Slate (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (4 page)

“Yes, sir, anything,” and that response was genuinely eager.

“You gotta be nice to Ben. He don’t deserve the momma he got, like you don’t deserve your daddy. Be his friend, if you can.” Picking his head up, he looked the kid in the face as he let his arm go.

Sitting for a second, the boy nodded his head vigorously up and down. “Yes, sir. I need friends, too.”

Leaning across him, Andy pushed the door open. He waggled his fingers at him. “Go on, get. Go call your friend and let him know the deal. If I find out you’ve gone back on your word…I
will
come get ya.” He watched with a little grin as the kid skedaddled out of the lot and into the trees, headed home in the dark as fast as he could run.

Andy got out of the truck, and went back into the store for some paint thinner and rags to clean the still-wet paint off his truck. He came back out with a weary sigh and squatted down to start the job that would take up most of his sleeping time. Work at the feed mill would start at seven in the morning, but it wasn’t the first time he’d worked a shift with no sleep. He was wrong earlier—
this
was the chocolate drizzle on top of the cherry sittin’ on his shit sundae this week.

4 -
   
Motorcycle

Eleven
years ago

Standing across the street from the Harley Davidson showroom in Cheyenne, Andy was almost drooling at the sight of the motorcycles lined up across the front of the store. He wanted a bike in the worst way, and he could almost feel the wind on his face just looking at them. Things in Enoch had gotten hard, with lots of changes over the years. Work at the feed mill had dried up months ago, because it was cheaper for them to make the products in Mexico somewhere. He’d quit the grocery store last week when Mr. Hawthorn told him that the store was being sold.

Thank God, he’d been saving his money for years now, in two bank accounts. Every penny went into one of those two accounts, if it wasn’t spent on bills, food, or clothes for him or Ben.

The first account was for Ben’s college, and it was finally reaching a respectable balance. Andy worked with an investment manager at the bank to get the money into a high-return account, which would mature right when Ben’d need it for school. His grandparents knew about the money, and were proud of what Andy had done to provide for his brother in only a handful of years.

Andy’s living arrangements had been back and forth for a while, between his grandparents and his mom, and then he’d moved out on his own several years ago. Recently, he’d taken a job at a ranch, taking care of their windmill equipment, and part of the pay was room and board. It was an ideal arrangement, since it meant he didn’t have any rent to pay, which was especially important now since he wasn’t working anywhere else.

That second bank account was nearly as healthy as Ben’s college fund, and it had long been earmarked for a motorcycle for Andy. When he was thirteen, his dad had driven the two of them down to Cheyenne for Frontier Days, while his mom and three-year-old Ben stayed home. His dad had run into some old friends, and one of them had taken Andy on a couple of short rides on a bike. And, just as simple as that, he was hooked.

Not long after that, his dad bought him a cheap dirt bike, and Andy rode it all over the ranch. It had freed him, and fed his imagination too. On the bike, he had pretended he was a famous daredevil jumping river canyons, a Hollywood actor living the bad-boy life, or a lawman hunting criminals. He could be anything, and everything.

Asking himself again why he wanted a bike so badly, he leaned back against his truck fender. He knew the answer, of course, but it was a mental exercise he felt the need to complete again. He wanted a bike, because in the truck—even driving a hundred miles an hour—he felt caged. Only on a bike did he really feel free, and the carefree lifestyle of riding the road appealed to him. He’d been the responsible one for so much of his life, holding everything together with willpower alone; he couldn’t imagine if all that pressure was simply gone...
poof
.

He loved his GeeMa and GeePa, and God knew he loved Benny. He even loved his mom, but he didn’t like her. He loved these people in his life, but he wanted to be more than...anything he’d been so far, more than they expected.

He’d stood in this spot at least once a year for the past three years, and every time he’d talked himself out of the purchase, because in his heart, he knew that it was more than purely buying a motorcycle. He’d also be buying himself a departure, an exit strategy. Once he bought a bike, he knew he wouldn’t want to stick around Enoch any longer, especially now, when there was hardly anything holding him here.

Looking both ways for traffic, he strode across the road, pausing for a second to look at the bikes parked in a line in front of the building again. These were all owned by employees or customers, and it was amazing to see the many different kinds people rode. He’d been promising himself a Harley and had saved enough to pay cash for a used one, which was saying—he’d saved a lot.

Stepping into the store, he was straightaway at ease; the smells and sounds were like coming home. He listened to the rumble of pipes from the garage behind the counter, taking note of the singing from a bike being revved. Strolling towards the counter, he caught the eye of an older man with a full beard and the required black Harley t-shirt. The old guy came over and stuck out his hand, introducing himself, “Harddrive, man,” and they shook. “What brings you in today?”

“Andy,” he replied, “and I think I want to buy a bike today.”

Harddrive shook with laughter. “Kid, you’ve walked into the wrong candy store.” He chortled some more. “These aren’t cheap, man.”

Andy nodded. “I know, but I want to see what’s available today before I go to the bank.”

Harddrive scrutinized his face for a minute, then nodded and threw back his head, roaring, “Man wants to see some fucking bikes. We got bikes, motherfuckers?”

There were answering shouts in the affirmative from workers and customers alike, and Harddrive put his arm around Andy’s shoulders. Steering him outside, they made their way to the end of the row of bikes parked out front. One by one, he patiently explained about each one: what the engine was capable of, what the style felt like when taking an extended ride versus a short one, the history of the make or model, the climate needs of some bikes, and a dozen other facts that came so fast it was hard for Andy to process.

Walking through the building to the back, they looked at used bikes for sale, and Harddrive continued the commentary, telling him about every one they looked at. Andy saw there was a pretty red and white number coming up, and he was looking forward to learning about that one, but listening to Harddrive explain about an inline shifter on one of the bikes, Andy realized he’d skipped the one he liked.

“Um...what about that one there, the red and white one?” he asked, barely stopping himself from saying the bike was pretty.

“That’s an Indian, and a pain in the ass to fix,” Harddrive explained. “It’s a nice bike, good for both town and touring, beautiful, classic style with large fairings on the wheels to capture or deflect rain or dirt. The seat’s comfortable, nice and wide, with a brace to keep your ass from sliding off. Pain to repair, though.” He moved on to the next bike in the row.

“Who makes the Indian?” Andy asked, and his tour guide guffawed at his naivety.

“Indian makes the Indian. That, son, is a Roadmaster, an Indian Chief Roadmaster.”

Andy kicked the gravel for a minute, and then asked, “Is that one...is it...is
she
for sale?”

Harddrive focused on him. “She speakin’ to you, son? Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that’s a pretty bike. It looks like it has enough heft to feel comfortable going up and down mountain roads, but not so heavy as to bog down on a high hill. It looks like someone needs to take care of her.” Andy cut his eyes over to the old man. “I’d like to hear her run, see what she feels like. Is she for sale?”

Harddrive nodded slowly, “She’s a good bike, man. Let’s get the key.”

5 -
   
Good news

Driving back to Enoch, Andy couldn’t keep his eyes off the rearview mirror. He was looking at the beautiful red and white motorcycle strapped into the bed of his truck. Harddrive had helped him load the bike, and showed him the best way to secure it so it wouldn’t wobble or dump over on turns or bumps.

He’d been in love with the Indian since he caught sight of it, half-hidden behind all the used Harleys at the shop. The distinctive lines of the bike were arresting; it looked hardcore and sexy as hell, and the look of the fringe on the seat was the topper. Harddrive had thrown in a pair of saddlebags for the bike; he said it was the least he could do, since Andy’s new bike would be a bitch to repair if she broke down in a remote place.

Andy’d been surprised at the price; it was less than half what he had expected to spend, so when Harddrive told him the figure, he had jumped into his truck to go to the bank right away. The guys in the store had laughed when Harddrive had to drag him back out of the truck in order to take the bike on a test drive. But
man,
he’d been glad that old guy was so stubborn, because when he rode her, it was amazing.

Getting on the Indian was nothing like his dirt bike, it was much heavier and harder to hold upright. Bigger between his thighs, there was no mistaking the potential for power in the size of the engine. Turning on the key and kicking it to life, that was a thrill he wouldn’t soon forget, and the sweet rumble of the pipes up through the soft leather seat had him rock-hard in seconds. She was definitely his new baby.

Driving out of the parking lot on the bike was exhilarating as he turned up the highway and let the throttle out a little, listening to the motor. She was smooth as glass, and he only went about five miles before he pulled a U-turn to head back. Back at the shop, he’d really wanted to be cagey and bargain the price down, but honestly, he’d been so excited he didn’t think he could stand the wait and had agreed to the first price Harddrive wrote down.

When he got back from the bank, he paid in cash and Harddrive handed over the slip for the bike. He also talked Andy into a pair of leather chaps like some of the people in the store were wearing, along with a durable leather jacket. If he could have, Andy would have left the truck there and ridden the bike home, but he knew he would need the truck for a couple more weeks anyway. So here he was, nearly home with the bike in the back of the truck.

Pulling up in front of the house he’d shared with his grandparents and little brother in past years, Andy climbed out of the truck, stretching his lean form’s tight and sore muscles. GeeMa came to the door, and seeing it was him, she raised a hand with a smile, turning back into the house. Andy tipped his head, glaring at his boot toes for a minute, kicking the dry dirt of the driveway. He hated thinking about leaving Ben, but he couldn’t contribute without working, and jobs had dried up here.

He lifted his head and looked at the house; Ben would be home from school soon, and he wanted to talk to his grandparents first. He’d heard about some good jobs in Colorado, and that was the first place he’d be headed once he set out on the bike.

6 -
   
Goodbyes

“Andrew, why would you do such a foolish thing?” scolded GeeMa about his purchase of the bike. “How much of Ben’s college money did you throw away on that motorcycle?” She leaned against the kitchen cabinet and cocked one hip, frowning at him. “Where you think you’re going to go? Why do you have to leave to get work?”

Andy folded his arms across his chest, waiting for her to wind down. There was a pause, and she quirked an eyebrow at him, waiting for his answers to her barrage of questions. “First of all, I didn’t spend any of the money for Ben’s school. That’s tied up nice and tight until the year he graduates high school. Not even Mom can get at it, so you can stop worrying about that.

“I’ve been saving money from other jobs too, so I had a little bit put aside for a rainy day; GeeMa, this is a freakin’ downpour. There aren’t any jobs around here that will pay enough to help cover expenses for Ben after bills. Everything is
barely enough to live paycheck-to-paycheck, and not ever enough to get ahead.

“There’re good jobs down in the Denver area, oilfield jobs, and I know someone who’s hiring. I got the bike, because the truck sucks oil faster than it does gas, which is pretty fast. I can’t afford to take the truck down, or if I did, I’d never be able to afford to get back up here to visit you guys. Right now, I’m planning
to stay in Enoch until the weekend, giving the Michaels’ time to find someone else to help with the windmill, and then I’ll be headed down to Denver.

“I’ll let you know an address as soon as I have one, and I picked up a cell phone today. I’ll write the number down, but it’s for emergencies, not visiting. I have this figured out, GeeMa. It’s not forever, but for now, it’s what I need to do.”

“I hate the thought of you being by yourself like that, Andy,” she said, and he knew she was convinced since she’d shifted from calling him Andrew to Andy. “What are you going to tell Ben?”

He bit his lip. “Ben’s going to understand. He’s only a child in years, not experience, and we both know that. He’s been taking care of other people for most of his life, and he knows this is how families work. We do what we have to.”