First Ride (3 page)

“Graduated valedictorian of the School of Hard Knocks, baby. Now it’s your turn.” I never even graduated high school, but I’ll bet
she
graduated with honors.

She bites the corner of her lip, debating whether to tell me or not. “Numerical theory.”

Bingo! With one small piece of her puzzle in place, I imagine her furiously writing some long, drawn-out equation with her sexy hair falling loose from a pencil used to pin it in place, biting on her lip while she tries to figure out the answer.

“You good with numbers?” I wonder aloud, roughly putting together an idea.

She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “What do you think?”

If she only had a clue what I’m thinking right now. She’d slap me across the face, call me a sick perverted bastard and hightail it out of here.

“I think you need money. I think you need a job. I think you’re hired.” I seal the deal although she obviously has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Excuse me?”

“Can you start tonight?” With Baby out, we’ve been shorthanded; hence why my boys are performing menial tasks like tending bar. Not to mention that I sacked Tommy, the old manager, the other night after the crap he pulled with Angel.

When it comes to the ledgers, no one else touches them except me, but I need a second set of hands around here to manage everything else. She seems like she has a good head on her shoulders.

“Wha—what do you mean? I can’t work here. I already told you that the other night. I tried, and I couldn’t do it, remember?” she’s quick to reply.

As if I could forget.

“I’m not talking about on the stage, Angel. I’m talking about behind the bar, working the register. Keep track of the cash during the shows.” The more in-depth I reveal my plan, the more I like it.

“You know how to work a tap? Pour a shot?” I arch my eyebrow, waiting to see how she’ll try and talk her way out of that. I could train a monkey to do those things. Hell, even the prospects can manage it when they’re not drinking more than they’re serving.

The last time I put Esè behind the counter on one of our busiest nights, he cost me more than he made me.

Angel looks wary. “Yeah, I can do that. Are you serious about this?”

I laugh, standing to my feet. “Angel, you have a lot to learn about me. First, I don’t bulllshit. If I say something, you never have to ask me if I’m serious. Now, can you start tonight, or what?”

Her large brown eyes widen and for the first time since I’ve met her, she looks … happy.

“Oh, my God. You have no idea how much this means to me! But, I can’t start tonight. I made a promise I have to keep. But, first thing tomorrow I’ll make my schedule wide open. Is that okay?”

We leave my office under a very different air than when we entered, surprising several of the nosy sons of bitches that have been hanging around waiting to see the turn out from our little standoff.

“Hey Gryff!” I call out to the man browsing his phone near the liquor bottles. “You can stop your bitching, I hired us a new girl to help Baby out. Starts tomorrow. ‘Till then though, you’re pouring beer.”

His shaggy hair falls around his rolling eyes. “You motherfucker. You probably set this up to get me to play beer wench for you one more night, didn’t you?”

Flipping him off, I dismiss him. “What can I say? No one knows how I like my beer foam like you do, bro. Angel here will take you out of your misery soon enough, so stop acting like a bitch and get me another pint.”

“You parked out front?” I ask Angel as she holds out her hand to formally introduce herself to her stand-in for the night.

She nods to me sideways.

“I’ll walk you out, show you where the employees park. We save the front spots for the bikes and for the customers,” I leave the two of them to finish their goodbyes.

“Why don’t you open the door for her too, D? You know, show her what a
gentleman
you are,” Chase, the club enforcer shouts out laughing a safe distance away. He would
never
have the balls to say that if he were in striking distance.

I don’t even need to turn and face him. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up and go clean the bathroom. When I get back I’ll show you what a
gentleman
I am.”

The mid-afternoon sun is cast in just the right way to make me slant my eyes and shield them from the intense rays. This time of day, besides the dozen or so bikes, the lot’s only got a couple of cars in it and I know all of them as regulars.

The only one to stand out as new to me is a rusty pile of dented shit that makes me do a double take. For a second, I think it must be the wicked glare that fools my eyes into seeing things.

After I blink a few times and walk my way around the fender, I’m sure though. This thing has no business being on the road. Not today, not yesterday, not five years ago.

“This yours?” I ask mainly in disbelief of what I’m seeing as I hear her light footsteps crunching in the gravel behind me, catching up.

Her voice is wrought with embarrassment. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, I know it’s a piece of shit, but it’s a piece of shit that runs. Sometimes.”

My eyebrow arches at the last word. I’d bet good money this engines dies more than it runs. Looking through the rear window closest to me, something catches my eye that makes me seething mad.

A kid’s car seat.

With a couple of little dolls and small toys spread over the bench seat in the back of this deathtrap, there’s a kid’s car seat. A few thoughts fight amongst themselves to take center stage in the fury that begins to take hold in me.

First, she’s got a kid, a family thing going on although I didn’t see any hint of a wedding ring. She’s such a good-girl type that it didn’t really occur to me that she’d be saddled with a kid without being married, so it didn’t seem like a possibility even though I should know better. Women get jammed up all the time.

The second reason making me grit my teeth hard enough to break rocks right now is that some asshole allows his woman and baby to drive around in this deathtrap.

“Your Ol’ man lets you ride in this?” I’m growling now, the way I do when my boys know I’m ready to break some skulls.

Her metal keys jingle and I watch in disbelief as she. She really thinks someone is gonna steal this?

She gives me no choice but to step aside or risk being hit by the door she opens. I’m shocked it doesn’t fall off the fucking hinges. “My dad died when I was a kid. Air Force. Training accident.”

If I wasn’t so crazy mad right now, I’d laugh. “Not your pop, Angel. Your
man
.”

Even though she’s sitting in the driver’s seat now, she doesn’t look up at me when I rest my arm on the roof of the car to lean in.

“No dad. No man. Just me and Sasha.” Her keys fumble a bit before she manages to find the right one. “And my mom, in between hospital stays.”

Angel clenches her eyes tight enough for tiny little lines to show themselves at the outside corners as the ignition is turned, and I know she’s praying for the hunk of junk to start.

I’m praying it doesn’t.

It takes three tries but the high-pitched whining of a very distressed motor is finally heard.

“Sorry, Angel. Can’t let you drive off in this thing. I wouldn’t be able to lay my head down on the pillow tonight if I knew I let you drive off to your death.” I know there’s nothing that I can physically do to stop her from driving over my foot and taking off other than maybe shoot the tires flat. She doesn’t know me well enough to be able to tell just how serious I am, but I’m hoping she hears it in my voice and doesn’t push that gas pedal.

My gun is loaded and ready if she does. My aim is great and I can get at least one tire before she makes it out of the lot.

She pauses. “Mr. Dawson--”

“Just Dawson, Angel.”

“Dawson. I appreciate your concern, really, I do. But, nobody tells me what I can or cannot do.” The brown eyes that have some type of power over me finally look up, full of conviction.

Her hand moves to the gearshift, putting the tranny in drive as it makes a God-awful grinding sound.

I can see she doesn’t quite get it.

“See, here’s the thing, Angel.” I lean down so she can hear me perfectly.

“Molly. Stop calling me Angel! My name’s Molly!”

Molly.

I’ve never met a Molly before, but somehow it now becomes one of the most exotic names, fitting her perfectly. I don’t let myself get distracted.

“Not sure what kind of assholes you’re used to dealing with, Angel, but no way in hell can a Slayer let any woman leave this place in a shitbox like this. Got a rep to protect. So, do me a solid, and don’t make me do something we’re both gonna regret, kay?”

She sighs, sitting back forcefully against the worn cloth of her seat, beginning to realize what I’m implying. “Listen, I only live about three miles away. No highways. Sasha’s got toys in the back and I’ve got things in the trunk that I need. I promise I’ll find some other way to work so you don’t have to worry about your
reputation
, but I need to get this car home tonight.”

I feel a tightness in my chest, one I’ve never felt before as I find myself doing something I’ve never done; consider compromising.

I bite my lip to try and stop myself from saying what I’m on the verge of saying, but it doesn’t work. “Fine. Three miles. Only if I follow you to make sure this thing doesn’t catch fire and you
never
get behind this wheel again.”

She looks relieved. “Promise.”

Tapping the hood of the car to symbolically seal the deal, I can see her smile before I turn to walk away.

I call out over my shoulder as I head toward the long line of Harleys, with mine being the very first in the parked procession. “Let me get my bike. And keep it under thirty. Those wheels look like they’ll pop off the axle any minute!”

Fuck. Sure, I’m pissed that she’s gonna drive the thing but I’m more pissed that she got me to do the one thing no one has ever managed to.

Change my mind.

CHAPTER THREE

MOLLY

I don’t know why, but every time I look in the rearview window I’m surprised to see the motorcycle there. It’s not that I’ve never had someone voice concern about me before, but it’s the first time someone’s actually gone out of their own way to show it.

I mean, he’s an important guy, right? Busy with the club and all the other business they do. Why does he give a shit about me or whether I get home safe? I don’t know much about him other than his reputation around town but it just doesn’t make any sense to me.

For sure his girlfriend or wife wouldn’t appreciate it. I’d heard him talking to the other guy behind the bar—what was his name again? I think hard. I’m so terrible with remembering people’s names, and the loud rumbling of the bike behind me doesn’t help much with my concentration.

Gryff! That’s it! He told
Gryff
that his baby would be back soon to work the bar. I don’t know why it shocked me a little bit when I heard it, as I should have known that a hot, sexy guy like him wouldn’t be single. Not that I have any business getting mixed up with anyone right now, let alone someone who’s as notoriously dangerous as he is, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t at least daydream about him.

Now, knowing that he’s got a woman in his life, it just wouldn’t feel right. I’d feel like I was breaking some kind of girl code or something by wanting something that belonged to someone else. Nothing’s more disgusting than a cheater, and even if he and I were only cheating in my mind I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror.

He’s done more for me in the last forty-eight hours than anyone else except mom has done for me in my whole life. I don’t know why, and I don’t want to jinx anything by even putting the question out into the universe, but I really hope it’s not because he’s looking for a little something on the side behind his baby’s back.

I shake my head hard.

No
, I tell myself. He’s not like that. There’s something about him, something I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t think he’s the kind of guy he wants people to think he is.

Taking a deep breath as I make the turn into the entrance to Lana’s apartment building, I promise myself that, no matter what, I’m going to keep things on the straight and narrow between him and I.

No matter
how
goddamned hot he looks on that bike.

As soon as I saw him swing his leg over the seat of the giant, shiny, black and chrome bike, I creamed my panties. I’ve never had a thing for bikers. I had no idea seeing one like that would do what it did to me.

I’ve got to put those feelings aside. This has got to work out. I need this job. I need the money. I need to feel like I’m actually getting ahead in life and not drowning in the massive amount of shit that keeps raining down on me.

I can’t risk anything fucking this all up, like his baby picking up on me having a small, temporary thing for her “Ol’ man,” as Dawson called it before. I’ll avoid him, steer clear, make sure it’s strictly an employee/employer thing going on. And I’ll make sure his woman knows it too.

Sasha’s little face and chubby cheeks peek out through the front window of Lana’s place as soon as the telltale engine sounds of my old Honda pull up and park in front.

It kind of sounds like a handful of screws being thrown into a blender.

I wave to the sweet little girl with her infectious smile and the light in her eyes instantly takes hold of me. To her, it doesn’t matter what my car looks like or how badly broken down it is. It doesn’t matter how many bills with red warning letters stamped on them are piled up on my counter.

It doesn’t matter how old my clothes are or that my hair hasn’t been done.

It only matters that I’m home, that I’ve come back to her, and it makes all the other things seem … not important. She’s all that matters and right now I’ve got a promise to her to keep. I’ll pack her and her toys up and then take her home to our shoebox of an apartment to make some spaghetti and I’ll let her throw it against the wall to check if it’s done, because I know it makes her laugh.

That laugh will make every bad thing that’s happened today fade away.

The beast of a motorcycle that followed me from the club lingers for a moment, idling at the far end of the lot. Dawson’s got dark sunglasses on and he’s too far away for me to read his facial expressions, but I can see him,
feel
him watching me.

My mouth suddenly dries as I realize … I
like
him watching me.

Crap!

~*~

“Again, again!” Sasha squeals out, kicking her tiny feet excitedly as she lies in bed, all bundled up.

Contrary to what she wants, I close the small cardboard book and kiss her semi damp hair that still smells like baby shampoo. “Not tonight, baby girl. It’s past your bedtime, and you’ve heard it a million times before.”

“Again, again!” She repeats, louder, and more demanding.

“Bedtime,” I take the corners of her pink princess blanket and pull it higher, pressing it firmly at her sides and under her chin. “We’ll read it again tomorrow. Love you.”

With perfect timing, her arms stretch themselves and her mouth opens in a long, drawn-out yawn, closing her crystal blue eyes tight to let it out. The bouncy, golden ringlets of hair that frame her face are almost completely dry from her bath and spread over her pink and purple pillowcase.

One more kiss before I get up from her little bed. I blow her a kiss from the door just before turning the light off and close the door halfway. Her pink nightlight fills the darkened room with a soft colorful glow.

I know it won’t be more than a couple of hours before she wanders into my own bedroom, either from a nightmare or because she’s afraid of the dark, asking to cuddle next to me. And, like always, I’ll let her, and she’ll fall right asleep.

Until then though, I have a sink full of dishes and a pile of bills to try and sort out. I saw the electric bill on top and know that’s the first one that’ll need to be paid. Otherwise, I’ll be reading Sasha her bedtime story with a flashlight.

~*~

“No, Lana. It’ll be too late. I’ll figure something else out. Maybe I’ll call a cab.” I watch from the corner of my eye as Sasha struggles to put on her little backpack.

Her clumsy little arms finally find the straps and hoist the shiny pink sack up. It doesn’t have much in it, just some pajamas, her toothbrush, and her book. She’s a frequent visitor over at Lana’s house so there are plenty of toys for her there and Lana loves the occasional sleepover.

I can only imagine how late my shift will run tonight. I’ve passed the building more than a handful of times well after midnight and the parking lot’s always been full. It wouldn’t be fair to have Lana wake Sasha up in the middle of the night to come pick me up after work.

Sasha already has
enough
trouble sleeping.

I know I had promised my new boss that I’d find some other way to work than driving the old Honda he condemned last night but Lana driving me too and from work just isn’t an option if it means Sasha’s going to suffer for it.

It’ll be much easier once mom’s released from the hospital, whenever that’ll be. She’s not well enough to watch Sasha full-time during the day, but she can manage to watch things overnight while I’ll be working.

That’s the plan at least. If nothing else over the past few months, I’ve learned that
nothing
goes perfectly according to plan. I’m sure I’ll have to make other arrangements at some point, but for now, thank God for Lana.

“Let’s go, cutie pie! We can watch the new princess movie and order some pizza for dinner,” Lana bends down to pick up Sasha, who bounces on her hip while landing.

I hate not being with her tonight but I may be able to make enough money to get caught up on bills and have enough left over to put her in the petite gymnastics class she wants to join. I know that’ll cheer her up.

“Be good for Aunt Lana. And make sure to brush your teeth before bed. I’ll come get you before you wake up in the morning.” I reach forward and kiss her smooth forehead.

Lana and I make eye contact and I nod to her, signaling to leave while the going’s good. It won’t be long before the precocious little child in her arms begins to protest having to leave.

I hold the door open for them, and Lana begins to distracting her. “What type of pizza should we get, hmm? How ‘bout … with
sardines
?”

I can hear the tiny little laughter as Sasha’s carried away. I watch her being loaded into the car seat that we took from my own car earlier, but have to force myself to turn away before my little girl sees me through the glass door.

Wiping the warm tear from my eye, I check my watch. I have forty minutes to get to work. My pace hastens and I check my reflection in the mirror. Deep red leather cowboy boots with just a touch of fringe on the back and my denim skirt hitting a few inches above the knee, with a cute little white shirt that shows just enough to get me some extra tips, but not enough for my boobs to spill out whenever I bend down.

I remember the girls I’ve seen walking around the club either working there or on the arm of some guy at the bar. Their tits put mine to shame and I’m sure they cost more cash than I’ve seen in a long time. Even if I ever have the cash, which I probably won’t, I’d never think about spending it on something so shallow and trivial as balloons injected into my boobs.

I may be a small cup size, but they’re all mine.

Once satisfied with my choice of work attire, I run my fingers through the gentle blonde waves over my shoulder. Good to go. Now I just need to figure a way to get to work. Hopefully, I’ll be able to bum a ride home from one of the other girls later tonight.

Without a house phone I rummage through my leather purse for my cell and copy the digits from the magnet on the fridge to the only taxi company in town. Riverdale’s not big by any means, maybe thirteen hundred people. One cab company has always seemed more than enough.

“H—hello. I’d like a taxi please,” I speak shyly into the receiver once the operator picks up.

“Where from and to, hon?” She asks automatically. I can hear some kind of typing in the background and it sounds like she’s chewing on some gum.

I give her the information she asked for.

“That’ll be twenty three dollars and about an hour ‘till the driver reaches you.”

My heart sinks. An hour! I’ll be late for work! On my first day!

I can’t risk losing the job before I even officially start it, and the thought of handing over twenty-three dollars for the lift will eat away at me, I just know it. That alone could pay for one of the gymnastics classes that I want to put Sasha in.

I bite my lip and weigh my options silently. “Oh. I’ll find another way. Sorry to waste your time, ma’am.”

The clicking on the other end of the call is the only response I get.

Great.
Now
what the fuck am I gonna do? I can feel the second hand on the imaginary clock in my mind ticking by as more and more time is wasted. I have no choice. I’ll have to drive myself. If it becomes an issue, I’ll just explain that my ride fell through. I’m sure he’ll understand, I mean, he’s a reasonable guy, right?

An image flashes through my head of him staring down at me yesterday when I tried to hand over the cash he’d given me. I swallow hard. Okay, maybe he’s not a reasonable guy. I’ll just tuck my car in one of the farthest spots in the back lot and hide it. It’ll be dark, I tell myself. He’ll never even see it.

Smiling to myself with my little covert plan in place, I grab my bag, my keys, my sunglasses and head out to work, locking up the apartment. We were robbed once and I know the feeble front door is no match for anyone with half a mind to get in, not to mention half of the windows don’t even lock properly, but it’s a habit so I work the key in the old door handle.

It’s late afternoon and there’s just a little bite to the air that tells you night is coming. I breathe deep, always having loved this time of year. There’s a crispness to the air that only late summer can offer. For the handful of years I was away at college in Miami, I missed this, always trying to find some kind of hint of it but never being able to.

There were two different seasons there. Hot and Hotter.

My student loans had barely covered the expensive tuition, so I almost never came home. Maybe if I had, I’d have been able to tell how bad things were getting for my family, would have been able to step in before things got as bad as they did.

I shake my head. Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty and there’s no use crying over spilt milk. Things are what they are. I’m only glad I got here when I did otherwise Sasha would probably have been put in foster care and mom would have ended up on the streets.

Life may be hard now, but it’s nothing compared to what it could’ve been. I tell that to myself over and over whenever things feel hopeless and it usually snaps me out of it real fucking fast.

Once inside the Honda, I perform the usual ritual and close my eyes tight while starting the ignition. The Gods take pity on me tonight and it starts on the first try.