13. June #4
Once his visor is shut, I say through our shared headset, “I thought you said you were good with cops?”
“That doesn’t mean I want to deal with them, especially when you’re with me. Imagine having to explain this one to the guys.”
The guy in front of Simon gets out of our way and Simon darts through the gap he creates.
“Hold on, love. It’s going to be rockier than earlier.”
Sinewy and rigid, he is the anchor I grip onto tightly, my arms locked around him.
“You’re safe, I promise.”
“I never questioned that, not with you.”
“Then why are you trying to squeeze me to death?” Simon chuckles.
I loosen my hold on him. “I hate you.”
“Just admit it, you like feeling my body up against yours.”
We hit a bump and then another. The other bikes hot on our tail.
“Hey, Simon?”
“Yeah?” A hint of intrigue lines his tone.
“How would you feel if I let go and fell off the back of your bike? Think they’d run me over? Or maybe I’d snap my neck first? What do you think?”
Simon releases the handlebar with his left hand and pins it around my hands on his chest. “If you even fucking think about letting go.”
“Okay, okay,” I call out. “Focus on getting us the hell out of here.”
“Promise me you won’t let go.” He keeps his palm pressed on mine.
“I promise.”
He exhales and returns his attention to where it belongs—the rocky terrain ahead.
We continue to descend the uneven grassy slope, my ass growing numb from all the bumps we keep hitting until finally, we approach solid land.
Simon drives us straight toward the lights of the city, coming into town from a direction I’ve never been before.
We pop out onto a street and he glances back at the bikes behind us.
The guy from earlier catches up and comes to our side. “Thanks, man, that was a fucking close one!” he yells across to us. “Let me buy you a beer to thank you.” He points ahead. “I know a place up here.”
Simon lifts his visor to talk to the guy. “It’s all good, man. No sweat.”
“Ah, come on,” I tell him. “What else do we have going on?”
“Are you sure, buddy?” He motions again. “It’s just a couple blocks away.”
“It’ll be fun, let’s do it.” I clasp onto Simon’s torso. “How dangerous could it be? Don’t make me squeeze you to death.”
“Lead the way,” he tells the guy and snaps his visor back down. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“More than you already do? Impossible.” I loosen my grip, letting one arm completely free of my hold on Simon, and let the wind rush through my fingers.
It only takes a minute to get to where the guy told us to go, and the second we arrive in the dark parking lot behind the bar, I hop off the back of Simon’s bike and fumble with the stupid straps of the helmet. Finally, I figure it out and pop it off my head before Simon can intercept.
“Look who doesn’t need my help anymore.” He takes the helmet from me and secures it to the bike with a little locking mechanism thingy.
“Maybe eventually I’ll grow up and you won’t have to babysit me anymore either.”
“Never.” He cups my chin between his thumb and index finger. “One drink, then we’re leaving. Stay close to me, okay?”
“Fine,” I sigh while still being relieved that he gave in at all.
“Sup, man? I’m Derek.” The biker guy extends his hand toward Simon.
Simon shakes it and says, “I’m Brad, this is Shelly.”
Brad. Shelly. What the fuck.
I narrow my gaze at Simon but go along with it anyway and offer a nod of acknowledgment. "We'll be right behind you," I tell them.
We let the group of biker people enter the bar while Brad and I hang back at the entrance.
“Do I look like a fucking Shelly to you?”
Simon shrugs. “Do I look like a Brad?”
“No, not even a little bit.” I laugh and shove his shoulder. “Next time I’m picking the names.”
“Hopefully there isn’t a next time, love. You can’t trust strangers like this. If one of them found out who you are, who I am…”
“Then what, Brad? What would happen?”
“You could get hurt!”
“Nobody gives a shit who I am. You just worry too much.”
“And you don’t worry enough. Someone has to do it for you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.” I wrap my arm around Simon’s and tug him toward the entrance. “Come on, Brad.”
The bar is thick with smoke and cheap booze. A billiards game begins when we walk in, and a group of drunk women wiggles around in a circle on the dance floor. This place is quaint, to say the least.
“There he is,” Derek yells from his spot with his arm outstretched toward Simon. “The man of the hour, Brad.”
The little group of bikers cheer and slap Simon on the back.
I can sense his aggravation at the whole situation and eat every second of it up.
If only these men knew who he was, then they probably wouldn't put their hands all over him.
I guess his reputation doesn't stretch to this side of town.
Or maybe the name really was enough of a disguise to conceal his true identity.
“What’ll ya have?” Derek asks him.
"Tequila and a bourbon." He turns toward the bartender who's awaiting his order. "Top shelf." Simon shoves his hand in his pocket and slides a hundred-dollar bill out and puts it on the counter.
“Ah, shit, man, I woulda got that for ya.” Derek frowns and throws his arm over Simon’s shoulder.
Simon shrugs him off. “No worries, man. I appreciate the sentiment, a drink can still be had together, regardless of who pays for it.”
Derek sighs heavily but seems to accept Simon’s answer.
He reaches for his huge mug of beer, a bit of it sloshing over the sides.
“You’re a good dude, Brad.” From the sound of his voice, he’s already been throwing them back long before he stumbled upon us.
Probably why that cop was after him and their group.
The bartender sets our drinks on the counter and takes the bill Simon had laid on top and makes change.
“Keep it,” Simon tells the older woman working behind the bar.
Her eyes widen and she smiles, a few of her teeth missing. “Thanks.”
Simon hands me my glass and takes the other into his hand. “To Brad and Shelly.”
I grin at him and clank my shot glass against his.
“To Brad and Shelly.” I down the contents of the bourbon in one swallow, noting how it’s nothing like what we have at home.
Not too long ago, this would have been out of my price range, and now here I am, a bit of a snob at the lower quality.
Funny what being around wealthy mafia men will do to a gal.
“High roller, are we?” Derek slurps some of his beer and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “What do you do for a living, Brad?”
Simon tenses, his eyes pinching shut before turning around. “Security.”
The same answer that Coen had given me when we ran into each other in that bar all those months ago.
I thought it was strange. My Coen, sweet innocent Co who slow danced with me on top of a pizza shop, did something dangerous for a living.
Little did I know, that job was much more deadly than he let on.
And that version of him no longer existed.
I see it sometimes, a ghost of who he once was, but that part of him is gone, as is the young girl from my past.
“Like mall security?” Derek gulps down more of his beer.
I hold back a chuckle at having said the same thing to Coen.
“Yeah, like mall security,” Simon confirms even though he’s blatantly lying.
“Sick. I didn’t know those gigs paid so well; I’ll have to look into it.
” Derek grabs onto one of his friends and drags him over.
“This is Brody. He works at the mall, too.” Derek aggressively rubs the guy’s head and shoves him away.
He settles his sights on me. “How long you and pretty little Shelly been together?”
Simon stiffens, his body gravitating in front of mine.
I weave my fingers around his and hold on tightly. “A few years.” I place my other hand on Simon’s chest.
Derek bobs his head up and down. “I was in love once…shit, feels like forever ago.”
Simon grips my hand and runs his thumb over mine. He glances down at me. “Has it really been a few years? Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“What happened?” I ask Derek since he’s clearly zoning the hell out while he goes down memory lane.
He blinks back to reality. “Bitch cheated on me. Went through her phone and found some texts she had been sending my buddy. I went home, beat the shit out of her and never saw the slut again.”
My breath catches and Simon and I both hold onto each other tighter.
“She called and threatened to have me arrested but I told her about the tittie pics I still had saved from her.” Derek laughs. “Shut her up real quick.”
“Listen,” Simon announces. “We should get going, it’s getting late.”
Derek picks up his beer. “What, gotta curfew or something?”
“Yeah, or something.” Simon backs us from the crowd, and I let him.
I thought coming here would be fun, not fuel my desire to snap this fucking asshole's neck. First, he admits to abusing his girlfriend, then he blackmails her out of having him arrested with revenge porn.
He doesn't deserve to walk out of here, let alone continue breathing.
But just because I think he's a piece of shit doesn't mean there's anything I can do about it.
And asking Simon to step in when we're in unfamiliar territory, using fake names, at a bar full of strangers, would be even more wrong.
“Sure, yeah. Let me walk ya out.” Derek slams his mug on the counter.