Authors: Casey Elliot
I think I began to wear him down too. In between customers, I told him about my plans for the university, and how I was still debating what to do with myself afterward. I said how I had never done much traveling, but how I dreamed of just hopping on a bike and getting out of Dodge one day. I also told him how I'd had to sell my Harley to pay for my last semester's tuition. After the money from that ran out, I had been forced to come home and get a job until I could pay to go back.
I didn't tell him why I'd run out of money so quick. He didn't ask.
He never really asked anything, but he always listened attentively. He didn't volunteer much about himself either, despite the fact that he was in the military and drove a Harley. I'd already surmised as much, so that wasn't exactly soul exposing, but I liked to hear the passion in his voice when he talked about his career or about riding down long stretches of uninhabited road in places like Nevada and Arizona. I'd never been to either. He told me that was crazy, and that if I hadn't been to Vegas, I was sorely missing out.
When Sunday drew to a close, I looked forward to sleeping in the next day, and then having the whole rest of the day to do with as I pleased. I had the next two days off and no plans.
When he hopped off his stool on Sunday night, he said he'd see me tomorrow. I corrected him, said I'd see him on Wednesday.
"You're not working tomorrow?"
"I can't work every day of the week," I replied, smiling.
He frowned. "Who's going to bore me with stupid stories of their childhood?"
He was flirting with me! And, not in the lustful way I was accustomed to. Gage was actually flirting with me in the cute way that a boy flirts with a girl before he asks her out.
Wait. Was Gage going to ask me out?
I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't on board with this. I shooed him out of the bar before he could say anything else, and I locked the doors behind him.
Darn. There was that disappointment again. I was going to have to do something about all those errant emotions.
Gage
I didn't expect to be as let down as I was that I wouldn't get to see Hayley for two days. Of course, it made sense that she would take a day off every now and then, but it still took me by surprise. She had become somewhat of a permanent fixture in my 'vacation' life, and I wasn't sure what I would do without her for the next couple of days.
If I went back to the bar, what if they had some other girl tending it whose face didn't read like a teleprompter? It became obvious to me that I wasn't going back to the bar tonight. There was only one place I wanted to be, I realized — and it was with her.
I shrugged that off as my lust messing with my head. Nonetheless, I still wanted to see her, and there was only one way for me to do so.
I hopped on my bike and rode around to the area she said her parents lived in. She might not have thought that I was paying attention while she rambled on about her life, but I had been. I had every detail memorized in my brain, and could practically visualize the terrain; the benefits of being a soldier.
I knew what neighborhood she was in, but I didn't know the house. That would cause some difficulty. I rode through a couple times, trying to decide whether her parents were more likely to live in a bungalow or a two-storey, godawful, pink monstrosity. There seemed to be no in between.
Luckily for me, the sound of my bike had caused some curiosity for some of the residents. Well, one of the residents — the only one who counted.
"What the heck are you doing here?" Hayley said, walking to the end of her driveway. She was trying to contain the delight on her face, but she was failing miserably.
I assessed her outfit; a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a tank top that showed a generous amount of cleavage, with a satisfied smile.
"I'm ready to tell you my story," I said simply.
She crossed her arms. The effect was even more tantalizing when she wasn't wearing a t-shirt.
I thought she was going to object, and that we would end up bickering in her driveway for a bit before she eventually gave in, but she simply walked back inside. At first, I was at a loss as to how to proceed, but she came out moments later wearing a black leather jacket, and holding a helmet against her hip. Oh, did she look good.
She climbed on the back of my bike without a word, slipping her arms around my sides and pressing her body against my back. The vibrations of the bike hummed through us, and I revved it a couple of times to get the full effect.
She playfully smacked me in the chest and I took off, navigating back out onto the highway, then across it to the coast road.
Her body pressed against mine was delicious, and with every turn, she squeezed a little tighter. She had great balance, and probably could have held on with just those powerful thighs of hers. The squeeze was just for me.
I pulled down one country road, and then another, conscious of the gravel under my wheels. Eventually, we pulled up in front of a thicket of trees. I turned the bike off, and pulled off my helmet.
"Uh..." said Hayley, after she had removed her own helmet. "Where are we?"
She dismounted, and I followed suit. Then, I grabbed her hand and led her through the trees.
When we came out on the other side, Hayley's breath caught in her throat. We were in a small clearing at the edge of a cliff. Underneath us, the waves crashed and roared against the rocks, churning and retreating to do it all over again.
"I wasn't expecting this," was all Hayley said, as she went to the edge of the cliff. She sat down and dangled her feet into the abyss. I knew she would be the daring type.
I joined her, sitting close enough so that our thighs touched. She didn't shimmy away.
"This is where my best friend Eric and I used to come when we first got home from deployment," I explained. "We'd take our bikes and some beers, and come hang out and talk about everything we'd seen."
She didn't rush me. She simply nodded her head and looked out to the horizon.
"That sounds nice," she said when I didn't continue.
"It was."
"So, why are we here now?" she asked.
"Because Eric's dead."
Hayley
His words jarred me. I hadn't expected when he picked me up outside my house, that he had actually intended to let me in. Now that he was, I didn't want to scare him off. I wasn't sure whether I should ask questions or just be silent. I decided that he probably wouldn't just offer the story out to me, so I was going to have to take it.
"I'm sorry," I said. He was leaning backward against his hands, and I reached mine back just enough to rest my fingers over his. He didn't shake me off, which I had half-expected him to do.
"Why have you been in my bar for the past week?" I figured that talking about his friend was something that I could come back to. Besides, more than likely, the two topics were related.
He scoffed. "Buchanan pulled rank on me and made me take a vacation." He gave me an amused sidelong glance. "I was getting into too many fights, if you can believe that."
I chuckled. "You? In a fight? I can't imagine anyone wanting to lay a finger on you."
He smiled wryly. "Yet, here I am."
"I'm glad you are," I said.
I think I must have surprised both of us. Gage certainly hadn't been expecting it. His eyes darted over to me, one eyebrow quirked.
To break the tension, I added, "You've been keeping me fed in tips. I was on plain pasta before you came along."
We laughed, and then descended into a comfortable silence. I don't know how long we sat that way. I probably would have been content to sit a bit longer, but I felt like there was more that needed to be aired out first. There was a war going on in that impenetrable head of his; I could practically hear the guns and cannons firing, and the charge of the cavalry. That man hadn't known peace in a long time.
"Were you getting into fights because you blame yourself?" I asked.
I knew I had hit the nail on the head when his hand retracted from beneath mine and he stood abruptly.
"I told you why I'm here," he said darkly. "You got your prize."
I scrambled onto my feet to face him. "This isn't about what I won in some stupid music bingo," I countered. "You need to face this yourself."
His eyes trained onto mine, and in that moment, I saw him as he saw himself — a killer. His teeth ground together so hard that I could see his jaw tick, but he made no other movements.
"Gage," I said softly. "Whatever happened —"
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"It wasn't your fault. You couldn't ha —"
"I should have been there!"
His outburst rang through the air, out over the ocean, where it was swallowed by the tumbling waves. The ferocity in his eyes melted before me, and I took a tentative step before him.
"He needed me and I wasn't there," he said. "And now, he's dead."
"Where were you?"
He slipped off his leather jacket and dropped it to the grass. Then, he pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt so that I could see the top of his shoulder. A red, puckered scar marred his skin; a bullet wound.
"On one of our missions, I got sloppy. Got shot," he explained. "Then, when Eric needed me, I was still in a medical tent recovering from a wound that should have never happened."
I took another couple of steps toward him. We were only a foot or two away from each other now, and I raised a hand to his chest.
"It wasn't your fault, Gage," I said.
"I don't need your absolution," he said quietly.
"No," I agreed. "You need your own."
He sighed and placed his hand over mine, holding my fingers to his heartbeat. I could feel the heat of his skin beneath his shirt, and the hard outline of his muscle. He was skin and bones, flesh and blood, just like the rest of us. He just needed to remember that.
"You're one helluva bartender," he commented.
I smiled. "A girl's gotta have more than one talent."
He turned and walked back to the cliff's edge, sitting back down with a sigh. I followed.
“What are you doing bartending?” he asked.
I didn’t mind the topic-change. I was confident I’d be able to bring it back around.
“Saving money to get back to school, like I said,” I replied.
He shook his head. “You know that’s not what I meant. Why’d you stop going to school in the first place? Why go bartend at a big bad biker bar? I’m sure there’s other things around for you to do.”
I frowned. “I like being a bartender.”
“You know what I mean.”
Well, it appeared we were both dragging out our skeletons into the light. “My ex-boyfriend was a jerk. Among other things, he took off with my savings and disappeared.”
Gage whistled. “He should hope that I never meet him.”
I tried not to grin like an idiot. “It wasn’t really my plan at the time,” I continued, “but I think I ended up working in a biker bar because I figured that nobody could get me there. I didn’t have to play nice if I wasn’t being respected.” I shrugged. “And, I guess if he ever came in, nobody would mind if I threw a bottle at his head.”
Gage laughed heartily, tipping his head back and showing all of his straight white teeth. Dang, he was good looking. We settled back into our companionable silence for awhile. I was the first one to break it.
"What was he like? Eric?" I asked.
Gage let out another bark of laughter. "He was crazy. An absolute nut bar."
"Sounds like the best kind of person."
Gage's eyes tracked the flight of a seagull that passed by. "He was," he replied. "You would have liked him."
I snorted. "I don't know. It took me awhile to like you." I gave him a playful jab in the ribs.
He rubbed his ribs in fake affrontement. "Alright, fair enough; he would have liked you, then."
I don't know why getting the approval of Gage's dead best friend was so heartwarming to me, but it was. I smiled and leaned into Gage's side, resting my head on his shoulder. I could tell that he looked down at me quizzically, and probably considered shaking me off, but he let me stay.
Dusk began to settle, and we watched the last rays of the evening sun sink into the horizon together. Something had changed between us that day, and at first, I couldn't put my finger on it. When the last vestige of light was all but a memory, it hit me — trust. I trusted Gage now, and he trusted me.
Funny how these things happen.
"Should we go?" Gage asked.
I didn't reply right away, and I think he took that as a sign of my assent. He stood up and lowered a hand down to help me up. I took it, but not because I was ready to go.
He began walking back toward the woods, but when I wasn't following, he turned to face me. I think I meant to say something snarky about getting a move on, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that I had pulled off my jacket and dropped it to the ground.