Page 16 of Red's Peril: Part 1

I know something else as well. However cautious I’m trying to be,I want to keep her.

Chapter Six

“Yeah, Mom.” Cheryl smiles into the phone. “All’s good.” She grimaces. “I know Joe’s not happy, but…” There’s a pause, then she’s back to grinning again. “Yeah, I know. He’ll get over it.”

I leave the room, taking my saddlebags out to my bike, looking up to the sky with a practiced eye, noting the darkening clouds above.Looks like we might have a wet ride today.Well, wet for me, I’ll make sure to lend Cheryl my waterproofs.

It wouldn’t hurt to put fewer miles on the clock today. Despite the hot soak, Cheryl’s ass is still sore. I can tell by the way she’s moving. But I do put some of her bow-leggedness down to how many times I couldn’t resist her last night.

Hearing footsteps behind me, I turn to face her. “Everything okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

I eye her for a moment. “Your mom’s the bomb, you know that?”

I’d been worried the first time she’d spoken to her mother that she’d have been pressured to return home. It wasn’t the case.

Cheryl laughs. “My mom’s an aging hippy. She was always a ‘follow your dreams’ type of girl. That’s how she ended up in our town with my dad. She met him at an agricultural fair and followed him home.”

I’m genuinely curious. “It work out?”

“Yeah.” She smiles at the memory. “They were really happy together.” Her face falls slightly. “Dad died a few years back. Mom stayed faithful to his memory. He was her one and only.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How old were you?” I lean back against my bike, folding my arms, wondering how it is we still know so little about each other.

“I was ten.” She shrugs. “He was a larger-than-life figure. Mom kept him alive for us both, never letting me forget him. She’s so fucking strong.” A look of admiration crosses her face.

It sounds like they were close. She must hate me for taking her daughter away. “Doesn’t she miss you?”

“Of course, she does. But she knows what it’s like to be swept off your feet. In her eyes, it’s my time now.”

I realise I’ve never asked. “How old are you, Cheryl?”

Another woman might have been coy and asked me to guess, but she gives it to me straight. “Twenty.”

A little younger than I thought, but old enough not to be tied to any apron strings. I’d been imagining a poor home life that she’d wanted to escape from, not probing as I didn’t want to open any wounds. But instead, it turns out, she’s a true kindred spirit and comes from the same stock.

She glances at what I’ve laid out on the seat of my bike. “What are those?”

“Waterproofs. Put them on, darlin’.”

Picking them up, she snorts. “They’re going to drown me.”

“Better that than get drowned by the rain.” I raise my eyebrows, then point to the sky.

“What are you going to wear?”

“I’ll be fine,” I tell her, optimistically.

Shrugging, she steps into the pants and pulls them up, bending down to roll them up a few times. Then she slips into the jacket and all but disappears. I help her sort herself out and do up the zip as she’s struggling to extract her hands from the too-long arms.

The material is thin, so I slip the hood up over her head, planting the skull cap on top of it. Once I’m satisfied she’ll survive whatever the elements throw at us, I step astride the bike. Like an expert, she gets on behind me, with only a slight groan as she does.

I take the predictable route out of the city, the interstate heading south. For the first hour it’s good riding, then, as I’d predicted, those clouds join forces together, and let loose on us humans below. When light rain turns heavy, then into sleet, I wonder what I’ve done to earn the gods’ vengeance.

My gloves, which should be waterproof, seem no match for what’s being thrown at us. Fixing the throttle, I alternate hands on the handlebars, but gradually both become numb. My body’s so wet, I’m shivering.

Despite her having the benefit of my wet-weather clothing, as Cheryl pushes herself closer behind me, I can feel her tension as if she too is frozen.

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