Burnout

by Stacia Leigh

  Black and silver whiskers and blue tattoos glowed around the dancing flames. Most were men, but there were a few women. Her eyes dialed in on a big, busty blonde. Valentina. She looked like a giant pillow, all billowing white fabric and soft cleavage. She truly was a knock-out. How could a greasy headed, snoose-chewer like Greer even get on her radar? It just wasn’t possible. It seemed more likely that Valentina used him. Yeah. Maybe to get answers? She called him when they were being hauled away in the van. Was she an informer? Was she somehow trying to determine her and Will’s location? Interesting. She was probably one of Dad’s rats. It was way more plausible than Big Val cuddling up to a disgusting P-Skull like Greer.

  Valentina’s long blonde hair fell back as she laughed at something Dad said. She caught Miki’s eye. Her burgundy glossed lips quirked into a half smile, showing a I know that you know look. Or maybe it was an I got what I wanted look. Miki opted for her own blank slate, because honestly, she didn’t know what to feel at the moment. A chamber in her heart was having a hard time caring.

  She dropped her shoulders and glanced up at the smoke and the stars. She was alive. She’d saved Will, and she—

  Why was everyone looking at her?

  Suddenly, Trip was there, pushing a cold, wet beer into her hands. “Miki!”

  Owen strapped his arm around her legs, and she shrieked with surprise as he scooped her up toward the sky. She grasped at his short hair, trying to keep balanced on his one broad shoulder while the guys cheered. Owen bounced her, and she laughed. What the hell was this all about?

  Dad held up a bottle of beer across the blazing fire.

  “To my daughter!” he bellowed to his men. “Most of the time, she’s a pain in my ass!” The guys whooped and hollered. They quieted, and Dad continued. “She doesn’t listen to a damn word I say and back-talks to beat the contraband.” Laughter circled around the flames, and Owen jostled her above their heads.

  Her eyes narrowed, but she managed to keep a smile in place. Where was he going with this speech? It better pick up, because so far, it was uninspired and unimpressive at best.

  “To my little Miki-Lou, a beauty like her mother. But she’s not so little anymore, right Will?” Chuckles went around, and all eyes shot to Will’s stunned face. He looked like he either wanted to die or wanted to kill someone. Miki felt her cheeks glow with embarrassment. God…why?

  “Okay, Dad…” Miki kicked her feet to get down, but Owen tilted his knees like he’d drop her head first if she didn’t cooperate. “You’ve had your—”

  “She’s a brave young woman who kicks ass when it truly counts. I’m proud of you, girl. So tip your cups, and let’s drink to Miki…she’s got bigger balls than any damn P-skull out there!”

  “Yee! Yee!” Flossy chanted and chugged half his drink before shaking it and spraying foam down her front.

  Miki slapped at her wet t-shirt. “Floss—”

  “Pass her around!” Dad’s voice yelled above the crowd. Suddenly, the full beer was pulled out of her hand, and she went horizontal.

  “No! Wait!”

  Fingers walked along her back, pushing her forward, up and down. She flailed as beer sloshed on her face and soaked her hair. Hands patted at her and words of acceptance, the ones she’d always yearned for—from her dad, from the Hides of Hell brotherhood—coated her body along with the hops and barley.

  “Way to go.”

  “Kick ass, babe.”

  “To Miki!”

  She was dropped in front of her dad, drenched and laughing. She slicked the wet hair out of her face and waited for him to finish slamming his beer. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he dropped the bottle to his side with a loud “Ah!” His dark eyes sparkled, reflecting the fire, and he nodded at her before pulling her into a brief but tight hug.

  This entire celebration was not necessary. He could have patted her on the back and said, You make me proud, and that would have been enough. It was as overwhelming as it was amazing, but it was her dad’s way. Her cheek rested against his leather, and she murmured, “I love you, Dad.”

  “Miki-Lou…” he said and let her go. He didn’t return the words, but she got it; they were there all the same. He straightened. “You’ve run off twice. Don’t let there be a third time.” He warned her with a stern face, before his lips crooked up into a smile, one she could see and appreciate since his face was clean shaven.

  “You’ve got a great kid, Leo,” Val said.

  “I know.” His arm snaked around Valentina’s waist, and he pulled her in for a demonstrative nuzzle under her ear. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck, and gave a throaty giggle.

  Oh, man, her dad was gone. Miki stepped back and lifted her brows with a message for Val: You put the G in good’n’gross.

  Val grinned easily and pushed her puckered-up lips onto Leo the Lion’s. Miki had been dismissed, but there was no longer the burn of rejection. Ultimately, she was in charge of her happiness—she had her way, and Dad had his—and taking a long, hot shower was job one. The couple before her grappled with each other’s hair and moaned through sloppy kisses. Did they even remember she was standing here? Miki turned away. The creepy Greer had said it best.

  Who gives a rat’s corn-hole?

  CHAPTER 21: Back in Black

  Twitter…what was the word his mom used to say? Some vintage romance thing. When Dad came home after a long ride, she’d clutch her heart and laugh. Right…twitterpated. Will’s heart thrummed with it. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Miki all night, not because her t-shirt was wet or because her eyes were dark and intoxicating or her skin sticky with beer. It was because he wanted to talk to her.

  He had something to say, but in the cab she was barely awake, and with everyone shouting their names from the bonfire, the mood was off. Then, Leo had to go and call him out in front of everyone—She’s not so little anymore, right Will?—and he’d wanted to skulk into the cool trees and away from the hot fire. Jesus, was he transparent? Sure, he’d always liked her, but he’d simultaneously disliked her, too, for making him feel like an out-of-control fool at her mercy. They were opposites. Her speed was fast; his was slow. She was a mover and a shaker; he liked his couch. Miki always seemed to get her way; she was lucky. Not him.

  Not usually.

  He’d always said she was synonymous with trouble, and without a doubt she’d proved it. If he’d had his way, he’d be at home, sulking under a growing layer of dust. She used to push him around—not physically but mentally—and he felt like a bear being poked by a stick, growling, Leave me the hell alone! But that was before.

  He watched her blue crown weave through the mass of thick arms and wild man-hair to her usual green dome tent. She unzipped it and ducked inside. MS. TROUBLE with the caps on was out of sight, yet still on his mind.

  Now, instead of wanting to be alone, he found himself searching for her. In the past week, he’d been shoved in and out of his comfort zone, yet through the whole experience, Miki was there, positive, bright. Like a ray of sunshine. He needed more of the same in his life. More of her.

  Being with her made him stronger inside, like she had a square-to-spare through osmosis. No more alcohol, no more drugs, no more lounging on the peach floral couch. The deep, dark slumber was in the process of fading. Beside the residual aches and pains left over from his drunken motorcycle accident, renewed energy ignited in his limbs and his heart. It was sort of like Frankenwill was coming alive! All he needed was a bolt of positive electricity to get the party started. He needed Miki.

  Will took a step in the direction of her tent as she crawled back out with a pink towel over her shoulder and a small toiletries bag in hand.

  Oh, yeah. A shower. He couldn’t talk to her. He was starting to smell like his old man after a long, hot ride. Sun, sweat, and leather…the whiff of death.

  Will frowned not recognizing his tent. Plus, his backpack was gone, which meant…

  No towel.

  No soap.

  No cl
ean clothes.

  And no freakin’ plastic bag to cover his cast.

  Damn, nothing was easy.

  A heavy arm swung around his neck and spun him back toward the fire. “I love you, man,” his dad muttered through a mist of beer breath. “I just wanted you to know that.” He flexed his arm, giving Will’s throat a firm hug.

  “I know…” Will used his fingers to pry himself loose. “…love you, too.”

  “Hey, brothers! Looky here. I’ve got my boy back…both sons standing by my side. My sister and Shorty are here—”

  “We’re always here for you, Billy,” Uncle Shorty said from across the fire. He blew cigarette smoke into the air while he rubbed Aunt K’s shoulder with affection.

  “Well, I got somethin’ to say!”

  “Hell, yeah,” Owen grinned, roasting the sole of his boot on a hot boulder making up part of the fire ring. The flames had died down leaving a furnace of orange in the center of the pit.

  “Dad, I thought we were gonna do this tomorrow.” Liam shoved his hand in the pocket of his camo pants. He pulled out his phone and checked the time. “It’s way late, and you’re tanked.”

  “Why put off today what you can do tomorrow?” His dad’s brows were pinched in the middle, and he patted his pockets like he’d lost a lighter or his cigarettes, but the man didn’t smoke.

  “Riiight,” Liam rubbed his short hair and rolled his eyes at Will, who shook his head in return. Dad wasn’t a drunk, but on the rare occasion when he did over-imbibe, he was a misquoting, love-you-man machine, and one annoying neck-hugger.

  Dad rolled the first rubber band under his chin. It took five of ‘em down the length of his beard to keep it clamped together in a rope. “See how long this is?” It hung, intertwined salt and pepper, down to his Hides of Hell belt buckle. “Your mom was twenty-two years old when she cornered me on the dance floor. Said she loved my beard—”

  “Buckle up. Here we go.” Flossy nodded his approval from the other side of Liam.

  “Is this the memorial?” Will faced his dad with a frown. “Because everyone’s drunk. Miki’s not even here, and Trip is passed out on the picnic table.” They basically forced him to be a part of this, and now it was turning into some kind of tacked-on, spur-of-the-moment, side show. This was important! “Dad, I don’t want to do this now. I’ve been through hell and back, and I’m tired. What’s wrong with tomorrow, huh?”

  “Gone today and here tomorrow.” Dad hooked his arm around Will’s neck again and dragged him down, cheek meet leather. “I love you, man.”

  “I know, Dad…” Will said with squished lips before twisting out of his old man’s grip. “Listen, I’m gonna take a shower and hit the sack.” Maybe Miki’d let him borrow her girly soap to scrub off the past twenty-four hours of hard living. “See you in the morning, okay?”

  “Hang on, Will, my son. What’s the rush? How about waste makes haste.” Dad and the guys laughed with unwarranted hilarity. There were a lot of bloodshot eyes in attendance from all kinds of smoke, squinting against the wind and the sun, and tipping back two too many. “Anyone got a knife? I can’t find mine…” Dad patted his back pockets again.

  Liam held out a black-handled switchblade like it was a ball point pen.

  “Thank you. I love you, man.” Dad flicked the blade out and took a moment to admire the sharpness with his thumb. Then, he clutched the long hair at his chin, tucked the knife under it, and without a moment’s hesitation, slashed out. His beard fell limp in his fist like a beheaded snake.

  “Uh…” Will’s mouth fell open. “What did you…?” Did he actually witness what he thought he did? He glanced at all the faces. Everyone was stunned. His dad—Bill—had finally lost it.

  Caboose coughed. Owen rubbed his stubble while staring at the hairy rope with part fascination and part horror. Flossy splayed his fingers and took a sudden interest in his chunky turquoise ring. The party had turned unnaturally quiet.

  “Dad?” Liam frowned at the dangling whip of hair.

  Leo unwrapped his arm from around Val’s waist to shake his fist in the air. He whooped—“Right on, brother!”—and the tension waned. Sighs of relief were followed by chuffs of nervous laughter. Then, there was the scraping ice and clinking of bottles as chilled beers started circulating.

  “I grew my beard out for my wife, Cindy, because she loved it,” Dad said soberly to the crowd. He shook the banded hair. “You guys know…this thing was a nuisance! It collected breadcrumbs, dust, motor oil. One time when I was riding my bike through Spokane, a grasshopper got caught up in it.” Dad nodded to Leo.

  “I remember you screamin’. You almost took out the guardrail,” Leo said and grinned.

  “I hate grasshoppers. Anyway, my point is this thing took a lot of extra care. But I was happy to do it since it put a smile on my wife’s face. For me, it symbolized how we met—in a podunk diner outside of Shaniko. It was our start in this life together, the strength of our bond, and our two boys. I love you both so much.”

  “We know, Dad,” Liam said.

  “Yeah,” Will whispered around a thick lump forming in his throat. He dropped his chin and stared down at the hem of his Ghetto Gramps while blinking hard to keep the tears at bay.

  “Some of you might think I’m crazy, and some of you might understand…like you, Flossy. You lost your sister to cancer…and you, Caboose. Did you guys know he had an identical twin?” Some nodded, some looked around. “Well, he did. Now, I may not go to church or pray, but I am a spiritual man, and Cindy spoke to me.”

  What? Will looked up and studied his Dad’s brown eyes, the crow’s feet forming in the corners, and the bristly whiskers still making up the stubby beard on his face. Dad heard Mom’s voice, too?

  “She’s the wind…” Dad swung his detached beard around his head like a lasso.

  “The wind beneath your wings?” One of the biker’s joked, and Dad’s eyes crinkled as he laughed.

  “The wind in the trees. All I’m saying is she wants my beard with her, and the only way I know how to send it, is through fire and smoke.” He flung the snake into the hot coals. It hissed, coiled, and flared up brightly. “I love you, my Cindy!” He boomed at the night’s sky.

  As if on cue, AC/DC’s “Back in Black” blared through the speakers, and a large red ice chest was dragged forward. Cindy’s name was batted around along with stories and laughs, beers, and joints. Everyone geared up for a second wind to push ‘em through to dawn. When Mook passed around his flip-topped home-brews in the big brown bottles, Will took it as a personal sign to check out.

  He put his foot on the rock ring to see how his dad’s beard was doing, but there was nothing left in the pit except a flickering orange glow. Too bad the apple pie was gone; he could have thrown it in the fire, too. Then again, maybe Mom didn’t want to take the old, moldy slice into the afterworld.

  “I miss you,” Will murmured to the smoldering coals. “Big time.” Then, he turned away. Forget the shower for now. He wanted to keep the smoke on his skin a little while longer.

  CHAPTER 22: Go Time

  The next morning, thanks to Liam and the stash of hotel samples he kept in his pack, Will’s mouth tasted minty, his hair was squeaky clean, and his skin smelled like a new pine air-freshener from his dad’s old car. He rolled the rubber band and the plastic produce bag down his cast and dropped it in the garbage barrel holding the bathroom door ajar. He draped the thin, travel towel over his hair and scrubbed it dry with his good hand while sauntering across the road to the campsite.

  It was time to talk to Miki.

  Will stopped in front of the small green tent she’d slipped into late last night. Now, it was a sunny morning, he was freshly scrubbed, and decked out in his brother’s clean basketball shorts and t-shirt. Throw in being well-rested, and he was ready to face the music.

  Whenever it came to Miki, Will glanced over his shoulder, a habit from years of being on “Owen alert.” A few of the guys huddled on top of the picnic table, smoki
ng their morning cigarettes with puffy eyes and gravely voices as they busily reviewed the awesomeness of the night before. Will had no idea what transpired. He’d gone to bed and slept like the dead. Most importantly, there was no sign of Leo or Val, no Aunt K, and no Owen—as if big bro could stop him this time. Will wouldn’t give him the power, not anymore.

  The coast was clear. This was his business and no one else’s. Except now, his arm itched under the cast. He tapped on it, while staring at the tent’s zipper pull. What was Miki’s plan? Was she riding with the Hides of Hell to the Burnout Rally? Or was she heading north toward home?

  After one more look back at the guys, he bent and slowly opened the zipper. He peeked inside at the spidery shadows of branches and leaves on the tent wall before crawling into Miki’s lair. It was stuffy and hotter than a sauna, and in another five minutes, he’d lose his freshly showered feeling.

  The tent was supposed to be a two-man, but she was sprawled diagonal, flat on her back inside a flannel-lined sleeping bag. Her arms were above her head like she was in a free-fall and loving every minute of it. Will paused. Should he give her a heart attack by jumping in the middle of her? Or should he sit in the corner with a wet towel around his neck and wait things out? What would Helmet do?

  Right. Go for the heart attack.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she murmured, looking from under her eyelashes.

  “Hey…I, uh…I thought you were asleep.”

  “I was dozing, but FYI, you’re not very sneaky. Zip-zip, rustle-rustle. Then, there’s the heavy breathing. What are you doing in my tent, anyway?” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She must have gone to bed with her hair wet because a raging blue and black octopus came to mind. Scary.

  Will lifted his brows and stared.

  “What?” She touched her hair. “Oh, no!” She raked her fingers through it or tried to. It was tangle central after an apparent night of tossing and turning.