“Better get back inside,” he said softly. He gestured with his chin to the passed out meathead. “He’s got friends in the bar. Let them know you found him and they’ll take him home. I’m pretty sure they aren’t gonna call the cops.”
With that pronouncement, Colt turned. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the logo on the back of his leather vest, a skull flanked by open angel wings.
He strode from the alley, becoming one with the darkness.
I crossed my hands over my arms, my fingers stroking the spot where he’d touched my skin.
After a few moments my daze cleared, and I got the bag of trash into one of the nearly full dumpsters.
I took one last look at the creep on the ground and then turned and went into the bar.
The next morning, my doorbell chimed. I shot up in bed, terrified, my heart in my throat. I’d been completely asleep, dead to the world, and the noise had sounded like it was playing on speakers directly in my bedroom. Cursing and sleepy-eyed, I got up, tripping on the comforter that hung off the side of the bed. I found a pair of pajama shorts before heading into the living room to the front door.
“You’re a terrible person, do you know that?” I glowered at Shelly as she stood on the steps holding two coffees and a paper bag from our favorite bakery. We used to do our homework together at Madeline’s. We’d sit in the back, sharing a chocolate croissant and a latte because that was all Shelly could afford. I always offered to pay, but Shelly never accepted charity.
“You look like hell,” Shelly said. Her honey blond hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she was wearing white denim shorts and a pink sleeveless tank. Her toenails were a subtle shade of coral. The woman didn’t ever look like she worked nights. No bags under the eyes. No pale skin from lack of sleep. Fresh as a spring daisy.
Always.
“I didn’t get to sleep until about four,” I admitted, waving her inside.
She handed me one of the to-go cups. “Why is that, I wonder?”
Shelly had tried to get me to talk about Colt and the kiss when we’d been closing up the bar. While we washed glasses, put the chairs on the tables, and swept the floor, she needled me relentlessly. I’d only managed to escape her inquisition because I’d volunteered to clean the bathrooms and then taken out the garbage. Not only did I want to escape her determination to find out how good the kiss was, but I also wanted to see if the guy Colt had beat up was still there.
He wasn’t.
“You got away last night, but I need details. And I need them now.”
“Why?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen to grab a plate from the cabinet. I took the pastry bag from Shelly and unloaded the pastries onto a plate. We both sat at the old Formica kitchen table from the 1950s. It was orange and hideous, but it had been my grandmother’s favorite piece of furniture and I didn’t have the heart to replace it. I didn’t have the heart to redecorate her home at all, actually. Surrounded by the decor of my childhood, I kept the memory of my grandmother alive as best I could.
“Why?” she asked, mouth agape. She tore the croissant but didn’t take a bite yet. “How long have we known each other?”
“Twelve years,” I said.
“Right. I’ve been there for boyfriends who have become ex boyfriends, I was the first phone call after you lost your virginity, and not once have I ever seen the look on your face that I saw last night—after you kissed a total stranger. A biker, no less. I was trying to tell you about the whole biker thing and you wouldn’t let me.”
“Let you? We were at work. What was I supposed to do? Ask our customers to stop ordering drinks so you could give me the run down? I got the memo. Don’t get involved.”
She popped a croissant bite into her mouth and chewed. After she swallowed and washed it down with coffee, she replied, “You shouldn’t have singled them out. You don’t understand them like I do.”
“You know the Blue Angels?”
She shook her head. “No, but I told you I know biker culture. My mom…” Shelly trailed off, not wanting to say more about the woman who’d given her life, but not much else. “Anyway, bikers are weird. They’re like, oddly possessive of their women. But they fuck arounda lot. Fidelity isn’t big in their world.”
“Okay? What does any of that have to do with me?”
“Just, don’t get involved with this guy, okay? You’re a good girl. A nice girl. You deserve more than some rough biker who won’t come home to you every night. They don’t have normal jobs, or live normal lives. They’re not suburbs and white picket fence guys.”
Normal.
Yeah, nothing about my interaction with Colt had been normal.
I forced a smile. “I think it’s really sweet that you’re trying to warn me off, but you’re forgetting something. He just kissed me. I doubt he’s even still thinking about me.”
“That’s what I was trying to explain to you. You may not want him, but hedefinitelywants you. For him to kiss you in public like that? It was basically him putting his brand on you.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s just dumb.”