by Lauren Helms
"I'm okay with it, as long as I can find people to take notes for me, which shouldn't be a problem."
"All right, well, I'm gonna get out of here. I need to take my car in for an oil change and get packed. Meet me in front of your building at eight tomorrow morning." Ryker smiles and pushes off the window sill. He nods to Cameron as he passes and walks right out of the tower room.
I let out a huge sigh, my hair lifting gently from my face. I look at Cameron, and he's wearing one of his up-to-no-good grins. "What?"
"Nothing, Blondie." He emphasizes the name, laughs, and jumps off the table. "Come on, let's get out of here and get you packed."
His use of Ryker's nickname doesn't have the same effect on me. Which he senses because he chuckles as he grabs my bag.
"I just want to make sure: you know, you just agreed to go on a five-day road trip with a dude you've known for a little more than two months, right?" He closes the tower door behind me.
I narrow my eyes at him as we descend the three flights of stairs.
"What? I'm just making sure you know what you are doing." He shrugs.
"I'm pretty sure you're the one who brought up the road trip idea in the first place. You know darn well I don't have a car." I push his shoulder with my finger.
He gapes. "Are you insinuating I set this whole thing up?"
"No, I'm suggesting you wanted him to offer to take me. Don't play the concerned best friend right now, Cameron."
His lips twist, before he speaks, "I could tell it wouldn't take much. He clearly digs you and would have offered to go with you anyway. I just helped it along."
I shake my head. I can't be annoyed though. There are more prominent emotions swirling around inside me: shock, excitement, nervousness, and something else I'm not entirely familiar with.
How am I going to spend the next five days, alone, with Ryker Stone?
10
Ryker
We've been on the road for almost two hours now, and Zella is a fucking mess. She was relatively quiet for the first hour, but in the last thirty minutes or so, she's been all over the board. I figured she'd have some excitement mixed with nervousness, but I wasn't expecting this.
Right now, she's feeling really fucking guilty about meeting her birth parents.
"I shouldn't be doing this. Oh, my God. What have I done?" She's barefoot, her legs are pressed against her chest, and her face buried between her knees. "Mother will be so disappointed in me."
In a few minutes, she'll tell me meeting her birth parents is the right thing and that her mother did the wrong thing by lying to her. Then she'll revert back to this blubbering mess. We have approximately eight more hours of driving time today; I need to move this mental break down along.
"Blondie." My voice is firm. She needs some tough-love right now.
She turns her head my way, keeping it rested on her knees.
"You need to snap out of this," I tell her, keeping my eyes on the road. "Did your mother lie to you about being adopted?"
"Yes," she squeaks.
"Did she make you spend the past twenty years under lock and key? Keeping you from being able to experience normal, growing up experiences?"
She whines another affirmative.
"Then what's the worst that can happen? She finds out you found and met your real parents, disowns you, and never speaks to you again?"
"Why would you say that?"
I steal a quick glance at her. Her head has lifted in alarm, but I don't pause.
"Because that's the worst thing that could happen, and you're currently not speaking with her. You're about to meet your birth mother and father, who already adore you and they don't even know you yet." Another glance reveals she's chewing on her bottom lip, processing my words. "My point is, your worst-case scenario probably isn't going to happen, and if it does, you'll deal because your Zella Fucking Raps. You've got Cam, Wells, Fred, Anna, and me. Who else do you really need?"
She doesn't say anything. She stares at me but isn't really looking at me. I let my words float around the car. Some classic rock song plays low on the radio.
A few minutes tick by before she speaks. "You know what? I think you're right. I made the decision to find my parents, so I could meet them, and that's what I'm doing. I'm not going to feel bad about this for one more minute." She picks up my phone in the middle console and scrolls through my playlist. She settles on some upbeat Weezer remake.
She turns to me and places her hand on my lower arm. "Thank you, Ryker."
I smile at her. "Anytime."
Hours tick by. I was worried the drive would feel long, but we alternate between listening to music—she sings, I don't—and talking. The drive doesn't feel as monotonous. The conversation between us is easy, and when we don't talk, it's comfortable silence, until she breaks out in song. The girl loves music. She knew a lot of the rock and alternative songs on my favorite playlists, but her heart lies in pop music. It didn't take me long to cave and let her take over as music master. I'll never admit this to anyone else, but I can't help getting caught up in the catchy tunes that she has a love for.
"So, what's one thing you wanted as a kid but never got?" she asks, her bare feet propped up on the dash, her flip flops somewhere on the floor below. We've been getting pretty personal with the questions as of late, but I don't mind at all. I'm quickly realizing Zella can get away with just about anything, and I wouldn't bat an eye.
But I eye her and the question. She does know I grew up with my uncle, who didn't care much for my presence. She nods and lifts her hands in surrender.
"I know, I know, but I mean, every kid wanted something they couldn't have. I really wanted a membership to the local community center, you wanted?"
"I wanted a dog." It's the one thing I have ever asked my uncle for. He didn't have time for a kid, let alone a dog. So, I never got one.
Her eyes go soft and dreamy. "Oh, a dog. That's fantastic."
I chuckle and add, "Yeah, the last foster home I was in had a dog—it was the best thing—but it came down to being out of the system or having a dog. I guess getting out of the system is the better choice."
Zella thinks hard, with her lip pulled between her teeth.
She cocks her head, still looking out at the road. "I'm glad you were able to get out of the system, but I wish you would have gotten that dog you wanted." She looks over at me now. "But you seem to have turned out all right on your own, so it's probably for the best."
I chuckle when I see the silly face she makes at me.
"Alright, my turn."
"Hit me," she says, readjusting in her seat.
"We need to talk about the hair."
She groans.
"What?! You have to admit, it's topic worthy." I reach out and snag a piece that has fallen from the braid. She glares at me and shakes her head lightly enough that the hair falls from my grasp.
"Okay, fine. But the hair question is my answer to the question you just answered. Everyone wants to know about the hair."
"There's a lot of it." I laugh.
"Yeah. I know." She looks out her side window as she explains. “My mother loved my hair long. I hated it at first, but by the time I was ten, I was braiding it and having fun with it, and it made Mother happy, which was important to me." She draws her knees back to her chest.
"You're an adult now, and you're not really doing things to make your mother happy anymore, so why not cut it?" I question.
"Eventually, I will. Since I've been at CamU, I'm kind of over being the girl with the hair."
"Zella with the good hair, though," I add for good measure.
My chest warms as she giggles.
"I'm going to cut it. Really. I want to cut it so badly. It's on my bucket list."
"What else is on this bucket list?"
"Well, in addition to cutting my hair, I'd love to dye it some super fun color. As you know, I'd like to fly on a plane, but also get a tattoo, sing karaoke, and tons of other random stuff." Her face f
lushes a bit, and she bites that plump lip again.
Interesting. "I could help you mark off some of those items," I hedge.
She blushes more. I'm willing to bet she's got some items on that list I'd enjoy way too much. I really want to know what they are, that's for sure.
She clears her throat. "Have you thought about putting on your white hat and using you hacking for good?" She whips out the question so fast, it nearly gives me whiplash.
"Huh." I swallow hard.
"I mean, I know you had to do a bunch of not so legal stuff to find my birth parents, but you were doing good. What if you did more good? What if you helped people more? Did less of the changing grades, signing people up for inappropriate websites and dating apps?"
Shit, she doesn't even know the half of it.
"Someone's been brushing up on hacker lingo." I smirk.
She makes a face just shy of sticking out her tongue. "Well?"
"I'm just not sure it's my thing. I kind of like playing by my own rules, Blondie. How much fun would it really be doing good all the time?"
She shakes her head. "I don't know, Ryker. I think you'd make one helluva white hat."
She leans forward in her seat and turns up the music a little, giving us a reprieve from the questions. Truth is, I'm not ready to think about how good it felt to do some good. Maybe it's more rewarding helping people who deserve it rather than people who want to hurt others. I don't know, but it's something to think about.
Zella is lost in the music, and I'm lost in my thoughts about how I'm going to use my hacking skills once I graduate. I glance at the dash to check my gas levels when I notice my temperature gauge is getting pretty hot. I shut down the AC and crack the windows.
Well, damn. That's not good. I'm not sure we are anywhere close to a town, so I hope it doesn't get any hotter. We have about two hours left on the trip before we can stop for the night. I just hope we can make it. We haven't gotten dinner yet, but Zella bought up all the snacks when we stopped for gas just before lunch. We've made good time, only needing to stop for gas once and a few quick restroom breaks.
Another twenty minutes pass, and the needle on the gauge is only climbing. I know I can't drive any further, as the needle is now in the red zone.
"Shit," I mutter.
This alarms Zella, and she snaps her head toward me, grabbing the oh-shit handle above her door when I slam on my breaks and pull off to the side of the road. "What's happening?"
I ignore her panic as I maneuver the Jeep to a stop. Smoke billows up from the hood as I shut the car off.
"Shit," I grumble under my breath.
"Ryker, what just happened?"
"We overheated. That's what just happened. Stay here." I unbuckle and check my side mirror to see if anyone is coming down the two-lane highway. We've been pretty much the only car on the road today, so I'm not surprised when I see open road in both directions.
Jumping out of the Jeep, I walk to the front and pop the hood.
Immediately, I'm assaulted with smoke. I leap back, waving it away and out of my face.
I hear the slam of a car door and wonder if we've been rescued when Zella comes to stand next to me. Figures she wouldn't listen and stay in the car like I asked.
"I'd feel better if you'd stay in the car, Zella." I glare down at her. She's wearing tight gray capris that look painted on, a purple T-shirt that says, "best day ever" on it, and matching purple flip flops, which I'm glad to see her wearing. Who knows what we might find out here.
"I wanted to see what's going on. Plus, what's the big deal?" She lifts her arms from her side and makes a show of looking around at our surroundings. "There's nothing to worry about."
"It's nearly dark, we are in no-man's-land, and I would feel better if you got back into the car." I look back at the engine; most of the smoke has cleared.
She giggles beside me. "What? You think the boogie man might get us? Or I don't know... maybe a lizard? I heard lizards out in these parts can be ravenous."
I get it. She's making fun of me. Still, I don't want her getting hurt. I move closer to the Jeep and ask, "Why don't you go look up the nearest town. Maybe search for a mechanic or something in case I can't fix this."
She giggles again. "Roger that."
Good.
She's heading back to the car now, but before she opens the door, she adds, "For the record, I'm only getting back in the car because I'm hungry, and there are snacks in here. I wouldn't want to draw the attention of the ravenous lizards with the tasty smells of my yummy snacks."
I bite back my grin as she climbs back in the car and shuts the door.
11
Ryker
After a few minutes of staring down at the engine, it's no use. The thing is hot, and I can't fix the issue right now, even if I wanted to. I crouch down to look under the car. There's a drip. Fuck. I bet I've got a coolant leak. I need a professional.
I leave the hood propped open, walk back, and get into the car. "I can't fix it," I growl as I sit down.
"Well, unfortunately, we have crappy signal out here. We have very slow Internet, but no bars. I can't call anyone. There is a restaurant about three miles up this road. Then past that, a town that has a mechanic. We can walk to the restaurant and call from there." She reaches behind her seat and grabs her small purse and shoves her phone inside. I grab my own from the middle dash, and we get out of the car.
"Stay close, Ryker. I want to make sure you're safe from the lizards and boogie men." She chuckles because she's just so funny.
"Watch it, Blondie," I bark, but my bite is half-hearted. I can't fight my smile when she's acting like she's my bodyguard. I nudge her away from me but not far, as our arms are touching. "If anyone is going to protect someone, it's going to be me."
She shakes her head and mutters something about men under her breath.
The walk isn't bad, but it takes us a little more than an hour. When the restaurant comes into view, I notice that this isn't just any restaurant. No, Blondie here leads us to a biker bar. Unease settles deep in my gut.
"Uh, Blondie, this is not a restaurant." I move closer to her. Who knows who's out here?
"That's what it was listed under online. Cuddle Ducks. It's such a cute name." She's such a girl, getting sidetracked by cute things.
"This place is a biker bar. They don't take kindly to outsiders. They are not people you want to mess with." I issue my warning as we get closer.
"I've heard of bikers, but I've never seen them in the wild."
She's mocking me; I can hear the laughter in her voice. I grumble.
She continues her mockery, "Are they thugs and ruffians, Ryker? How are we to deal with thugs and ruffians?" She leans into me and grabs hold of my arm. Instinct has me starting to shake her off, but the unease in my gut turns into something else entirely, and I have the urge to pull her in closer to me, to wrap my arm around her waist, and show her what happens when she gives me a hard time. It turns me on, that's what fucking happens.
She giggles and doesn't let me go.
I stop as we come up to the bar. It's ranch-style with reddish-orange paneling. There are dozens of bikes parked out front, and rock music can be heard from outside and from across the street where we stand. There are stairs to the side that wrap up to the side of the building and leads to, what looks like, a rooftop deck.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle with the feel of being watched. I pull out my phone, and damn it, still no signal.
"Zella, listen to me." Using her real name causes her to look up at me with seriousness. "You aren't twenty-one, and neither of us belongs to this particular club. We won't be welcome, but we need a mechanic and a way into town. Don't draw attention to yourself. I'm going to sit you down at a table near the door, and I'm going to find a phone. Sound like a plan?"
"Don't draw attention to myself. Get in and out quick. Got it." She nods with determination.
"All right." I blow out a breath. "Let's do this."
&n
bsp; We cross the street, with me gripping her hand, and walk up to the bar. I pull open the door, and loud music pours out of the building. Walking inside, we take in the room. The smell of cigarettes fills my nostrils, and I grip Zella's hand again. The floor is sheet vinyl, like the kind you might find in a workshop. Aluminum covers the bar tops, and dozens of neon signs line the walls. The tables are high with bright orange tops and black leather-backed stools. Several pool tables line the back as well as a jukebox.
My eyes land on the jukebox at the same time I hear Zella make a tiny, delighted sigh. I pull her close and whisper down into her ear, "Whatever you do, don't touch that jukebox, Blondie. Bikers are known to not take kindly to outsiders messing with their music." She nods, and I find an empty booth near the door. As planned, she slides in. I make eye contact with her. "Don't move, and don't piss anyone off."
She smiles up at me. "Aye' aye, Capitan."
I turn on my heel and walk up to the bar, where a big, hairy bartender glares daggers at me.
I smile and turn on my charm. "Good evening, sir. My lady and I had some car troubles down the road a bit, and I need to find a mechanic." I give him my best, I'm-not-here-looking-for-any-trouble smile, and it does nothing for me. If the look he's shooting my way could kill, I'd be six feet under.
I clear my throat and try again. "Our car broke down, and we need—"
He interrupts me, "I heard you pretty boy, but you'll find no help here." He grunts as he dries off a glass. I eye a sign on the wall near the bar that says there is free Internet and to ask for the password. Alright, maybe I can at least get the password out of him.
I point to the sign just past his head, “Could I get the WiFi password? Then we can be on our way.”
“No,” he grunts.
I try again. "Look, I don’t have cell service here, and without Internet, I can’t look up a name. So if you could help me out, that would be awesome. Do you have a payphone somewhere?" I dart my eyes around the bar, hoping to spot one. They still put payphones in bars, right?
