Page 9 of Kodiak

“Well, thanks for being willing to throw down for me to keep my honor intact,” he smiles at me, lighting up the room. Damn, now I’m quoting lines from my books. How cliche of me.

“It would’ve been the right thing to do,” I state, taking a slow sip of my fruity, mixed drink. I don’t mind if it’s watered down, it’ll make it easier to keep my wits about me.

Loose lips is not something I’m comfortable with asserting at this moment. I’ve already dug a few skeletons out of my closet and revealed things about myself—more than I’m comfortable with, I’m not sure the rest of my demons are ready to be exposed yet.

“Not everyone sees things that way,” he corrects me. “I’ve seen some shit while on the road that you wouldn’t even begin to think was humanly possible. When men or women are predators, sexual or otherwise, they’ll do whatever they feel is necessary to win the hand life’s cards have dealt them.”

“I may not have seen things such as that in person, but I’ve watched the news and I’m a true crime junkie. I know how vile some people can be when they’re not living a traditional lifestyle,” I explain.

“Traditional,” he snickers. “You mean a civilian life full of sunshine and rainbows? Is that what you consider traditional?”

“I’m not Dorothy, and I don’t live in the kingdom of Oz. I don’t envision a perfect life for myself full of yellow brick roads and flying monkeys. As a matter of fact, my fantasy life is nothing like what you’d believe it to be,” I say, righting his wrong assessment of me.

“Oh, yeah? Wanna clue me into what your fantasy life would be like… notwithstanding munchkins, cowardly lions, and tin men, Luna?”

Feeling bold, I lift my finger up and run it down the cool, buttery soft leather of his cut. I tap it on his president badge and lethis road name slip free from my tongue, “Kodiak. It suits you, doesn’t it, Marcum? Are you wild and grizzlied?”

“That’s what they say,” he tells me, leaning in until we’re close enough that we could share the same breath. “I’m curious, however. What isyourimpression of me, Luna Moon?”

“That’s cheating, Mr. President. I asked you a question first,” I remind him, looking upward until our eyes connect. “Are you wild, Marcum?”

“Very,” he answers, his voice husky and hoarse. The mixture of cigarettes and beer wafts from him, and wouldn’t you know it, it seems to be an aphrodisiac for me.

“I’ve never been wild,” I admit, leaning back against the backrest of the chair. “I’ve always been cautious. I was too afraid of letting my parents down. The worst thing I could hear from them was the word disappointment when it pertains to me. After losing Lana, I felt like I had to be perfect to make up for them losing one of their children.”

“You’re an adult now, though,” he responds. “You shouldn’t set the bar so high for yourself. It’s too far to fall if you slip and make a mistake.”

A humorless giggle escapes me. My parents, they all but forgot they had a kid once I graduated high school. They paid for my college tuition upfront and hit the road. Last I heard, they were doing some global jumping.

I received a postcard six months ago saying hi from France. That’s it, just hi, not this is how you can reach us nor we miss you and wish you were here. Just a simple word, hi. I guess I should be happy that they remembered to sign the damn thing.

Well, my mom signed it for both of them with the words mom and dad, so at least they were thoughtful enough to remember she birthed me.

“That laugh says more than any words could. They abandon you, Luna?”

“The very second my feet crossed that stage at graduation,” I admittedly confess. “They paid my tuition the first year then had their accountant pay the tab for the next three years. I never tried to go for anything higher than basic education in English.”

“Why’s that?” he asks, canting his head to the side.

“Because while my folks are out scouting the world, they decided to do it electronically free. Every once in a while they contact their bookkeeper but other than that, nobody ever hears a peep from them. Dad sold his shares in the law firm, and my mom cashed in all of their CDs and they never looked back. Didn’t even make an effort to attend my college graduation.”

“That sucks,” he says in commiseration.

“That it does,” I say in reflection. It seems to be the going theme for my life as an adult.

“So then, if they’re no longer around to state that they're disappointed in you, what’s holding you back?” His question draws me up short in response. What is holding me back? I don’t have a right or wrong answer for him.

“I don’t know,” I reply. “I suppose nothing should, huh?”

“I’m thinking it’s time you start living your life for you, my moon. If anything you do disappoints someone, then that’s on them, not you. Come on, Luna. Let’s go be wild and disorderly… together.”

“How?” I ask, suddenly excited for whatever adventure he has in mind.

“Ever been on the back of a motorcycle before?” he questions.

“No. But I want to.” Excitement radiates through me. I write about feeling the wind in your hair, but I’ve never experienced it for myself.

“Well, come on then. Let’s go see where the road takes us,” he suggests, standing up from his seat, tipping back his beer and swallowing it in one gulp. Twisting his torso, he dumps the empty bottle in the trash can, then with life blazing in his eyes, he holds his hand out to me. Challenging me?

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