Reckless (Wrecked) (25 page)

Passing her on the way in was the police officer from the copy shop.  Candi wasn’t sure Sarah had seen him, but he’d definitely seen her.  He turned to watch her go, and then continued into the store, his eyes scanning the whole front area.  Candi backed up quickly, getting out of line and turning to run down the aisle towards the back of the store.  She was pretty sure he hadn’t seen her, and she was going to do whatever she could to make sure he didn’t.

***

Sarah spotted the bike right away.  The guy was standing next to it, using a cloth to buff the gas tank.

“Hey,” she said, walking up.  “You’re Mike, right?”

“Yes.  And you’re … Beulah?”

“Yeah.  Beulah Mayberry.  Nice to meet you.”  She held out her hand and shook his with a strong grip.

“You don’t look like a Beulah,” he said, studying her face.

“Yeah, well, I am one.  So, what’s the deal?” she asked, gesturing towards the bike.  “It run?”

“Heck yeah, it runs.  Like a dream.”

“Why are you selling it so cheap?”

He smiled bitterly.  “To save my marriage.  This thing has to be gone, like, today or my old lady’s gonna make me sleep in the garage.”

“Damn.  She sounds mad.”

“Yeah, well, she asked me to get rid of it months ago, and I just couldn’t do it.  She finally put her foot down and you know … with the economy and everything, I just haven’t been able to find anyone.”

“I’ll give you fifteen hundred for it.”

He frowned, looking pissed.  “Two grand is a steal for this bike.”

“Yeah, maybe.  But it’s all I’ve got.”  Sarah pulled the money out of her pocket.  “Take it or leave it.”  She looked over her shoulder at the cop car that was still parked by the copy shop. 
Asshole followed us to the store.  What’s his friggin problem, anyway?

“You in some kind of hurry?” he asked, tucking the polishing cloth into his back pocket.  He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the money.

“Yeah, you could say that.  The bike’s a surprise.”

“It’s not for you?”

“No.  It’s for my … dad.  Yeah, he’s been wanting a bike like this forever.  He said he had one when he was younger and really misses it.  He’ll take really good care of it, I promise.  I’ve been saving for a year for this, waiting for the perfect bike to come along.”  She decided to really lay it on thick, knowing he was close to caving.  “It’s his birthday tomorrow.  I can’t believe how lucky I was to find your ad today.  It’s like a dream come true.”

The guy sighed heavily.  “Fine.  I’ll take your offer.  But only because of your dad.  I need to be sure it’s going to go to someone who’s going to love it like I do.”

Sarah held the money out, but didn’t let it go when he put his hand on it.  “It includes those two helmets, right?”  She gestured to the one hanging from the handle bar and the one strapped to the back with bungee cords.

“Yep.”

“And the title signed over right now, too, right?”

“Of course.  You’re gonna have to go over to the DMV and get it put into your name, though.  I’m not going to do that.”

“Fine,” said Sarah, thanking her lucky stars he wasn’t going to do that or anything of the sort.  There was no way this bike was getting registered in her
or
Beulah’s name.  “Are you going to need a ride or something?” she asked, looking around.  He’d ridden the bike over, and she didn’t see any partner around to give him a lift.

He reached into a small bag that was hooked to the back of the bike’s seat, taking out some papers.  He shuffled through them, pulling a light blue one on heavy stock from the middle.  “Here’s the title.  And nah, don’t worry about it.  My wife gets off work in less than an hour, so she can pick me up here.”

“She works weird hours,” Sarah said, taking the document from him and waiting for him to get a pen from his bag.  She handed him the money which he put in his shirt pocket, and he took the title back, signing his name at the bottom.  She didn’t bother putting her name or Beulah’s on it. 
Better to remain as anonymous as possible.

“Yeah, she does.  She’s a nurse.  Here’s the registration, too, by the way.  You’ll need to show that to the DMV so they can put it in your name.”

Sarah took the paper from his hand, moving closer to the bike.  “I’m just going to put all that stuff back in here,” she said, folding all the official documents in half and closing the waterproof bag over them, making sure not to catch anything in the zipper.

He took the money out of his pocket and counted it.  When he was done he put it back and asked, “Do you know how to ride?”

Sarah took the helmet off the handle and pushed it down over her head.  It was tight, and the thick cushioning inside pressed uncomfortably against her ponytail.  She reached back and pulled the elastic around her hair out, breathing a sigh of relief over how much better it felt.  Her head was super heavy now, but it was safely encased in all this space-age plastic and foam.  “Yeah, I know how to ride.  Kind of.  Give me a quick lesson if you want.”  Sarah gripped the handles and swung her leg over the seat, straddling the bike and sitting down gingerly.  She realized immediately that it was a
lot
bigger than Jonathan’s scooter.  Her heart rate picked up as she straightened the heavy machine out and felt the weight of it beneath her.

He frowned.  “Yeah, okay … so that’s your accelerator there.”  He pointed to the right handle.  “And that’s your clutch,” he said, pointing to the left handle brake thingy.  “Brake is over there.  You shift the gear by pressing with your foot there.  It’s basically like a manual transmission in a car.”

“You mean like a car with a clutch?”

“Yeah.  Manual.  As opposed to automatic.  You
do
have your driver’s license, right?”

“Yes, of course I do.  I got it.  So first gear, second gear, third gear …”

“Yeah, you have to just get a feel for the different gears, when to shift, when to downshift.  You’ll stall if you don’t go down fast enough, just like a car.”

Sarah turned the key in the ignition.  Nothing happened.  She frowned, not sure what the heck was going on.  “It’s not working.  It’s broken.”

Mike stepped closer to the front of the motorcycle.  “Are you sure you’ve driven a bike before?  It’s not the easiest thing in the world to do, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.  It’s just been a while.  I’m used to … something smaller than this.”  Jonathan’s scooter started with a little red button by the handle.  She was scanning for something red all over the place and couldn’t see it.

Mike sighed.  “Alright.  Just turn the key like you did, and then press this button.”  He reached over and pressed a gray button, the engine turning over a few times before catching.  Mike put his hand over hers on the right handle bar and twisted it back a few times, giving the engine some gas and making it roar with life.

“Whoa … that’s loud,” said Sarah, her heart racing right along with the horses that wanted to break free from their reins and race this motorcycle across the parking lot.

“Yeah.  It’s not as bad as a Harley, but people will hear you coming.  Anyway, when you’re ready to go, just ease off on the clutch here … and twist the handle here.  The bike will pull forward pretty fast if you give it too much gas, and it’s easy to lose control, so be careful.”  He backed away, leaving Sarah alone.

“So I just turn my right hand and let out the clutch in my left?” she shouted.

“Yeah!  But put up the kickstand first!” he shouted over the roar of the engine she kept revving.  

She couldn’t help it - it was addicting, hearing that sound.  She leaned down, the helmet so heavy it made her feel like her head was just going to roll right off her shoulders.  The visor or bottom part of the helmet made it difficult to see the ground just under her.  “How do I do that?!” she yelled.

Mike walked over and tapped his foot on the black metal stick by her left foot and it popped back into place.  “Good luck, Beulah.  Take care of my baby.”

“Don’t worry, Mike.  I got it under control.  My dad’s gonna be thrilled.”  Sarah twisted the handle, letting the engine roar to life again, and slowly, slowly let up on the clutch.  She squealed with delight and fear as the bike began to crawl forward, the revving of the engine getting louder and louder as she twisted it back more in her excitement.

“Too much power!” yelled Mike.  “Too much!  Let it go!”

Sarah barely heard him, letting the clutch out even more.  Then it slipped in her sweaty fingers and popped out the rest of the way, throwing the bike forward.  She nearly flipped off the back, her legs flying up involuntarily, her death grip on the handlebars keeping her just barely in her seat.  She recovered her balance in time to realize she was headed right for the plaza sidewalk and a pole that held up the overhanging part of the roof.

“Aaahhhh!” she screamed, trying to keep the wiggling, swaying bike that seemed to have a mind of its own from collapsing and sending her into a death slide across the pavement.

By some miracle, it straightened up, and her right hand lost its grip on the handle, letting the accelerator go back to its neutral position.  The engine immediately stopped racing the bike forward and stalled, allowing her to coast to a very ungraceful stop about six inches from the edge of the sidewalk.

Mike came running over, a big grin on his face.  “Not bad, Beulah!”  He clapped her hard on the back.  “My wife totally wrecked it the first time she tried it.  That was the first time that also ended up being the
last
time she ever rode it.”

“Thanks,” said Sarah, weakly, wondering why she hadn’t peed her pants.  She looked down just to be sure she hadn’t.

“No prob.  Hey, thanks for the cash.  I hope your dad’s happy with it.”

“I’m sure he will be,” said Sarah, her heart slowly getting back to its normal rhythm.  She reached up a shaking hand and pressed the ignition button, making sure to pull the clutch in first.  The engine started right up, rumbling and humming, in a way calling her and daring her to try again.

She gritted her teeth and flared her nostrils, psyching herself up for what had to happen.  “I.  Can.  Do this,” she chanted to herself, now seeing the bike as a living breathing thing … challenging her to try and take it under her control.

She pressed her lips together in concentration and twisted the handle a little, easing up on the clutch and holding her legs out stiffly to the side.  The bike pulled smoothly forward, only wavering the tiniest bit.  She turned the handles so she could stay in the parking lot and not kill any pedestrians, letting the slow speed take her around to point back towards the car where she was supposed to meet Candi. Her legs relaxed, and she pulled them in to rest on the small black rubber-covered pegs.

She smiled at her newly discovered skills, as she cruised confidently through the lot towards their meeting point at the Camry.  She shifted as smooth as silk and let out a whoop of joy over it.  For the first time in her life, she totally got why guys were so nuts over motorcycles.

Her joy was short-lived, however.  As she drew near the car, she looked up towards the store hoping to see Candi coming out.  Her friend was at the door now, the duffle bag full and on her back.  Everything seemed perfect until Sarah noticed who else was there.

The police officer who’d been harassing them in the copy shop was standing at her side, one hand resting on the butt of his gun and the other on the end of his nightstick.  “Oh, fuck me,” she whispered to herself. 
Now what the hell are we going to do?

Chapter Seven

Close Call

CANDI STOOD AT THE ENTRANCE to the grocery store in full-on, level-ten panic-mode.  Her whole body was shaking with nerves, and she had to keep coughing just to keep her throat open.  She refused to look at the cop who’d followed her out, knowing if she saw his suspicious eyes she’d probably start crying.  She was super close to bawling as it was, and he hadn’t done anything except stand in line with her and ask her a bunch of questions about what she’d been doing in town and where she lived.

“I’ll walk you to your car.  Can I carry that for you?” he asked, gesturing to the duffle bag she’d slung across her back.

“No, thanks.  I’m walking.  No car.”

“But I thought you said you were driving back home today.  You must have a car somewhere.”

“Yeah, we do.  But not here.  We walked here.  From where we’re staying.”

“Oh.  Where are you staying?  At a hotel?”

Candi breathed out a loud sigh.  “No.  Not at a hotel.”  She searched the lot for Sarah, but couldn’t see her.  There were too many cars blocking her view.  She could hear what sounded like a motorcycle somewhere, but she had no idea if it was Sarah out there or just someone else who couldn’t help her get out of this mess.

“So where are you staying then?”

Candi tried to think of a lie, but they just weren’t coming anymore.  She’d pulled all kinds of facts about San Francisco out of her butt to answer his earlier questions, garbage based on stuff she’d seen in movies, but she was totally tapped out now.  Her lying reservoir was dry.

She turned to face him, angry that he’d pushed her to this point. “What difference does it make?  I mean,
really?”

He stared at her, his head jerking back a little in surprise.  “No difference.  I was just curious.”

“Yeah, well, your
curiosity
is starting to feel like an interrogation.  Do you mind?”  Candi was shaking so bad her voice was coming out all funny.

He shifted his weight to rest on his right leg.  “No, I don’t mind.  But it seems you do.”

Candi frowned at him, channeling as much pissed-off-Sarah-Peterson vibe as she could into her body.  Her voice sounded stronger now.  “Yeah.  As a matter of fact, I
do
mind.  I’m allowed to walk around a town as a tourist and buy some stupid groceries without being harassed by local law enforcement, aren’t I?”

He nodded slowly.  “In most cases, yes.  But in some cases, no.”