Page 15 of Dare You to Run
“Sir, I can guarantee you that I will have absolutely no problems with keeping away from your daughter. I don’t mean to be rude or disrespectful, but your daughter is not someone who interests me. No offense, sir. She’s just quite young and in addition to that, I don’t date clients…in any capacity.”
“That is exactly what I like to hear. And you said your friend, Kinley-”
“Kinsley, sir.”
“Right. Kinsley. Is she a good person?” This man is going to worry himself to an ulcer.
“The best. She and Dagen have already made fast friends. I promise you, you will have nothing to worry about.”
With a big sigh he says, “Thank you. I know this seems a little extreme, but it’s a parents job to worry about their children. It’s just how it is.”
I wouldn’t know, because aside from Malik and Danté and Miss Shirley later in my teen years, I’ve never had anyone who gives two shits about me.
“I understand, sir. And this is the number you can reach me at any time. For anything. I assure you that your car and most importantly, your daughter, are safe.”
I can’t guarantee my safety, because if he somehow manages to climb into my head and see the thoughts about his daughter running rampant in there, I’ll be a dead man.And a man like me wouldn’t got to Heaven. I’d burn in the pits of hell.
SIX
We move upa long driveway lined with palm trees and oleander bushes, in full bloom and bright pink. The sun is starting to set, lighting up the sky with pinks and oranges and light purples. As we draw closer, a large modern style home greets us.
It has straight lines and is made of a light colored stucco and some type of stone in the same neutral colors. Large windows line the outside and landscape lighting turns on, illuminating the lush foliage.
On the left side of the house sits a four car garage with doors that look more like frosted window panes than any garage door I’ve seen. And the driveway isn’t a regular slab of concrete or gravel. Bright green grass peeks between slabs in a neat and precise pattern, making it look more like a gameboard than a driveway.
“Holy shit, Kinsley. Your home is gorgeous,” I exclaim, my eyes still taking in all of the details.
“Oh honey, this isn’t my place. This is Henny’s house.” I’m sure the shock on my face says more than my words could. “See, I shouldn’t really say this, but since we’re best friends now, I cantell you. Henny and his brothers –adopted, not birth– developed this protective gear for bike riders that can send a signal to EMS if an accident occurs. It monitors heart rate and breathing. Those boys are damn smart and spent years creating it. Each one lending a skill to come up with a million dollar product. Well, it was more like a twenty million dollar project.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I tell her.
“I will not. It’s the God honest truth. They sold forty-nine percent of their company to a speed bike company and control the majority. They invested in a bunch of different stuff here in Cattywump Bay. They all co-own the garage and the bar, and also invested in a few restaurants. But they mostly stay silent on those. They also donated money to a charity that helps troubled youth in foster care. Not a lot of people know about it because they like to keep up the façade that they’re asshole deviants.” My jaw drops and I stare at her as the truck comes to a stop, and she shifts it into park. “Oh yeah. Don’t let that surly attitude fool you. Hendrix and Malik and Danté grew up in foster care and created their own family. Now those boys have more money than they know what to do with.”
My face grows hot and my teeth clench. “And that asshole had the nerve to call me a spoiled daddy’s girl? Meanwhile he’s sitting on a throne of gold amongst his millions of dollars. Does he have a room with rubies and diamonds?”
I push the door open and jump down from the truck. Reaching behind the seat I grab some of my bags from today’s shopping trip, and Kinsley grabs the others.
“No, no. Nothing like that. His secret room holds gold bars.” I freeze and look at her from the other side of the truck, the door still gripped in my hand. “I’m kidding. He splurges on his bikes, and that’s about it. All three of them do. That big ole bike sittin’ behind Miss Shirley at the shop? That’s Henny’s pride and joy. I’m sure it’s covered by a velvet cloth in that garage.”
She slams her truck door closed and I do the same and follow her towards the garage. It’s then that I notice a small breezeway between the house and the garage that was hidden behind large oleander bushes with bright pink buds.
A loud turr of an engine pulls my attention away from following Kinsley, and I turn around to see a bright blue and green bike speeding up the driveway. I assume it’s Hendrix on the bike as it’s the exact bike that is on the wall in his shop and the one Kinsley mentioned as being his pride and joy.
I watch him draw nearer, the setting sun shining off of his black helmet and his body clad in a black jacket with bright green piping and the letters DBI on the chest, outlined in the same green. The jeans he wore earlier, the ones I noticed fit his ass so beautifully, are still on as well as his black boots. I watch his hands work to downshift as he slows down, quieting the engine.
He comes to a full stop in front of his garage doors and flips the kickstand before turning his bike off. Instead of getting off he simply sits there, pulling his gloves off one finger at a time. He places them on the bike when they’re off and then leans forward, helmet and jacket still in place.
I swallow and look back at Kinsley who catches my eye and simply shrugs. It seems as if he’s trying to intimidate me in some way, so I turn to face him completely and cross my arms over my chest. Well, I try to cross my arms but I have bags hanging from my wrists so I don’t do it very successfully.
Neither of us budge as we stand in this silent stare-off, waiting for the other to break. And why are we even doing this? Shouldn’t he be welcoming me to his home? Inviting me in for a tour? But instead, he just sits there with a chip on his shoulder and an arrogant look on his face. I assume it’s arrogant because that’s the way he looked when his helmet was off, so I can only guess it’s the same with his helmet on.
I exhale and decide to be the bigger person and greet him.
“Hello Hendrix. Thank you for letting me stay here with you while you fix my vehicle. I promise to stay out of your way, as I plan to work on school stuff and simply wait until you are finished.” I let my hands drop to my side with the bag still hanging from my wrists and hands.
His head moves up and down the length of my body, from my sneaker covered feet to my ponytail that sways on my head. He slowly pulls the helmet from his head and as much as I want to punch his stupid face –because yes, the look is that of arrogance– I also want to kiss the damn thing.
His eyes are piercing blue and his lips are full and pink. Sweat beads along his hairline, and he pushes back the short, blonde strands. His eyes narrow and focus in on my bags then on my face.
