CHAPTER NINE #2
“Hi,” Cork says as I get closer, and just as I’m about to say, ‘Hi yourself, handsome,’ he looks past me and continues, “Star, looking good as always. You got time to show Dallas them vehicles of yours?”
Goddamn the man. If this carries on, I’m gonna hit him with something a darn sight heavier than a bottle of Barons Bordeaux! See if he likes the concussion I could give him right now!
“Sure thing. You know I love to show off. Let’s go take a look.” Hooking her arm through mine, we set off up the compound to where there are several beautiful cabins. Cabin doesn’t do justice to them, though. They are huge and more like log mansions.
As we set off, I hear a grunt from behind, then Cork speaking. “Hi to you, too, Meat. Everything good?”
Grunt!
So, Star’s man is called Meat, huh? I’d heard the name but didn’t know him to put a face to until now.
He’s a man of few words, by the sound of the conversation sort of going on behind me.
Star gives my arm a squeeze and ups the pace slightly.
As we approach a cabin with a beautiful wraparound porch, she turns to where the men have dropped back a little.
“Can you two go into the house and make hot chocolate while I show off my car and bike?”
Leading me down the side of the house, I see a Dutch barn style structure. It’s not tall like a barn, but it certainly has some square footage by the look of it. Stepping to a side door, Star pushes it open and flicks on a light.
The place lights up, and I turn my face away and squint, it’s so bright.
Feeling her walk away, I look up and see her vehicles bathed in bright light.
The Dodge Charger looks amazing, it sits there low and squat like something ready to pounce.
The red paintwork gleams and reflects the lights from the roof almost mirrorlike.
I know this has had some modifications to make it look so aggressive, but they are all subtle and in keeping with the stock version this once was.
The rear tires are huge, yet there is only a small increase in the rear wheel arch. “I see where you’re looking. Shortened back axle and deep-dish alloys. Stole that idea from a Shelby Cobra. Awesome, isn’t she?”
Walking around the back, I notice there are no exhausts. I wait for her to tell me, but she just grins. “You’ll see.”
The trunk lid has been tweaked to give a slightly larger rear wing, but again, it’s no Plymouth Superbird. It’s all subtle, subtle, subtle. Taking in the rear arches again, I’m still wondering about the exhaust system. It has to come out somewhere.
The roof looks as though it has been lowered, but I can’t say for sure. If it has, it’s not been by much. Reaching the front wing, I notice vents have been cut in the side and chrome exhaust pipes protrude. So that’s how it’s been done.
“Mercedes McLaren SLR. I could go on all day. She was stunning when I got her, but I keep tweaking her, and every gentle touch just improves her until I think I can do no more.”
As I reach the front, I see the hood in all its glory! “Oh, Star! That is just…there are no words!” The hood has a picture of a motocross rider cresting a hill, and the face of the rider is Star.
“Believe it or not, it came like that. I saw the car advertised, and when I got there to view it, the owner was a fan from my riding days and had had that done to the hood for himself. I was blown away.” Star looks at the picture and smiles.
“I bet you didn’t haggle over the price.” I almost want to reach out and touch it. There is such a depth to it, it’s like a holographic image.
“We negotiated, we didn’t haggle. Anyway, come and see my Hog.
Another good deal I dropped onto.” Taking my arm once again, she leads me to her ‘Hog’.
A beautiful bike, I must say, and in red again.
The tank is painted as a woman’s corset, with buttonholes and ribbons threaded through them.
Someone went to a lot of effort to get it so lovely.
“Hot Hogs and Cages did the paint job. Isn’t it the dog's bollocks?”
Laughing at her terminology, I say, “The what? Where do you get these sayings from?”
“My mother is British as you guys would say, or English, as she would insist. I like my Englishness and refuse to let it slip away to become just another colonial or redneck. Besides, it’s great fun introducing the club to new words and phrases. Keep an ear out for ‘arsehole’ and ‘bloody.’”
Hearing the roar of a bike outside, I give Star a quizzical look.
“Come on, I’ll take you next door to see Mia’s pretty trike. It’s all girly and lovely. Not quite my style, but each to their own. It is a lovely piece of kit, though.” Star leads us out, flips the lights off and locks the door. Guiding me next door, we see Mia waiting for us.
A lovely piece of kit? I like that one. I may just slip that into a conversation somewhere.
Looking over Mia’s trike, I’m not sure where Star gets all girly from as it’s black.
I can see the appeal of three wheels. I’ve had a bit of two-wheeled experience on the ranch.
I’d never swap it for four legs though. That ain’t never gonna happen.
Chatting over the trike for a while, Star says it’s time we had our hot chocolate, so we set off back to her place.
“You know what, Star? No offense but I think I’ll just go back to the clubhouse. I don’t feel overly sociable.”
Giving me some sort of squinty-eyed look, she stops, faces me and puts her hands on my shoulders.
“Just because Cork can’t see what’s in front of his face, doesn’t mean shit.
You’re a beautiful, desirable, intelligent woman.
He’ll come around, but he’s got no experience with women.
Hell, he’s hardly got any experience of life.
He’s a great kid, and that’s what you have to remember.
Most men are kids. About fifty percent evolve into great men, twenty-five percent become arseholes, and the other twenty-five reach puberty, and then we have to decide if they’re worth living with or not.
I think you’re the woman to help Cork evolve into a great man. ”
“Is that what you did? Help evolve Meat?”
“Hell no, sweetie. If Meat ever evolves, I’ll dump his sorry arse so fast he won’t know what the fuck hit him. I want him to stay as caveman as he is now, 'til the day I wear him out and bury him!”