I’ve never ridden one before. What if I fucking lay it over? Shit, I should have bought one off Craigslist or something. This is too flashy. What was I thinking?
Glancing up, the woman across the street must have gone inside at some point because she’s gone.
Good, I can practice without making a fool of myself in front of a beautiful woman. Straddling the bike, I put the key in the ignition and turn it on. It rumbles with such power and strength it radiates into my bones and I rev the throttle. Fuck, that’s sexy. Why didn’t I get me one of these sooner? It can’t be much different than a dirt bike. I rode a friend’s several times when I was a teenager.
Letting off the clutch, I rev, twisting the throttle just a bit. I ride out of the driveway and onto the street. So far, so good. Wanting more speed, I push my foot into the clutch and give it more power, it takes my order with pleasure and before I know it, I’m out of the trailer park and onto the street, the warm air in my hair and power between my legs, I take over the fucking streets like a king. My leather cut on telling nearby traffic to back the fuck off while I make my way through.
1
Maybelline
Months Later
Plugging in the vacuum to suck up the crumbs from dinner, I turn it on only to have the lights grow brighter before turning off altogether. A fuse had blown. That’s what happens when you live in an old trailer. You can’t have two things going at once or a damn breaker will flip off.
“Oh come on!” I yell out and let the vacuum drop to the ground. Hands out, I feel for the wall and make my way down the dark hall until my fingertips touch the metal box. Stopping, I pull up on the door and it pops open, I count the fuses until I get to switch three and flip it to the side. Instantly the lights come back on, along with the vacuum. Slamming the fuse box shut, I run to the vacuum to turn it off before it blows the fuse again.
Snatching the remote off the coffee table, I turn off reruns of Friends and turn the vacuum back on. Sweeping under the table and around the couch, I think about having my own shop. The thought has always been there since I was a kid. Just my sister and I alone in our rooms, promising one another it would happen one day.
She’s graduating high school this year and I’m a maid at the hotel in town making fourteen dollars an hour.
Done cleaning up the living room I begin to wrap the cord around the vacuum when the familiar thunder of a motorcycle has me stand up straight, I look toward the window in the kitchen, its blinds just open enough for me to spy on the hot biker across the street to see if it’s just him but it’s not. Instead there are four motorcycles in my driveway.
My heart starts to beat faster, and fear blooms in my chest like a smoldering fire. The Kings of Carnage MC aren’t good news and I have four of them here. My mother and father used to be close to them, which makes them think my sister and I are close to them. We’re not. They were just drug dealers that ended up dealing my parents their grave, leaving my sister and me in foster care. At least until I became of age and became Dime’s legal guardian. As if the reaper arrived on my doorstep, a cold gust of air sweeps from underneath my door and a loud knock following.
“Open up, Maybelline,” Chaos demands, three loud knocks on my flimsy door. He knows I’m in here, so there’s no use in trying to act invisible.
Running my hand up the back of my hair, I tug out my hair tie and nervously redo my bun while walking over to the door. I smooth down the green scrubs that are my work uniform, take a deep breath and open the door.
His side facing me, he slowly turns his head, his mouth turning into a full grin and that’s when I realize it’s not Chaos, it’s Ruin, his son. We’ve crossed paths a lot growing up, those piercing blue eyes making me weak in the knees several times, but he never made a pass at me. Probably because I’m not his type. I’ve seen the girls that hang around him. Lots of makeup, not afraid to show skin, and loud-mouthed. I’m quiet, don’t know how to wear makeup, and am basically invisible. So which brings the question, why is he here?
My eyes fall to a man standing behind him, dark hair and eyes, the name Saint on his cut.