Burnout

by Stacia Leigh

  What a blowhard. Miki turned on the picnic bench to face Trip, who had his chrome prosthesis propped up on the metal grate. He had a hot body and wore black athletic shorts, proud to show off his fake limb. The rest of him was all muscle. Why couldn’t she like him? He was quiet and gorgeous, and if one caught him in the right mood, he’d drop nuggets of pure wisdom. He was like her personal Magic 8 Ball.

  “Why do I have to be related to Owen again?” And the answer is…?

  “He’s only looking out for you,” Trip said. “Better to have him be with you than against you. Count ‘em…small blessings.”

  “Right.” She smiled. “Well, Trip. This has been fun, but now I’m off to talk to Will,” she whispered dramatically, “in his tent.”

  “You’re asking for trouble,” Trip said, pulling a hunting knife out of its leather sheath. He felt the blade with his thumb and pursed his lips.

  “Why does everyone always tell me that?”

  He laughed softly, rolling a green branch between his fingers. “I think you know why,” he said and cut off the broad leaves.

  “No.” Miki rubbed hands over her face and growled into her palms. “I really don’t.”

  “Miki…” He turned toward her and gave her a thoughtful look. “You’re a beautiful girl.”

  “I am?” She straightened. This could be it. He was about to drop a nugget. She searched his face. His five o’clock shadow was right on time, and his skin was tanned under his buzzcut. Enlighten me, Oh, Wise One.

  “And not only on the outside.” He nodded in a shy sort of way, carving off a strip of bark. He murmured, “No crumbs for you.”

  “Trip,” Miki said softly and smiled as she stood. “Thank you. No one’s ever said anything so…nice to me before.”

  “I bet they have,” he said and cut another strip off like he was peeling a raw potato. “Only, you don’t listen.”

  Maybe she didn’t, but she’d keep her ears open from now on because those few words—wow! They warmed her. Her dad should take lessons from Trip because why couldn’t he say something like that to her?

  “I guess I should go pack, huh? It’s getting kind of late. Shouldn’t we be leaving for Burnout?”

  “We’re chilling here for another night. Club business, yadda, yadda. You might as well settle in.”

  “Where’s my dad?”

  Trip chuckled. “Nope, not going there.”

  She blew out a long breath and automatically headed toward Will’s tent flaps, but she made a hard right and crawled inside her own instead. No matter how much she wanted to tell him their plan was shot to hell, to snuggle and be with him, he wasn’t her boyfriend, or her buddy, and she wasn’t accepting crumbs anymore. She didn’t owe him anything…and after what he said to her? Basically throwing her own words back in her face—so embarrassing! She wasn’t one of those easy, needy girls. She was beautiful, like Trip said, inside and out…and strong, too, dammit!

  Why’d she dye her hair blue? Because she could. It was wild and new and hers. She didn’t need her dad’s approval then, and she didn’t need it now. Starting at this moment, she wasn’t going to care where he was or who he was with.

  She dropped onto her sleeping bag and stared at the rain flap. It was green.

  Green like an old survival bracelet…like a cast…like a track suit.

  Miki sat up and squeezed her temples; it was hard being a new person. It was hard not to care.

  The tarp crinkled as she crawled across the tent floor. Yes, she was an idiot, but she had to see Will.

  “Finally! What took you so long?” Will scooted aside as she climbed in. “I’ve been waiting forever,” he groused, pulling a deck of cards from his pack.

  His sleeping bag had been smoothed out, and his stuff was picked up and orderly. Even though it looked as if he’d been busy with housekeeping, it still smelled like mildew and camp smoke.

  “You could’ve come to my tent.” Why did she always have to go to him? If he wanted to talk to her, he could have made the effort.

  Effort. She hated that word.

  “And get my ass kicked? No thanks.” He shuffled the cards.

  “You’re going to get it kicked anyway, so brace yourself. Are we playing?” She picked up the cards he’d dealt her. “What’s the game?”

  “Rummy. Jokers wild,” he said. “It’s getting late, and we haven’t talked about the plan. When are we heading out?”

  “Things have changed. The guys are staying another night,” Miki said while organizing her hand. What a sucky shuffle job! If they were playing poker, she’d wipe the tent floor with him. “But maybe this works out to our advantage anyway. I mean, we could still leave, sneak off on our own when it gets dark, like around nine-ish. We’ll push my bike to the end of the loop, and ride it on out of here. How does that sound?”

  Will studied her over the top of his cards to the point of awkwardness. Why was he giving her the smoky-brown eyes? She wiped the side of her mouth in case there was something on her face, then shifted uneasily on his sleeping bag. He looked away, pulling a card from the draw pile.

  “I…your turn,” he said and scratched his brow. “I also, uh…I’m sorry for what I said, you know, about you being the easiest person. I was being a smartass. However, I do stand by my earlier comment about how being with you is not easy.” He blushed, and normally she would have found that absolutely adorable. But he sucked at apologies, so she imagined smacking him alongside the head instead.

  “Keep digging that hole, Sullivan, and you’ll end up walking to the Powerhouse Inn.” She drew and discarded.

  “Powerhouse what? No. We are not going back there.”

  “Yes…we are. I want to see Pinecone, Will. She knows something. When she heard your name, she got all fumble-fingered. My gut says we need to check it out, and it’s on the way home. Right where you want to go, remember…to hide?” She glared him down. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. He was going to the Powerhouse Inn, whether he liked it or not.

  “Truce, alright?” He held up his green cast like a white flag. “I won’t throw what you say back in your face if you’ll do the same for me. I want to find my Dad and my brother, okay? I need to find them alive. I have to, and I trust your instincts. If you think Pinecone has answers, I’m there.”

  Were the stars aligned? Because she’d gotten two ginormous compliments in less than an hour. She didn’t know what to say but it seemed like a precious thing to have Will’s trust because he was so stingy with it.

  “Royal flush.” She spread her cards out into an arc as wide as her winning smile and tossed the other cards aside.

  “Dude…” He shook his head. “We’re playing rummy.”

  “You’re playing rummy, and how’s that working out for ya?” She laughed.

  “Miki!” Owen’s voice barked on the other side of the tent’s wall. Okay, fun’s over. Her brother either had the worst timing or the best, she couldn’t decide.

  “I’m in Will’s tent, playing poker,” she yelled over her shoulder. She lifted her brows at Will. “My gut says it’s time for me to leave.”

  He leaned back against his pack, and on a scale between bored and resolved, he still looked like a ten. Sexy devil.

  “Please do,” he said and tossed his cards onto the pile.

  God it felt good to leave. She could annoy the hell out of him, still be herself, and not worry that he didn’t like her. She released herself from his tent, from his clutches, and glided out into the open air.

  I’m my own woman!

  * * *

  Will surveyed the smooth stick Trip had carved for him. It was like a flat wooden spoon the size of a pencil. It slid easily between his forearm and cast, so he could finally reach the mind-numbing itch. Thank you, baby Jesus. It…felt…cosmic. He groaned as he shimmied the scratching stick back and forth, in and out, while taking in the puny campfire.

  It was a dainty H.O.H. gathering tonight since, according to Miki, a majority of the guys had left for
Burnout after a late breakfast. A few more peeled away at their own pace, leaving the prospects on clean up duty and Dad’s motley crew behind. Well, everyone except the good ol’ prez and his new gal pal, Val. Will hadn’t seen them since this morning. Leo the Lion: president, father, friend, brother…what a huge a-hole.

  The rest—Flossy, Trip, and Owen—didn’t make up a very rowdy crowd tonight. They were putting off a weird vibe of somber, mostly sober, and unusually alert. They’d even offered Will a beer, ignoring Uncle Shorty’s edict: No drinking for Willy Boy.

  It had been hard saying no as he chewed through a spicy chili dog laden with onions and cheddar cheese, but he did, and he felt like he deserved a pat on the back for good behavior. Although, what he really wanted was to pop some pain pills and grab a catnap. He should have done it back when he had the chance. Now, it was too late. The sun was setting, the fire was crackling, and very soon, he’d be riding off with Miki, chasing the pain again.

  He stole another glance at her through the wavering heat and smoke. Boots instead of flip flops, jeans instead of the obvious I’m-going-for-a-ride leather pants, and a snug t-shirt. She was busy laughing it up with Trip.

  So yeah, no booze, no pills, only aches and Miki, which was synonymous with pain…as in a pain in the ass.

  She’d said she didn’t like him anymore. Why? What’d he ever do to her? She’d liked him for as long as he could remember, then in a snap, it’s done. All from his one lame comment? C’mon, he was fairly sure he’d made plenty of ‘em before, and it hadn’t meant anything. Only showed she couldn’t be loyal if she tried.

  Will, this is your mother speaking, and that is the most inane argument I’ve ever—

  Yeah, yeah. The whole thing was stupid. They weren’t going out, and they weren’t really friends, just stuck in a cycle of her flirting and him trying to keep up without getting hurt. She waffled hot and cold from a ray of sun on his face to a bucket of ice down his pants. Boom. Not easy. Not in the slightest.

  Last year’s closet scene was a huge eye-opener. She’d made up the rules, she’d selected him, she’d rolled the erotic dice.

  Bite and Butt

  Will tried not to blush in front of the others, but he felt like a monk at a biker rally with the words Bite and Butt staring back at him, black on white. Miki threw her shoulders into the couch and laughed, her teeth showing brightly against her tan skin. No zombie lips tonight. No black licorice.

  “At least I didn’t roll Bite your Nipples because sometimes I get feisty. I wouldn’t wanna hurt you,” she said and wagged her brows.

  Jesus. I am a gentleman. I repeat: I am a gentleman. Wait…who was biting who again? He didn’t really know how the game worked since he hadn’t been paying attention. His mind had been wrapped around debugging the Grand Theft Auto game. It kept crashing at the start—

  Miki crooked her finger at him, so he automatically pushed off the couch and followed her, willing and kind of eager to leave behind the video game and the four others in their group. When the closet door closed, everything turned black and surreal. He couldn’t see anything, yet his imagination went wild as his senses prickled with awareness. Delicate fingers skated up his elbows and biceps, and he stooped to feel her warm breath on his neck. She pressed her body into his, and her hands explored his back. His heart ratcheted up and felt like it might explode. He inhaled the scent of her skin; she licked his. He groaned. She sighed. They were like crickets, their legs rubbing together.

  Only a few hours earlier, he’d bought her an ice cream cone, and she’d asked for his number. A big moment, right? This was big, too. In the back of his mind, a voice chirped to slow things down because seven minutes wasn’t nearly long enough to get where they were heading. Did this mean they were going out, or was something more formal required to make it legit? He wouldn’t mind holding Miki’s hand and kissing her in public. He could call her his GF when he introduced her to his non-biker friends. This is Miki Holtz, my girlfriend.

  The whole thing felt right…her hands on him, his lips on hers…them being together.

  “Miki,” he whispered next to her ear, “I like y—”

  Ding-ding-ding!

  With a gust, the door whipped open, throwing in shards of light. He jerked back into the leather coat sleeves, and before his eyes could adjust, Miki pulled away. Everyone clustered around, chattering excitedly for details.

  “Did you bite his butt or did he bite yours?”

  “Oh, my God. How far did you go?”

  “Which buttons are undone?”

  “Will! Stay in the closet because I’m next.”

  He blinked in a daze while Miki stood with her back to him. One of the girls, Izzy with the weird last name, tried to push past. But Miki cocked her elbow out to block the doorway and then flapped a hand under her nose with dramatic flare.

  “Game over,” she said and wrinkled her nose with humorous disgust. “Will here just filled the closet with the aroma of Mona’s bean dip.” Someone made a farting noise, and Miki laughed. “It totally reeks.”

  He blinked and opened his mouth to defend himself, but he was too stunned. What should he say? He’d been about to ask her out, and all she had on her mind was making fun of him in front of everyone. His whole body flooded with the burn of humiliation.

  In the span of a day, he’d gone from being one cool dude to feeling like a gullible loser. If only the closet would swallow him whole and spit out the pieces…

  …far, far away from here.

  Will shook himself out of his reverie and searched Miki out. She wasn’t hard to find, straight blue hair glinting by the fire, still grinning up at Trip, who apparently was a comedian. So what, right? It didn’t matter. The fun and games were long over. With the darkening sky, it had to be nine o’clock by now.

  It was time to ride.

  CHAPTER 11: The Dark Side

  “Hey, Miki, how about another hand of poker?” Will nudged her with his hip while giving Trip the standard chin-nod. Dude, this isn’t the girl you’re looking for…go about your business. Trip returned the gesture. Chill, bro. Everything’s cool.

  “A glutton for punishment?” She smiled, and Will nodded.

  When he breathed in, he felt an internal shift, which had him resting a hand over his guts. Sure, he had a bruised spleen, but the ache seemed more mental than medical at the moment. His insides churned and scraped like a glacier ready for the big thaw; he was coming alive. It’s how he envisioned the getting-off-his-ass-and-doing-something part.

  Hang on, Dad, Liam. I’m coming for you. I don’t know where or when or how. I don’t know anything really, but…hang on.

  “Hear that, Owen?” She faced her brother with hands on her hips. “I’m playing cards with Will and guess where? In his tent.” She poised for his reaction, but Owen merely crossed his arms and glanced at the sky as if searching for something violent to say. He took too long, and Miki was done. She turned to Will. “Texas hold’em sound good?”

  “Sure.” Will touched her elbow. Move along, move along.

  “What’s poker without beer, Gadget?” Flossy lobbed a cold one at Will. The bottle clanked against his cast, and he fumbled with it down the length of his shirt. Finally in his possession, he held it up. Brown glass, no label. It had a flip-top lid and was sealed with a rubber gasket.

  “What’s this?”

  “Mook’s home brew. He left a few behind, so there’s plenty.” Flossy dug through the cooler for another one and graciously wiped off the melting ice before handing it to Miki. “There ya go. Knock yourselves out.”

  “Why are you giving them Mook’s beer?” Trip asked with a frown.

  “Don’t forget,” Flossy murmured. “You’re a prospect.”

  “I’ll ask, then.” Owen pulled his shoulders up and glowered. “Is it necessary? Why waste it on them?”

  Flossy tilted his head back and looked down the length of his nose at Owen, whose lip curled like a dog. Their fists were clenched ready for blows. Flossy d
idn’t like explaining himself, and Owen didn’t know how to stand down.

  Will took a step back, ready for a brawl. What was the big deal about a couple beers anyway? Talk about unwarranted aggression.

  “You want another hotel incident? I don’t,” Flossy muttered through his whiskers. His voice was low and hard to hear. Then, he spoke louder. “Leo said keep everyone in camp. What better way to do it?” He stepped away from Owen, ending the testosterone challenge. “Right, kids? Let’s have a beer and relax.” He nodded his beard at Will and Miki while Owen visibly fought to simmer down. Will wanted to yell at him, Hey, Anger Management called, and they’re missing their biggest meathead. But instead, he turned away to follow Miki to his tent. She had a way of shrugging her brother off, which he admired immensely.

  She unzipped the flaps and climbed inside as Flossy laughed and said, “It’s called Babysitting 101.” Will scoffed, clicking on the electric lantern. They didn’t need to be babysat. He wanted to flip ‘em all off, but more important things lay in wait. The sooner the horde forgot about them and got back to drinking, the faster he and Miki could breeze on out of here.

  Will made a seat on his sleeping bag and studied the beer. One sip would taste so good. Maybe two. If he downed the bottle, he’d be “right as rain,” as Uncle Shorty would say. He could still ride bitch, one beer wouldn’t kill him.

  “If you touch that beer, I’ll kill you,” Miki said softly.

  Will looked at her. No frown, no posing, she was only stating the facts. Her big brown eyes didn’t waver from his, leaving no doubt she’d use the row of silver skull rings on her fingers to knock his lights out. His brow furrowed.

  “Calm down. I wasn’t going to,” he muttered and reached for his backpack. Mook’s home brew was definitely coming along, a celebratory drink to share with Dad and Liam.

  “Don’t you know you’re never supposed to tell a woman to ‘calm down’?”