by Geri Glenn
I frown back at him, my stomach tightening. I know deep down that he’s teasing me, but I can’t help but feel the urge to run. I don’t like the attention they are giving, but I also don’t want them to know I’m afraid. Clearing my throat, I make a show of rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “I think I can handle it.”
“I bet you can,” he shoots back. “You think you could handle—”
“Shady!” a voice barks, tearing my attention away from the greasy looking biker. “Jesus, man. You don’t know when the hell to shut up, do you?” I gape at my saviour as he slaps Shady across the back of the head, a little harder than necessary. “Let the lady eat her damn supper in peace, asshole. Nobody here wants to ride anything you have to offer anyway.”
The other men chuckle as Shady scowls and rubs the back of his head, and I have to bite my lip to hold in my own laughter. But I can’t hold back the smile on my face. My savior’s gaze swings to meet mine and I freeze. I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed him before.
He’s sitting, but I can tell that he’s tall. His dark hair is long and pulled back into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, his face partially hidden behind his thick beard. Tattoos cover his arms, and his eyebrow piercing only draws attention to the aqua blue eyes currently etching themselves into my memory. My heart stutters as I watch a slow smile spread across his face.
“Sorry about him, darlin’. He’s not house broken yet.”
My mouth opens with a reply, but my brain has lost all ability to articulate. I give him a shy smile just as the waitress comes with my food. I turn around, my cheeks flaming, and cram a French fry into my mouth. I can’t remember the last time I’d been speechless when talking to a man. I don’t know that it’s ever happened to me before.
Chairs scrape across the floor and heavy boots approach as the table full of bikers get ready to leave. Each of them nods or waves as they pass, and I do my best to keep the smile on my face. The last to walk by is my saviour, who stops and takes a seat in the booth across from me.
“Sorry again about Shady, darlin’. He really is harmless.”
I shrug, my eyes wide as I continue to chew furiously on the mouthful of burger I’d taken before he approached, trying to empty my mouth so I can respond.
“The name’s Hulk. We’re just passing through on our way home. What’s your name?”
I swallow down my burger and take a quick sip of my soda, buying time before I answer. Is it wise to tell this guy my name? Taking a deep breath, I will my vocal chords to do their job and answer. “Holly.”
I watch in awe as his slow smile lights up his whole face. “Pretty name for a pretty lady. Where you headed, Holly?”
I stare at him for a beat, my mind racing. “I don’t think it’s wise to tell my comings and goings to a complete stranger.”
He chuckles. “Smart lady.” Throwing a receipt on the table, he stands. “Well, I paid your bill when I paid my own. You have a nice day, Holly.”
I gape after him as he turns and saunters out of the diner, my head spinning. What the hell had just happened?
Just before I climb back onto my bike, I decide to take a peek at my phone. I realize my mistake as soon as the screen lights up. Sixteen missed phone calls, thirteen of which are from Scott. He would have gotten home about four hours ago, and is likely freaking out about now. I listen to the voicemails, one being from one of the lead supervisors at work, begging me to call her and talk to her about what is going on.
The other six messages are all Scott, angry about where I am and demanding that I bring home something for supper so he doesn’t have to wait for me to cook it. Looks like Scott will be waiting quite a while for supper tonight.
Asshole.
I delete each message and power off my phone, tossing it into one of the saddlebags. I can’t think of a single person I want to hear from right now, and the only thing keeping me from smashing it on the ground is the fact that it would come in handy in case of an emergency.
Climbing onto my bike, I secure the chin strap on my helmet and start it up. I pull back onto the highway and keep moving, heading down the highway that runs straight through Canada, and in the direction of my hometown, wanting more than anything to be back in my father’s house; to feel that connection with him. It takes me another five hours to make it to Saskatoon, and when I do, I am exhausted.
I check into a tiny little room, dragging in everything I have brought with me to restart my life and dropping it on the small table in the corner of the room. I take a long, hot shower and brush my teeth. An old rerun of the Big Bang Theory plays on the television. I’m almost asleep when I decide that it’s only fair of me to give Scott a call and tell him that I won’t be home. He has to be worried by now. I don’t need him calling the police.
I crawl out of bed and dig out my phone, waiting while it powers on. Voicemail alerts and texts pop up on my screen one after another, all of them, once again, from Scott. I don’t even bother listening to them as I try to calm my racing heart and pull up his name on the touch screen. My frayed nerves make my body tremble as I try to prepare myself for what I know is not going to be a pleasant conversation.
“Holly? Is that you?”
The panic in his voice sends a pain through my chest. I don’t want to hurt him, and in a way, I still love Scott. We’d been through so much together, but I know in my heart that this time, loving him isn’t enough. I’m not in love with him. Maybe I was once, but that love has been squashed by years of his cruel words, contempt, and selfishness.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Holly, where the hell are you? I’ve been worried fuckin’ sick!”
“Saskatoon.”
Silence follows my quiet admission. I can hear Scott’s heavy breathing and I know that those five words have taken him from worried to enraged. “Why the fuck are you in Saskatoon?”
“I’m leaving you, Scott.” I grip the phone with both hands, my chest aching as I try to regulate my breathing.
“Leaving me? What do you mean you’re leaving me? Holly, what is going on?”
“I can’t do this anymore, Scott. I can’t live the life we’ve been living, knowing that I am wasting my best years in a relationship that feels like a death sentence.”
I hear a crash from the other end of the phone line and shudder to think of what Scott had just thrown against the wall. “That’s bullshit and you know it. I don’t know what the hell is going through your head right now, Holly, but you need to get your ass home. How the hell did you get all the way to Saskatoon anyway? Your car is in the driveway.”
“I bought a motorcycle.”
“You bought a what? Jesus, Holly! You need to get your ass home right now. I’m not fuckin’ around.”
“I’m not coming home, Scott.”
He growls angrily and there’s another crash. “So what? This is it? There’s someone else isn’t there? You stupid bitch. You met some other guy!”
I shake my head and swallow down the giant lump in my throat. “There’s nobody else, Scott. I’m leaving because no man that loves me like I want him to would ever call me a stupid bitch.”
“Ah, fuck you, Ho—”
“Goodbye, Scott,” I whisper and disconnect the call.
I quickly power off my phone, sticking it back inside of my bag in case I need it again, but I won’t be turning it on if I don’t have to. Tears fill my eyes and emotion chokes me as I try to hold them back.
I don’t regret my decision to leave, but I hate that I’m hurting Scott. I hate that I have to start my life all over again at thirty-five years old, and I hate that it took sixteen years and my dead father’s will to make me see that I have been selling myself short all along.
I will go home to my father’s house, set it up the way I like it, write the stories I’ve always dreamed of writing, and finally live the life I’ve always wanted but never believed in myself enough to have. I’m going to take my life back.
The next morning proves to be an
other beautiful, sunny, mid-summer day, and after grabbing a quick bite to eat and some gas, I hit the open highway once more. In all the years we’d lived out west, we had never once made the drive through Canada to get home, always opting for flying once a year. As I make the long trip through the prairies, the yellow canola and purple flax fields roll as far as the eye can see. This country is truly beautiful, and I can’t believe that this is the first time I’m seeing it.
I drive all morning, stopping only for a quick bite to eat and a washroom break around noon. I’m just pulling out of the McDonald’s parking lot when the same crew of Kings of Korruption are pulling in. I can feel Hulk’s eyes tracking me as I approach and I thank God for the visor on my helmet that hides my blush. Just as I drive past him, I tip my head in a nod and keep moving.
I hit the road, intent on making it to my next destination before dark. I had heard horror stories of the moose on this particular highway, and don’t relish the idea of finding out if they are true while riding a motorcycle. I have about two hours to go when I round a bend in the road, just in time to see a truck coming from the opposite direction swerve and make a hard right. The truck flips two times before coming to rest upside down in the steep ditch.
My heart racing, I pull over and jump off my bike, barely noticing a man in the car ahead of me scrambling out of his own vehicle. Checking that nothing is coming, I run across the two lane highway—fear making my blood run cold at what I might find when I get there.
“Hello?” I call loudly. My breathing is ragged as I try not to slip going down the steep embankment into the ditch where the truck lays. I see no movement inside, and the only sounds I hear come from the hot metal pinging and the gravel tumbling from beneath my feet.
Approaching the driver’s side door, I get down on my hands and knees to peer in through the smashed out window. Inside, I see the driver, held in upside down in his seat by his seatbelt, a bloody gash on his forehead. He’s not conscious, and I fear that he may be dead.
“Is everyone okay?” a man calls from behind me as he approaches.
“I don’t know,” I call back. “I only see the one man and he’s not responding. Call 911!”
The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, and I leave him to the call, turning my attention back to the wreck. With a shaking hand, I reach inside and take the man’s dangling hand, searching for a pulse on his wrist. I feel it there, still pumping proudly, even though the man himself doesn’t wake up.
“Sir?” I call. “Sir, I need you to wake up!”
“How many occupants?” the man yells out from behind me.
“One,” I call back over my shoulder. “He’s unconscious, but has a pulse.”
The smell of hot metal and smoke fill the air as I turn back to the man and shake his shoulder. “Sir, can you hear me?”
“Oh, shit!” the man behind me calls out. “It’s on fire.” I turn and see him slowly backing up the hill, the phone still pressed to his ear as he looks at me with frantic eyes. “There’s a fire under the hood.”
I lean back, ignoring the gravel that cuts through my jeans and into my knees. I see the bright orange flames licking out from under the crushed hood. “Shit!” Not wanting to waste any time, I lean inside the cab, calling out as loudly as I can, praying I can wake this man up before the fire spreads to us. Reaching across his chest, I reach up and struggle with the clasp on his straining seat belt.
Finally, it comes undone and the man falls to the roof with a sickening thud. Flinching, I slap gently at his face, urgency weighing heavy on my chest. I know moving him is a bad idea, but I can’t leave him inside to burn. Scrunching up the material of his T-shirt, I pull and tug, falling on my ass as I try to turn his body so I can pull him out through the window.
Heat beats against my legs as I struggle with the huge man, and I know that I am running out of time. Turning, I search desperately for the man with the phone, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Knowing that I am the only chance this guy has, I grab onto his shirt, plant my feet on the ground, and take a deep breath, pulling with everything I have.
I barely get his shoulders through the opening before his shirt rips and I fall on my ass once again. Tears of fear and frustration pour from my eyes as I scream and slip my arms under his shoulders, giving another strong pull. I would feel victorious at pulling him out to his waist, but the flames have grown and smoke pours from the dash, mere inches from the unconscious man’s legs.
I’m just about to use what has to be the last of my waning strength to give him another yank when three men come out of nowhere, and I’m pulled upright into a standing position, my aching back screaming in protest. “Step back, Holly. We’ll get him.”
I stare up at Hulk in awe. His sudden appearance has me sagging against his body. My whole body aches from exertion as I watch the two other bikers pull the man out of the truck and up the embankment where they settle him on a small patch of grass. Hooking his arm around me, Hulk leads me along behind them, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth across my arm.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I tear my eyes away from the man on the ground and the big burly bikers checking him over. When my eyes meet his, I take a shaky breath and nod.
“That was so fuckin’ brave, what you did,” he says, his eyes searching mine.
I shake my head. “It was being a human being. I couldn’t leave him in there.”
He gives me a squeeze, his angry glare pinned on the man with the cell phone that had refused to help. Sirens scream towards us in the distance, and we both turn to watch the fire trucks as they approach.
I give Hulk a quick nod as he pulls out onto the road and fall in line behind him. The roar of the combined Harley engines of the club is deafening, but makes my heart race with an excitement I haven’t felt since riding on the back of my dad’s bike.
After the emergency crew and police arrived, we had all stood back and watched as the man from the truck was loaded into an ambulance and whisked away to the hospital. The police had taken our statements and thanked us for our quick action. They figured that he’d likely fallen asleep at the wheel and said that by the time the fire crews arrived, it would have been too late.
After that, Hulk had insisted I drive on to the next town with them to stop for the night. He was worried I would go into shock. Quite frankly, so was I. The thought of a hot shower and a stiff drink made my choice for me. Now, here I ride, amongst a long line of motorcycle men, ready to end this trip for the day.
After living all those years in monotony and boredom, these last couple of days have exhausted me. Watching that man get strapped to a gurney made me reflect on my decision to start fresh. Life can change or be over in the blink of an eye, and this man’s distress has only cemented my decision. I don’t want to be taking my last breath and looking back on my life, wondering why I had squandered it away.
We pull into a small motel in the middle of a tiny little town in Manitoba and I follow the guys into the reception area where I get myself a room. I turn to Hulk with a smile and hold up the magnetized key card. “Room 201.”
He nods. “Meet me out front in thirty.”
A thrill runs down my spine at those simple words said in that growly voice. Granted, I do not know this man at all, and the words we’d exchanged so far were few and far between. The thought of him waiting out front makes me very shy, all of the sudden.
“Okay,” I say, barely above a whisper. I turn and hurry to my room.
I drop my bag on the bed and head straight for the shower, stopping only when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. God, I look like hell! I have a serious case of helmet hair and my face is covered in dirt smudges and sweat. There’s no way Hulk had ulterior motives for asking me to meet him out front. This face, mixed with the thick stench of smoke does not scream “Fuck me.”
Shaking my head, I turn to the shower and do what I need to do to get myself ready to meet a bunch of badass bikers for
dinner and a drink. With exactly one minute to spare, I step out the door and see Hulk leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.
“Those things will kill you,” I say as I approach.
He shrugs and steps on the butt, taking a step towards me. “We all gotta die sometime. You look nice.”
I do. I know I do. I took the extra five minutes on my mass of curly blonde hair, arranging it into an attractive messy bun, high on my head. I’d also taken the time on my make-up to give my eyes a smoky look, accentuated by a shiny pink lip gloss on my lips. For the first time in a long time, I actually care what I look like, and if feels damn good to look pretty for a change.
I answer only with a grin and ask, “Where to?”
He studies me a moment before nodding across the street. “Bear’s Den Tavern.”
I follow as he starts walking, eyeing up the bar as we approach. It’s a biker bar, that much is clear. Motorcycles line the parking lot out front, and several men are outside, leaning against the building with a smoke in their hands as they laugh and shoot the shit with one another.
Hulk holds the door for me and I step inside, my eyes taking it all in. The place isn’t packed, but it’s busy for what I would assume a regular weeknight would be like in this little town. The wooden floorboards are old and dusty. The tables are there for use, not décor. Not the type of place I had ever gone to before in my life. I feel Hulk’s hand on the small of my back as he guides me to a small table in the back corner, away from his friends, who I see sitting at a large table in the center of the room.
A waitress with a friendly smile, and a tired, raspy voice follows along behind us, then seats us and takes our order. I order myself a whiskey and coke and smile inwardly when Hulk looks at me in surprise. I finish my order off, asking for a plate of nachos, then it’s my turn to be surprised when Hulk makes the same order.
“So, where you headed, Holly?”
“Perth?” I say, but it comes out like a question.
