Page 23 of Absolute Valor

When he still doesn’t take the money, “Here, Chase. Take your money.”

He finally looked at the cash in my hand, and then to me, “Keep it, Sweetness. Consider it a handling fee.” Stepping around me, he climbed back on his bike.

Looking around, everyone is ignoring the conversation we’re having. I know he’s trying to be nice, but it’s unwanted and making me uncomfortable. I bite back the words I want to scream at him, demanding he take this money back, when an idea pops into my head. While it would take a fair amount of courage, the satisfaction of what I can accomplish will be worth the embarrassment I’m about to feel. Spinning around, I walked toward the bike, determination in every step. I placed my jacket and helmet back on, working as fast as possible, so as not to hold anyone up. Chase had his hand out for me once again, but this time I take it with the left instead of my right. He clasps my fingers tightly, just as I expect him to. Instead of stepping on the running board, I wrapped my fingers tight around his, taking my right hand, and more importantly the money, and shoved it as fast as I could down the front of his pants.

“Motherfucker,” echoed in my headset as I used my own momentum to jump on the back of the bike. I know it was wrong, but oh my Lord it felt good to go against a man for once.

The highway was a flutter of activity, cars were being routed to the extreme left lane, while exists and on ramps were blocked. As we reached a stretch of highway north of Savannah, I heard a number of beeps in my ear followed by the music I had chosen, fading until it was silent. “Sweetness, the next time you want to stick your hand in my pants, let’s not do it with my parents standing in the same parking lot, okay?” My music came back on, embarrassment reared its ugly head, bringing along its two friends regret and tears. I had been wrong, my revenge on him had not been worth feeling this way.

For the next fifteen minutes, I concentrated on the patch of skin between his helmet and the top of his collar. Several lines of his tattoo dived in and out of the space, giving no clue to the art his shirt covered. I made sure the mute button was engaged and the sun shield pulled down over my face before I let the tears flow. Years of living with Lucas had taught me how to cry in silence, allowing the hurt to flow with the tears, leaving me cold and alone.

Hearing the beeps again, I cringe at what he would have to say next, but the voice in my helmet belongs to Claire. “Hey girl, you okay over there?”

I swallowed hard, and I mean as hard as I could, my crying spell far from over. Turning to my left, I see Dylan’s bike pulled along side. “Y-yes, I’m okay. Just enjoying the ride.” My voice was shaky; even I could hear the quivering.

Chase turned to look at Dylan who shook his head and made several hand gestures. “You haven’t moved in quite a while, you had me worried.” It was both strange and completely cool to see Claire, and also hear her while we screamed down the road. I marveled at her confidence, how she was able to overlook the way Dylan used to be, and love him with her whole heart now.

“Just listening to music, guess I got caught up in the lyrics.” I fake laughed, knowing something was up when Chase started moving his head from side to side and the engine of the bike downshifted.

“Dylan says we’re stopping for lunch up ahead.”

I was a master at silent crying, able to let the tears fall into silent puddles on my pillow or sleeve. Yet, I was completely helpless to the blotchiness my cheeks and eyes took on as a result. If the wind was cool enough, perhaps it would decrease the redness. I flipped up the shield, enough to let a steady stream of air into my helmet, the whistling of the rapidly filling space giving me a headache.

Pulling off the interstate, I saw several large white tents stood erect in a massive parking lot. I felt a tapping at my shin by Chase, followed by a hard squeeze, and then it was gone. Dean pulled into the lot directly behind the Georgia State Patrol, as the parking attendants assisted the line of bikes to park in an organized manner.

I jumped down the second the engine shut off, having pulled the zipper of my jacket and helmet strap the second it was safe. Finding the first attendant I could, I politely asked where the bathrooms were located. With a direction in mind, I took off in a run, desperate to find a private space where I could get myself together. I had a feeling my rushing would appear as if I needed to go to the bathroom really bad. I didn’t care, let them laugh, I was used to being a source of entertainment.

Three rows of trailer style portable bathrooms bordered the tree line. Sprinting up the stairs of the first one I came to, I pulled the door open as if I really was about to pee my pants. Inside was air-conditioned and nicer than most bathrooms found in some regular houses. Six closed door stalls awaited me as I grabbed a washcloth from the counter, ran it under the cold water, and then locked the door behind me.

I hated crying, the entire process was pointless, but as I sat on the closed seat of the toilet, a wet washcloth draped over my eyes and face, I leaned my head back and let it happen. I didn’t hide the sobs as they left my chest, or try to cover up the unmistakable sound they bring out of you. I listened as other ladies filled the trailer, sharing stories of various things happening outside. According to several, Dean and Priscilla had arranged for lunch. Apparently I had missed the smell of the pit barbeques swirling in the air.

“She looks at him one more time and I’m gonna snatch her baldheaded.” The voice belonged to an angry and frustrated woman, she had to be in her twenties. “I don’t care if I never get invited to another Morgan event, I ain’t gotta put up with some redheaded harlot batting her eyes at my boyfriend.”

Gossip can be dangerous, and sobering. A quick cure to the crying jag I had been partaking in. “Jessie, why are you so mad? Aiden is a handsome guy and girls are gonna look at him. Instead of threatening bodily harm to some girl he cares nothing about, you should be doing everything you can to make him happy to be with you.”

I tuned out the rest of what they had to say, my feeling of utter stupidity overshadowing the earlier embarrassment. Chase Morgan may be a skilled Marine, full of knowledge and experience, but he was still just a man. One who had reacted to something I did. It was time to quit living my life in the shadow of men.

The rumors were right, the smell of the pit was mouthwatering and waiting to greet me, along with a stern looking Priscilla Morgan. Her beauty and charm were like the tricks they use during a scary movie; building up the music and darkness until you piss your pants in fear only to have the danger nonexistent.

“Audrey, what did my son do?” Hearing the firmness and disappointment in her voice had me cringing. “Nothing, why do you ask?” I tossed back at her, an attempt to turn this off me.

“Then why the camp out in the bathroom? You bolted over here as if the devil himself was chasing you.” Lainie and Claire took notice of the two of us standing there and flanked Priscilla on each side.

“Well, I didn’t use the bathroom back in Charleston.” I started.

“And you didn’t buy anything to drink either.” She countered with a raised eyebrow.

“I may not have used Chase’s money to purchase a drink, but I did take advantage of the water fountain they had next to the bathroom.”

All three burst into laughter, leaning on one another in an attempt to hold each other up. “Oh man, you’ve got Chase about to pull his hair out ‘cause Dylan told him you were crying.” Lainie chimed in, wiping her eyes of the running mascara. “He’s been on the phone trying to find a florist who will deliver to an open parking lot.” Priscilla laughed harder, her tears of joy not touching the makeup she wore so well.

“Why?” I asked flatly.

Just as the conversation in the bathroom had given me clarity, my question did the same for the laughing trio. “Oh, Audrey. My boys have been raised by two southern gentlemen, who were schooled in the belief, if your girl is crying, it’s usually your fault. He has a need to fix what he did, or at least what he thinks he did.”

Shaking my head in disbelief, a lie developed on my tongue. “I wasn’t crying, the sun is high in the sky and combined with the humidity and the music, I may have drifted off to sleep. I drank a fair amount of water at the last stop and I needed to use the ladies room. Since it’s hotter than a two-dollar pistol out here, I stayed in the air-conditioning to get cooled off. So can somebody tell him flowers are for wedding and funerals and since neither is going on out here, put his phone away and let’s eat? ”

Music blared from a stage at the end of the lot. A band had set up in the time I took to cool off and get myself together. Weaving through the crowd, I spotted the four Morgan men at the edge of a tent, each with a drink in hand except for Chase. His arms were crossed against his chest as he looked blankly into the crowd, nodding his head to whatever Austin was saying.

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