by Vivian Lux
Case paused, unsure of what to say. It always made him uncomfortable to hear of Crash's life before the club. From what little he knew, he came from a comfortable home, raised by doting and loving grandparents. But he didn't talk to them any more. The accident had robbed him of his memories, as well as his old personality. He had people who were waiting for him to remember them. But the new Crash, the post-crash Crash, didn't recognize them anymore.
Losing people like that, the very thought of it, plucked at something deep and essential in Case's heart. It made him practically panicky to think of his brothers searching for him, but him being unable to recognize them as Hunter and Jonah.
Or Lexi. He was startled when her name came unbidden into his brain. Lexi, Lexi, it clanged through his addled head like a bell.
It was because Crash mentioned red hair, he thought pushing her face from his mind. That was the only reason he was thinking of her.
Lexi with the flame red hair, those wild curls that so suited her temper and stubborn nature. Those velvety brown eyes, warm and soothing like cinnamon. Those delicious freckles that so completely covered her body, that from far away she looked like she had a tan. It was only when you got close to her, only when you brought your gaze right up to her creamy skin that you could distinguish the pale white glow that lurked underneath. He could spend a lifetime staring into the universe of that skin.
And for many a languid afternoon, he did just that. Sitting at the foot of her tiny, ridiculously ruffled twin bed, listening to her talk, her words just spilling over him in a wash of comforting noise, as he relaxed into the rhythm of her completely normal house. This was how it was supposed to be. With a father who stuck around, working an admirable job, and doting on his three daughters with overbearing love. A mother who dressed and showered every day, and cared for her children with motherly concern that seems to bother everyone but him. He loved it when Mrs. Delaney clucked over him. He loved being told to stand up straight, to cut his hair, to tuck in his shirt.
Of course he had to keep his secrets around them. He could never let down his guard, not even for one minute. Mr. Delaney was a cop, the enemy. One false move would bring a swarm of social workers through his mother's door, wrenching his brothers free and scattering his family to the four winds. It was a betrayal of his brothers for him to even hang out at the Delaneys' house. He knew that if they got home to the house before he did, he wouldn't be there to protect them if his mother was in one of her rages. So his eye was always darting to the window, looking for their little blond forms in their subsidized school uniforms, as they walked the mere mile it took for them to come home from the Catholic school down the street. Mac had helped him get them registered this year. Mac had walked into the administrative offices, his hair neatly combed for maybe the first time in twenty years, pretending to be the grandfather to the three Ericsson boys. His intervention had got them the first stable school year in Hunter and Jonah's young lives, and they were thriving. Case swore he would pay back for the tuition, and Mac nodded like he was taking him seriously.
The work Mac had lined up for him was interesting. He would come over after school, on days when he wasn't at Lexi's, and Mac would show him how to dismantle an engine piece by piece. When they would finish a bike, Max sometimes let him take it up their quiet street. At first he would go slow, so slowly he almost would fall off. It was a weird sensation to feel the wind hit his face, and the first time a June bug thwacked him in the forehead, he had a bruise for a week afterward. The old man had laughed at him for a very long time, longer than he had ever seen him smile since he'd started coming around, and Case had grinned too, in spite of the pain. He understood why the old man loved motorcycles, loved biking, loved the art of repairing something with his bare hands.
"Yo, where did you go?"
Case turned slowly, surprised to see Crash still standing there. The alcohol had gone to his head, forcing him to relive old memories both good and bad. "Sorry, he shook his head. "What were you saying?"
Crash sighed. "Okay, I can take a fuckin' hint."
"No man, I'm sorry." Case smiled, trying to feign nonchalance. "Redheads man, you got me thinking about one in particular."
Crash bounced slightly, clearly happy to be back on less serious ground. "Yeah, she was something else. When I left her this morning, she was still sprawled out on my couch. I'm kind of hoping she's still there when I get back."
"Yeah man, I hope so too," Case said encouragingly. He had never seen Crash so excited about a girl before. Usually they came and went, blinking through his existence like a passing breeze. Maybe this would be the one who stayed, like Emmy was for J. His brothers were starting to pair off around him, and he was still alone. Still stuck in the past with a pair of cinnamon colored eyes and all the pain and sorrow they had brought him.
Chapter 19
Lexi
I should get up.
I had no idea what time it was. My cell phone was in my purse, which was somewhere in this apartment. At least I hoped it was. I had no recollection of having it on me last night. I barely had any recollection of last night.
Only a vague sensation of something happening, or almost happening, and then being prevented by the sudden reappearance of the shorn headed biker who had gotten me drunk in the first place. Drunk on bourbon and his kisses.
I didn't know where he had appeared from. Was he following me? Why was he on the street in the first place?
My natural suspicion fought with my gratitude. Because if he hadn't shown up, I had no idea what those frat boys might have done to me. This was what happened when I tried to be a new Lexi. This was the consequence I faced for trying to step out of my comfort zone.
I knew I needed to get back to my house. Or more likely, given the angle of the light that shone through the grimy window onto this soiled, smelly carpet, I needed to get right to class. My exam.
Holy shit, my fucking exam.
I sat up way too quickly and the whole room shifted sideways. I had to swallow several times to keep from vomiting onto Crash's coffee table. Wave after wave of nausea hit me and I groaned out loud. My mouth felt like an old dirty gym sock. My head pounded like a gong, sounding and clanging over and over. Punishment that suited my crime.
With a muffled groan I sank back into the couch and closed my eyes. It was better to just stay here until the room stopped moving.
When I woke again, the patch of light on the carpet had moved considerably closer to the window. I sat back up again, this time much more carefully, and tested my limbs. I felt dried up, and worn out, but my head no longer pounded like a jack hammer, and I could move slightly without worrying that I would keel over from the nausea.
It was only then that I noticed that I was alone. "Hello?" I called into the empty apartment, feeling foolish. And also slightly indignant. He must have heard my groans, if he were here. If he were in my house, I would have a least brought him a glass of water. "Hello?" I called again.
Nothing.
Well that answered that. He left me alone in here.
I guess that's the best I could hope for. After all he really didn't know me. He only knew me as some girl who got too drunk, kissed him, then ran away and nearly got herself yanked into an alleyway by a bunch of assholes. For all he knew I was an ax murderer. For all I knew, he was something similar.
The slight fear this thought brought to my brain forced me to stand up, leaving the safety and sanctity of my nest on his couch, with the pillow that smelled strangely soothing and similar. It was the smell from long ago, something that tickled my brain and the deepest recesses of my memory, but I couldn't identify. All I knew was that it smelled like comfort, like home. Like the smell of someone close to me.
But if the person were close to me, why couldn't I identify it? I leaned over gingerly and sniffed. It wasn't a shampoo, or a body wash. It was an elemental scent, the smell of a person in their purest form. It made me smile, and it made me sad, and I didn't know why.
I
stepped reluctantly away. I needed water and my phone in that order.
Crash's kitchen was barely more than a cubbyhole, but it was surprisingly clean. I felt a small rush of affection, and gratitude to see my purse sitting on the counter. I quickly rifled through it and found my phone, and when I did my heart dropped straight to my shoes.
It was 11:21 AM. My exam had started twenty-one minutes ago.
I tried to move in several directions at once, and only succeeded in shuffling awkwardly in the middle of the curling linoleum. There was no way I could get myself down to CCP in time. There was no way I could make it to the exam, and even if there was, there was no guarantee I would be allowed to step in so late. There was nothing I could do, and yet I still continued to flutter my hands in desperate flapping motions as I willed myself to teleport into the lecture hall. My heart pounded in my throat. My parents were going to kill me. I was going to kill me. Ingrid would only laugh and laugh and laugh, she would never stop laughing. In the end I would have to kill her too.
Slowly, ever so slowly, my panic subsided. I located a glass in the cupboard next to the sink, and ran the tap.
If there was nothing I could do, then I was free to do nothing. The thought was oddly elating.
I sipped my water slowly, letting the cold rush down my throat, feeling my cells returned to life. I sit and stepped, staring fixedly at a point on the countertop. There was a mark there, some scuff or an old settled in grease stain, and it annoyed me. I turned in a slow circle, wondering foolishly where Crash kept his cleaners, before I finally chuckled out loud. Grabbing the dried-up sponge that sat on the side of the sink, I wet it and turned it to the side with the scrubber. All it took was a little elbow grease, and a lot of dish soap, and the marks succumbed to my treatment.
I splashed some water in my face, and peered at myself in the warped bathroom mirror. I didn't know what I was still doing here. I should have gone home ages ago, and yet I had stayed like I had a place here. I felt light inside, when I should have felt nothing but guilt over my missed exam. I knew what hell waited for me when I did get home, and it suddenly felt stupid and trivial.
A million rebellions whirled in my brain as I stepped into the achingly brilliant sunshine. A million ways to redefine myself, each more far fetched than the last. But nothing was so rebellious as the piece of paper I had left near the sink. The one with my name and phone number scrawled across.
Chapter 20
Lexi
My mother had sounded like she wanted to reach through the phone and finish the work the imaginary murderers hadn't accomplished. I only was able to get her off the phone by telling her I was at my professor's door.
"Miss Delaney." I was surprised Professor Schwartz knew my name, until I remembered that up until two days ago, I was in the front row of every class. "We missed you this morning."
My mother's screaming disappointment mixed with the pounding in my head. The bright afternoon light that streamed in to his dusty office seared my eyeballs.
So it was very easy to start crying.
"Professor Schwartz, I know I missed the exam."
He immediately looked alarmed, reaching quickly for a box of tissues on his desk and handing it to me. I blew my nose noisily and he looked away in obvious discomfort.
"Last night, I went to a celebration, just a small get-together to celebrate the end of exams." That was what it was supposed to have been, so I didn't have to stumble over the lie. "I was walking back to my car when, when, these guys, they um...."
Professor Schwartz looked immediately horrified. "Miss Delaney, are you okay? Did you call the police?"
I held up my hand. My tears were falling for real now, the realization of what Crash had saved me from starting to set in. "No, my, uh, friend. He scared them off. But I was all shaken up so I uh, forgot to set my alarm." I rolled up the leg of my jeans and showed him the scrape from the ice. "This is where I slipped when one of them grabbed me."
The professor's thick eyebrows knitted into a knot on his forehead as he handed me another tissue. I took a deep breath. "May I please take the exam now?"
"Now, Miss Delaney? Don't you need some time to collect yourself?"
If I did I would loose my nerve. "No, Professor, please. I need to put this behind me."
He nodded in grim understanding and reached into his desk drawer. "Do you have a pen?"
I settled into the chair by the window and began scratching away. The sun was shining brilliantly, and I could hear the drip drip of the melting icicles on the roof above my head. The antsiness seemed to jumpstart my brain and I was surprised about the insights I suddenly had about the ramifications of Manifest Destiny. The melting snow was retreating quickly from the pavement outside and in the two hours I spent in my professor's office, puddles were starting to form.
I handed him my exam with a flourish, more confident of my success than I ever had been. "Thank you, Professor," I smiled.
"You're a remarkable young woman, Miss Delaney," he said solemnly.
I ducked my head at the undeserved compliment and walked through the hallway and through the double doors out onto the concourse and breathed a sigh of relief. I got away with it. I can't believe I got away with it.
The jubilation hit me just as the sunshine struck me in the face. It was weirdly warm outside. I eagerly shed my snow jacket and felt the cool wind mix with the warm sunshine and the steady drip drip of everything melting around me.
Then I felt my phone vibrate. An incoming text.
"Hey Lexi. It's Crash. What are you doing?"
I practically jumped out of my skin. "Hey! Just finished an exam."
"Cool."
"Not really, but yeah!"
"You free now?"
"For the rest of the afternoon." I sure as shit wasn't about to go home.
"Wanna go for a ride?"
I was about to reply when my phone buzzed again. "Where are you???? You missed the exam!!!! Are you alive??????"
Ingrid. I tapped furiously, not wanting to keep Crash waiting. "I'm alive. In the concourse."
"Be right there."
I impatiently swiped her message aside and returned to Crash's message. I stared at it. A ride? Like, on a motorcycle? Sure it was weirdly warm, but it was still December.
"Sure!" I typed back. What the hell was I doing?
My phone buzzed immediately. "Where are you?"
"17th and Spring Garden," I typed. "CCP."
"Be right there."
I staggered over to one of the benches and plopped myself down, not caring that my butt was instantly soaked. Two days ago I was trapped in my parents house, bored and restless. Now I suddenly had a biker interested in me.
I was still shaking my head when Ingrid came rushing over in a flurry of handbags and accessories. "You're alive!" she shouted across the concourse.
I blinked, realizing my head was still pretty tender. "Barely."
She fluttered over to me and stared. "You look like shit, Delaney. Are those the same clothes as last night?" Her eyes widened. She dropped everything she was carrying and clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god, where did you sleep last night? Who was it?"
I held up my hand. "Don't freak out."
Her eyes sparkled with vicious realization and she laughed. "So after all that shit you yelled at me about not being a slut...."
"Stop..."
"You went and slept with him anyway! Ha!" she shrieked in triumph.
"Ingrid. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was freaked out. But I didn't sleep with him." I paused and let a slow grin spread across my face. "I slept over though."
Her shriek echoed off every surrounding building. "What?!?!?"
My phone buzzed and I looked down, knowing that the wide grin on my face was only driving her madder. "Can you walk with me?"
"Yes!" She grabbed her ridiculously number of bags and stared at me. "Are you going to tell me what happened after you left or am I going to have to beat you with this Coach bag?"
&
nbsp; I cocked my head. "Nah, too small. What's the brand of that one?"
She looked at the one I pointed to. "The Birkin? Okay, stop, before we go any further, I need you to explain how you don't recognize one of the most iconic bags in design history."
I held up my purse. "Got it at Target."
Her eyes rolled back so far I only saw white. "I'd say you were hopeless except for the fact that you clearly had a far more interesting night than I did. I was in bed at midnight. After Crash left, that party just...died."
We reached the corner of 17th and I checked my phone again. Just as I looked down, I heard it.
"Is that...?" Ingrid squinted in the bright sunshine, trying to make out the approaching figure. I heard the loud rumble of the motorcycle and a thrill coursed through my body and made my toes curl inside my boots.
Crash pulled up along the sidewalk, slipping his motorcycle expertly into a cleared space. The gleaming chrome of his Harley glinted, making it look like he was twinkling. But there was nothing twinkling about the black, patch covered leather he was wearing. The deep black sunglasses obscured the good humor in his eyes and I was momentarily frightened.
Then he took them off and his blue eyes were crinkled and his mouth was stretched wide in an eager and slightly abashed grin. "Hey Lexi. Hey...uh...I never got your name."
"Ingrid." She darted forward with her hand outstretched, less in an attempt to shake his hand and more to touch him. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Guess I'm pretty fucked then," he grinned, watching as her hand fluttered along his arm.
The little mother in me just couldn't help but rear her nagging head. "You aren't wearing a helmet?" was the first dumb question that popped into my brain. I could have killed myself for ruining the moment.
Crash turned back to me and leaned back in his seat. "The devil had his chance to take me a while back and he didn't," he answered amiably. "Guess I figure he doesn't want me, so I'm in the clear."
