Loving Me, Trusting You(29)

“Don't try to sell me something,” I tell the man in the suit, the one that doesn't even look like he's ever climbed onto a damn bike. Madre mia, this is not going to be easy. “I'm walking out of here with something that's ready to ride. I want the keys, today, right now.” The man opens his mouth to speak and I cut him off with a raised hand, rings glittering in the late afternoon light. He pauses and nods his head, ever the salesman, trying his best to smile at me.

“Certainly. Just let me know if you'd like to take something for a test drive.” He backs away slowly, like we might be dangerous, might be there just to whoop his ass and carve our names into his backside, and turns away to busy himself at the counter, eyes flicking up every now and then to take us in.

“Back country piece of shit,” Gaine mumbles, tucking his hands into his front pockets and glancing around with a slight quirk of disdain playing about his lips. “Bet he doesn't know a Kawasaki from a Harley.” I try not to smile, but I do anyway and spin on my heel, so Gaine can't see. No point in getting his hopes up. He's fun to be around, sure, but that's because he's young and stupid, and there are no strings attached. I imagine that if I fell onto his lure, I'd drown in that love. A pretty death, sure, but a death nonetheless, a sacrifice of the self for the us. I'm not ready for that yet. Maybe not ever. Yeah, probably not f*cking ever.

“Jesus friggin' Christ,” I murmur as I wind through the gleaming rows of metal and paint, the decorative toys to be parked in garages and cooed over, the ones people like to drive to the supermarket and then right back home for a bubble bath. These babies never get to stretch their wings, never get to wear a badge of pride, covered in slight scratches and dings, gifts from the open road. It's a damn shame. “This isn't going to be easy.”

“Can't imagine that it will be,” Gaine says, glancing over his shoulder and pulling my gaze along with him. Amy's straddling a Suzuki Inazuma and feelin' it up like they're an item. Her blue eyes glitter with the thrill of freedom, sparkling with the knowledge that she is her own boss out here, that the rules of the road are guidelines and that she's welcome to leave whenever she pleases. I stare at her for a moment, take her in, and wrap my hatred around me. She stole Austin away. I scowl and turn away, letting myself revel in an emotion that's become much more comfortable to me than simple amusement. I'm not saying that's a good thing; that's just the way it is.

“She's going to fit in a lot better than even I thought,” Gaine says, and I wonder if sometimes he thinks about what's coming out of his damn mouth. I flick hair over my shoulder and stomp down the aisles, the heels of my boots clicking across the over waxed linoleum floor. The thing sparkles so damn much, my eyes are starting to flicker with sun spots. And don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of air conditioning but Lord in Heaven, it must be sixty f*cking degrees in here.

I ignore my friend, the one who's desperate to be so much more and keep moving, fingers sliding across gleaming chrome and unblemished leather, wondering if I'm going to be able to find anything here that'll let me salvage some of my dignity.

Gaine follows close behind me, a heated presence in all of this sterile frigidity. It's like a freaking museum in here. I just want to buy a damn bike, not come in my panties at the looks of some pretty statues. I want something that's functional. Is that too much to ask? I keep moving and Gaine stays on my heels. I swear, I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck, his fingers hovering over my hips. When I pause to glare back at him, he's not quite as close as I think. My imagination then. I haven't been getting laid enough lately. I turn back around and keep walking, through another doorway and into the next room. I can't see Amy and her friend anymore, but I can hear their soft voices drifting through the quiet building, bouncing off the glass and teasing my ears with girlish whispers. So na?ve. So f*cking na?ve. I almost envy them. Almost. Naivety is great and all, a soft place to lie your head, but that's not the issue. The issue is when reality comes crashing down, tearing you apart and ripping your innocence away, leaving you with nothing but violently shattered pieces. I pause next to a Kawasaki and rest my hand on the seat.

My mind is spinning away, dragging me back to my memories, blinding me with pain and humiliation, tainting me with betrayal. I shut it down before it even gets a chance to start and jump when Gaine lays his fingers on my upper arm, brushing the whorls of his fingertips across my skin.

“You alright?” he whispers, voice soft, understanding. I've told him my story before, my whole story. Don't know why I did it. I must've been muy loca, but I spilled my shit, just drenched him with it, and now I'm paying for it with gentle looks and tender caresses. Might seem like a good thing to some people, but to me, it's dangerous as hell. I pull away and roll my shoulders into a shrug.

“Just help me find a Goddamn motorcycle,” I snap at him, taking out my frustration on the one person who really doesn't deserve any of my shit, but who takes it anyway. Willingly even. He follows close behind me and doesn't let up as I push past a curtain and into the smallest of all three showrooms. The floor in here isn't linoleum, just cement, and it's splattered with oil and droplets of discarded paint. In here rests the skeletons of the unfortunate, bikes that didn't make the cut. Most are just here for parts, sitting around in neat rows, missing vital organs and grinning in grimy darkness. I stare them all down, letting my gaze scan along the waste until I come across another row in the back, against the wall. Maybe I'm not supposed to be in here, but I'll be damned if I leave this place without seeing everything there is to see. Besides, if they didn't want customers wandering into the service area, they should've locked the damn door.