Six
SIX
We move up a long driveway lined with palm trees and oleander bushes, in full bloom and bright pink. The sun is starting to set, lighting up the sky with pinks and oranges and light purples. As we draw closer, a large modern style home greets us.
It has straight lines and is made of a light colored stucco and some type of stone in the same neutral colors. Large windows line the outside and landscape lighting turns on, illuminating the lush foliage.
On the left side of the house sits a four car garage with doors that look more like frosted window panes than any garage door I’ve seen. And the driveway isn’t a regular slab of concrete or gravel. Bright green grass peeks between slabs in a neat and precise pattern, making it look more like a gameboard than a driveway.
“Holy shit, Kinsley. Your home is gorgeous,” I exclaim, my eyes still taking in all of the details.
“Oh honey, this isn’t my place. This is Henny’s house.” I’m sure the shock on my face says more than my words could. “See, I shouldn’t really say this, but since we’re best friends now, I can tell you. Henny and his brothers –adopted, not birth– developed this protective gear for bike riders that can send a signal to EMS if an accident occurs. It monitors heart rate and breathing. Those boys are damn smart and spent years creating it. Each one lending a skill to come up with a million dollar product. Well, it was more like a twenty million dollar project.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I tell her.
“I will not. It’s the God honest truth. They sold forty-nine percent of their company to a speed bike company and control the majority. They invested in a bunch of different stuff here in Cattywump Bay. They all co-own the garage and the bar, and also invested in a few restaurants. But they mostly stay silent on those. They also donated money to a charity that helps troubled youth in foster care. Not a lot of people know about it because they like to keep up the facade that they’re asshole deviants.” My jaw drops and I stare at her as the truck comes to a stop, and she shifts it into park. “Oh yeah. Don’t let that surly attitude fool you. Hendrix and Malik and Danté grew up in foster care and created their own family. Now those boys have more money than they know what to do with.”
My face grows hot and my teeth clench. “And that asshole had the nerve to call me a spoiled daddy’s girl? Meanwhile he’s sitting on a throne of gold amongst his millions of dollars. Does he have a room with rubies and diamonds?”
I push the door open and jump down from the truck. Reaching behind the seat I grab some of my bags from today’s shopping trip, and Kinsley grabs the others.
“No, no. Nothing like that. His secret room holds gold bars.” I freeze and look at her from the other side of the truck, the door still gripped in my hand. “I’m kidding. He splurges on his bikes, and that’s about it. All three of them do. That big ole bike sittin’ behind Miss Shirley at the shop? That’s Henny’s pride and joy. I’m sure it’s covered by a velvet cloth in that garage.”
She slams her truck door closed and I do the same and follow her towards the garage. It’s then that I notice a small breezeway between the house and the garage that was hidden behind large oleander bushes with bright pink buds.
A loud turr of an engine pulls my attention away from following Kinsley, and I turn around to see a bright blue and green bike speeding up the driveway. I assume it’s Hendrix on the bike as it’s the exact bike that is on the wall in his shop and the one Kinsley mentioned as being his pride and joy.
I watch him draw nearer, the setting sun shining off of his black helmet and his body clad in a black jacket with bright green piping and the letters DBI on the chest, outlined in the same green. The jeans he wore earlier, the ones I noticed fit his ass so beautifully, are still on as well as his black boots. I watch his hands work to downshift as he slows down, quieting the engine.
He comes to a full stop in front of his garage doors and flips the kickstand before turning his bike off. Instead of getting off he simply sits there, pulling his gloves off one finger at a time. He places them on the bike when they’re off and then leans forward, helmet and jacket still in place.
I swallow and look back at Kinsley who catches my eye and simply shrugs. It seems as if he’s trying to intimidate me in some way, so I turn to face him completely and cross my arms over my chest. Well, I try to cross my arms but I have bags hanging from my wrists so I don’t do it very successfully.
Neither of us budge as we stand in this silent stare-off, waiting for the other to break. And why are we even doing this? Shouldn’t he be welcoming me to his home? Inviting me in for a tour? But instead, he just sits there with a chip on his shoulder and an arrogant look on his face. I assume it’s arrogant because that’s the way he looked when his helmet was off, so I can only guess it’s the same with his helmet on.
I exhale and decide to be the bigger person and greet him.
“Hello Hendrix. Thank you for letting me stay here with you while you fix my vehicle. I promise to stay out of your way, as I plan to work on school stuff and simply wait until you are finished.” I let my hands drop to my side with the bag still hanging from my wrists and hands.
His head moves up and down the length of my body, from my sneaker covered feet to my ponytail that sways on my head. He slowly pulls the helmet from his head and as much as I want to punch his stupid face –because yes, the look is that of arrogance– I also want to kiss the damn thing.
His eyes are piercing blue and his lips are full and pink. Sweat beads along his hairline, and he pushes back the short, blonde strands. His eyes narrow and focus in on my bags then on my face.
“Are you moving in? Seems like a lot of bags for just a week or two?”
My peace offering gratitude is wiped clean out with his, once again, sour attitude.
“I’m here for two weeks. I can’t very well wear the same clothes the entire time. Plus, unless you plan to provide me with everything I need for my day to day life, I thought it would be a good idea to buy toothpaste and soap to clean myself. I don’t know about you, but I like to bathe often.” I arch a challenging brow at him, waiting to see what kind of comment I’ll be met with next.
He kicks his leg over his bike, his boot clad foot stomping on the concrete and smashing the poor grass, and languidly walks over to me. I’m an average size girl standing at five six, but Hendrix towers over me. He’s almost as tall as Uncle Bishop and much more menacing as he looks down at me. But I’ll be damned if he sees me cower. I look back at him with the same intense stare and clenched jaw.
His nostrils flare and I hear rather than see the gnashing of his teeth. I wish to God I knew what I ever did, aside from breathing, to make this guy hate me so much.
“D’you eat?” Is all he says.
I screw up my face, completely confused by this man, and nod my head.
“Yessir. I took her to the Rusty Bucket for crawfish and all the fixin’s,” Kinsley says from close behind me.
She throws her arm over my shoulders and tugs me close. She’s a little thing, but her fierce attitude is six feet tall.
“I’ll show you around,” he mumbles and pushes past me.
Stepping up to the garage, he flips open a keypad on the side and presses his thumb to it. A beep sounds followed by the soft whir of the garage door opening. I watch as it rolls up to reveal a glossy floor that looks like it should be in a showroom and not a home. A set of wheels comes into view followed by a car that knocks my socks off.
Now I don’t consider myself some kind of car expert, but having a mother and a father who have a love for classic muscle cars means I know a lot about vehicles of a certain era.
The green metallic shines under the fluorescent lights and the black tires are slick, like not even a speck of dirt has touched them. The rims are polished chrome and my fingers itch to feel the smooth, cold surface.
My feet have a mind of their own and begin moving before I can think better of it. My eyes are glowing with envy for this beautiful green machine and if Mom were here right now, she’d be jumping through the window and speeding off like it was the General Lee.
“ty-nine, seventy?” I ask him, my eyes still glued to the shiny metallic surface.
“ty-eight,” he replies, moving closer to where I stand, my fingers ghosting over the curves. “You know something about cars?”
My head pops up, meeting his face with question. “Can a girl not have an appreciation for cars?”
“I didn’t say that. I just asked if you know about classic cars.” His arms cross over his chest and his brows furrow.
“Oh,” I swallow, feeling a little embarrassed by my reaction. “My parents really love classic cars. My mom has a sixty-seven Camaro SS. It’s gorgeous but this is…wow.”
I peek inside the window and see all the original interior, shined up to look new. I close my eyes and imagine what the leather smells like, a familiar scent I know very well. The garage is silent, or at least I think it is. I’m so lost in the car that all I can hear is my internal thoughts saying I wonder if he’ll let me take it for a drive .
While lost in thought, I manage to not notice where Hendrix stands and I end up slamming into him when I round the back end. His hands catch me and I let my eyes roam from his fingers that grip my forearms, tattooed and strong, to his haunting blue eyes. His features soften and I feel his warm breath lick my skin. As quickly as the moment comes on, it ends. He takes two giant steps back and clears his throat.
“Let me show you the place,” he says quickly, and walks off.
I shake off the goosebumps that roll over my body and turn to follow him. When I do, the face of a snarky Kinsley meets me, a sparkle in her eye and a sassy comment sitting on the tip of her tongue.
The corner of her lip pulls up in a lopsided grin. “Well well well,” she coos. “Someone is grinning like a possum.”
“What are you talking about?” I take a step and feel her right on my heels.
“What I’m talking about is you and Henny having the hots for one another.”
“The hots? Who in the hell says that?” I whisper, making sure Hendrix doesn’t hear us.
“Oh hush. It don’t matter none who says it. All that matters is it’s a fact.” She arches a brow and smirks before growing quiet and skipping up the stairs.
To put it in Kinsley terms, that girl is as nutty as a squirrel’s turd.