over his face. “Okay. Fine.”

  “Heath, you need to go to school.”

  “Fuck school,” said Heath. “I cut half the time anyway. Did you bring me any smokes?”

  She got the pack out of her pocket and handed it to him. “You need a diploma. You can’t do anything without graduating from high school. They won’t even take you in the army.”

  Heath smirked. “I’m a lover, not a fighter, baby.”

  “Don’t joke about it,” she said.

  He put two cigarettes in his mouth and lit them both. He handed her one. “I can get that GED thing or whatever. It doesn’t matter. As long as we’re together.”

  She took the cigarette. “He doesn’t have any right to do this to you.” She breathed in the smoke, letting it fill her lungs. “Maybe we should go to someone. Like child protective services or something.”

  “No,” said Heath. “They’d take us away from him. And someone needs to take him away from the farm. We should have this farm, Cathy. You and me.”

  She contemplated her cigarette. “Maybe.” She didn’t guess this was the right time to tell him that she didn’t want to live on this farm, that she wanted to go far away from this place, maybe even to a city. How were she and Heath going to get to a city if he didn’t even graduate from high school?

  He grabbed her. “Look, he can’t keep us from each other. No matter what he thinks he can do, he can’t keep me away from you.”

  She kissed him. He tasted like tobacco smoke. She wound his curls around her fingers. When she was this close to him, it didn’t seem like anything else mattered.

  *

  Cathy scuffed her toes against the ground. She was waiting for the school bus in the early gray morning light. The world was misty and cold. She tucked her hands into her pockets and shivered. If Matt hadn’t taken Heath’s truck, she’d be sitting with him inside it right now. He’d put the heat on or take her hands and rub them between his. He’d tell her that he’d keep her warm.

  But Heath was in the fields right now. He’d been working since dawn.

  Matt worked him hard.

  She sometimes saw Heath after supper, when the sun was coming down, wandering back to the barn. Matt would feed him, but he wouldn’t let him eat inside.

  Cathy went to him, but he was always exhausted. She’d lie down with him in the bed they’d set up in the loft of the barn. He’d hold her, kiss her a few times, and then he’d be asleep.

  She missed him.

  A car was coming up the road, something sleek and new and blue.

  She watched as it slowed in front of her. The window rolled down.

  A girl with long blonde hair poked her head out. She had a toothpaste-commercial smile. She was like a cross between Christy Brinkley and Kristy Swanson. “My brother thinks you’re hot,” she giggled.

  She heard a male voice from the car. “What the fuck, Isabella?”

  Not Christy then. She looked like a Christy.

  The girl giggled harder. “You want a ride?”

  Cathy considered. It was cold. She hated the bus. She scampered forward and opened the back door of the blue car. She slid inside. “Thanks.”

  The guy driving the car was just as blond as his sister. His hair was carelessly tousled with gel. His eyes were bright blue. He looked embarrassed. “Hey. I’m Eli.”

  “Cathy,” she said, pulling the door closed.

  Eli turned to the road and the car sped off.

  His sister turned around. “I’m Isabella. We’re new.”

  “Um, I figured,” said Cathy. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

  “But you do go to the high school, right?”

  “Yeah, I was waiting for the bus.”

  She smiled. “Good. It would be totally awful if we picked you up, and you were heading to, like, Tulsa or something.”

  Tulsa? Cathy raised an eyebrow.

  Isabella kept talking. “We’re always new. Our father is in real estate. We move someplace, buy up all the land, and then my dad sells it, makes a lot of money, and we have to move again.” She rolled her eyes. “Total drag. But I’ve learned that you have to be assertive if you want to make friends, so that’s why we picked you up. Anyway, it’s Eli’s junior year, and my sophomore year, so maybe we’ll actually finish up school here.”

  “Okay,” said Cathy. She was at a loss to know what to say next.

  “What does your dad do?”

  “Um… he died.”

  “Oh, God.” Isabella sounded mortified. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay,” said Cathy. “We own a farm.”

  “Oh,” said Isabella. “You want to sell it to my dad?”

  Cathy bit her lip.

  *

  “She gets nervous around new people,” said Eli. It was lunchtime. Before Heath got exiled from school, Cathy had always eaten lunch with him. But now, she’d been eating alone. When she saw Eli sitting alone too, she’d thought it only made sense to join him. But all he’d done since she sat down was apologize for his sister. “Which I guess is everybody, because we move around a lot. She talks too much.”

  “It’s okay.” Cathy poked at her lunch, some kind of taco casserole that was oozing red sauce onto her tray.

  “No, it’s not. She made you uncomfortable this morning, and that’s not what I wanted to do.” He had a packed lunch. He was eating a sandwich and a pudding cup. “I probably shouldn’t even have stopped. I mean, you must think we’re both crazy.”

  “No, of course not.” She smiled. “I’m glad you picked me up.”

  “You usually ride the bus?”

  She considered explaining that Heath used to drive her, but that her brother had made Heath drop out of school. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Eli was embarrassed because his sister talked a lot. What would he think of her completely screwed-up family? “Yeah.”

  “You don’t have a car?”

  She shrugged. “I can drive and all, but I never got my license.” Heath had always driven her everywhere. It hadn’t seemed important. But now Heath didn’t have his truck anymore. And he didn’t have time to take her anywhere, anyway. He worked constantly.

  “Really? Why not?”

  She poked her taco stuff some more. “I don’t know. Guess there was no one to take me to the DMV or whatever. It can get busy on a farm, and it’s just my brother and me now that my dad’s gone.”

  Eli nodded. “I can see that.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “I could take you sometime if you want.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Eli set his sandwich down. “You know, it’s true what Isabella said. We’re always new. Doing nice things for people is a good way to make friends. And, um, I’d like to be your friend.”

  She felt shy. “I think I’d like that too.”

  *

  Cathy shifted back and forth on her feet outside of Eli’s car.

  “You can take the front seat,” said Isabella. “That way you and Eli can hold hands.”

  Eli glared at her. “Stop being a twat, Isabella. I just met Cathy. She’s probably got a boyfriend, anyway.”

  They were in the parking lot outside school. Eli had offered her a ride home. He was in her seventh period chemistry class, and she’d volunteered to be his lab partner. She liked the way he kept looking over at her during class. He thought she hadn’t noticed, but he had.

  He was like the sun—golden, bright, warm. And he liked her.

  Isabella rolled her eyes and got into the back of the car. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

&
nbsp; Cathy looked at the asphalt. “I, um, nothing really official, I guess.”

  Eli opened the door to the car for her. “Really?”

  She couldn’t meet his gaze. She got into the car. It was only that the whole thing with Heath sometimes seemed like it was weighing her down. Heath talked like they were practically married, but he’d never even asked her to be his girlfriend. She was only sixteen. What if she wanted to kiss more than one guy before she died? Was that such a crime?

  She buckled herself in.

  “You, um, like Nirvana?” asked Eli.

  She turned to him, surprised. He was so clean and preppy. “You like Nirvana?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. And Pearl Jam and Smashing Pumpkins. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You just look like someone who listens to…” She cocked her head. “Boyz II Men or something.”

  He laughed harder. “You don’t like the way I look?”

  “I didn’t say that. I…” She felt stupid.

  Isabella poked her head up between the seats. “I keep telling Eli that if he grew his hair out, he’d look like Kurt Cobain. What do you think?”

  Cathy dragged her gaze over Eli, taking him all in. “No, you’re more attractive than he is.”

  “What?” said Isabella. “Nobody’s more attractive than Kurt Cobain.”

  Eli fumbled through his music collection and slid in a CD. He hunted through the tracks, and “About a Girl” started to play.

  “I like this song,” said Cathy. But she felt like a traitor, because she usually listened to it with Heath, the two of them curled up together somewhere, his lips on her skin. She looked out the window.

  Eli pulled out of the parking lot, and Cathy watched the trees go by as they drove away from the school. It was early fall. The leaves were starting to change. They listened to the music. The song ended and another started.

  Eli asked her for directions to her house, and she told him.

  “So, Cathy,” said Isabella, as they pulled up the driveway to the farm, “you got a brother or something? That way I can double with him when you and Eli go to the prom.”

  “Jesus,” said Eli. He put the car into park. “You’re such an asswipe, I swear.”

  Isabella giggled. “Oh, don’t be stupid. She totally likes you. You’ll be in the back seat of this car together by Halloween.”

  Cathy blushed, thinking about kissing Eli. He had nice lips, and he was clean-shaven, not like Heath, who only seemed to run into a razor twice a month. She wondered if Eli’s skin would be smooth when she ran her fingers over it.

  “So, do you have a brother or not?” said Isabella.

  “Uh, he’s older,” said Cathy. “Like twenty-two. And he’s, um, seeing someone.” Fran had moved in, actually. Her and that squalling baby of hers.

  “Too bad,” said Isabella.

  “Thanks for the ride,” said Cathy. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I could, um, pick you up?” said Eli.

  “Um… okay,” said Cathy.

  “Who’s that?” Isabella broke in. “I can tell he’s not your brother. He doesn’t look anything like you.”

  Isabella was pointing at Heath, who was walking up the field. His shirt was off, and his hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

  Cathy’s lips parted. She hadn’t realized he was getting so… muscular. She guessed that would happen if someone spent a lot of time lifting things and working really hard.

  He turned dark eyes on her. Sweat glinted in the afternoon sunlight, making his torso glow.

  “That’s Heath,” said Cathy.

  “Wow,” said Isabella. She fanned herself.

  Cathy glared at her. “He’s not—” She broke off, looking at Eli. “He works for us.” She got out of the car. “Thanks again for the ride.”

  She watched the car pull out of the driveway. Dust furled up behind it, and she felt a little bad because Eli’s bright blue car would be dirty now.

  “Who the fuck was that?”

  She jumped. Heath had appeared next to her, silent as a shadow. He was at her ear, his face close to hers.

  “People from school,” she said. “They gave me a ride home.”

  “Yeah?”

  She backed away from him. “You’re sweating, and you stink.”

  His jaw twitched. There was accusation in his black eyes. Hurt.

  She turned away from him and ran towards the farmhouse.

  ***

  2013

  The farmhouse was gray and stately, tucked down a twisting road, behind fields and fields of unruly weeds. Thera parked her car behind Linton’s and stared at up at the house as she shut the car door. Stone siding, pillars holding up the porch, a high peaked roof, the house loomed tall over both of them. A breeze blew past, making the nearby trees whisper, and Thera felt as if the house were whispering a warning down to her.

  Maybe she shouldn’t go inside.

  Linton took her by the hand. “Come in, come in.”

  She shot a look back at her car. Maybe she should get back inside it and drive back home.

  Linton tugged on her.

  She took a step. “Doesn’t anyone farm this land anymore?”

  “Nah,” said Linton. “My father doesn’t need the money, and he says it was never profitable, anyway. We have a garden out back. He tends that some.”

  She stepped up over the stone steps onto the porch. Instantly, the air felt cooler. They’d been sucked into the shade, the cool stone.

  Linton swung the door open—a screen door, fairly modern. It stood out in high contrast to the rest of the house.

  They stepped inside a tiny foyer. Steps wound up in front of her to the second landing, where there was a balcony. A set up like that generally made a house feel open, but this was too stifling and small. Even the open air above her head seemed oppressive.

  To one side, she could see a living room. To the other, some kind of den or parlor. A narrow hallway between the steps and the den led into the depths of the house.

  The wooden floor was warped and ancient under her feet.

  And a man appeared at the top of the steps.

  He was about her father’s age, but he was taller and darker. His shoulders were broader. His hair was very long. It fell in rich, black waves over his shoulders, reaching halfway down his back. He had olive-colored skin and huge dark eyes, fringed with such heavy lashes that it looked like he was wearing eyeliner.

  He smiled at her, but his smile was cold. “Good work, Linton. Perhaps you’re not the most useless thing I ever brought into the world.”

  He began to descend the steps. He was wearing leather pants and a black button-up shirt. There were silver rings on his fingers. He looked like an aging rock star. He looked like a harbinger of the apocalypse. He looked like a vampire from one of those old shows I sometimes watched on Netflix. All he was missing was a flowing cape.

  Cathy backed up, reaching for the door. “You know, I’m just realizing that I really do need to be getting back home.”

  “But we haven’t even had the chance to meet.” He was in front of her then, offering her his hand. “I’m Heath Galloway.”

  She put her hand in his. “Thera Linton.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I would know you anywhere. You look like her. There’s not very much of your father in you at all, thank heaven.”

  She tried to pull her hand away.

  He held it even tighter. “Come with me, Thera. I’ll show you to your room.”

  “My room? But I’m not staying.”

  He raised his eyebrows. His dark eyes were empty and vacant, and they made her feel off balance. Linton has his eyes, she thought.

  “You’ll make her stay, won’t you, Father?” said Linton, sounding delighted. “No one can say no to Father.”

  Heath chuckled. He cocked his head to one side. “How do you suppose Eli will feel when he discovers you’re missing? Do you think he’ll feel even an ounce of the kind of pain he’s caused me all
these years?”

  Thera’s heart started to pound. It was very possible that Heath Galloway was insane. There was something in the way he was looking at her. Desperate now, she tried to pull her hand away from his.

  Heath laughed. He tugged her up against him. “You’re not going anywhere, Catherine Linton. I’ve got a notion that I’d like to get to know you better.”

  She struggled, thrashing in his arms, frantic to free herself.

  But his arms were iron bands.

  He threw her over his shoulder like she was a sack of grain, and he started up the steps, his laughter echoing in the stairwell—deep, rich, and full.

  ***

  1993

  Fran cocked her head. “You need more makeup.”

  Cathy looked in the mirror. Fran was behind her, heavily lined eyes and dark red lips. “I don’t know.”

  Fran chuckled. “Don’t worry. Not as much as me, sugar.” Fran’s voice was raspy, probably from too many cigarettes. She leaned over Cathy, her low cut shirt exposing her lacy red bra, and hunted through Cathy’s makeup bag. “This.” She held up an eyeliner pencil.

  Cathy took the pencil. “You really think so?”

  “Just lightly, sugar.” Fran called everyone sugar.

  There was a loud wail from downstairs.

  “Shit,” said Fran. “He won’t stay down for a nap, I swear.” She headed out of the room. “I’ll be right back.”

  “It’s fine,” said Cathy, still surveying the eyeliner. She squinted at herself in the mirror, then uncapped the pencil and applied it around her eyes. She used her finger to smudge it. Then she drew back, considering.

  She was getting ready for homecoming, and for a dress, she’d just gone through the attic until she found her mother’s old slips. She was wearing about three of them, layered on top of each other. Her hair was in a top knot, but she’d spent hours getting the right amount of tendrils to fall down around her face so that she looked disheveled enough.