Page 18 of Ripper
“This is where some lone bikers and ally clubs get together to blow off some steam. When we’re not drinking down at the Tavern, we’re usually here testing out our wheels. It’s a shame the guys aren’t here, but you’ll meet ’em soon, I’m sure. You down for a race?”
“I didn’t bring my bike. Besides, I’m not sure I can go up against these guys,” I said, nervously.
Ripper placed his hand on my shoulder, turning me around so I could face the long stretch of desert road with a few bikers lined up, revving their engines. Some of them were riding alone, and others with their ladies clutching them tightly. There was a blonde standing in the middle with her jean shorts and flag, ready to start. I smiled, feeling the adrenaline coursing through me, knowing this was going to be one hell of a ride.
“Ah, so I’m here as your good luck charm, aren’t I?”
“You sure are,” he said, with a smirk.
“Then you can count me in.”
He outstretched his hand, and I took it, following his lead to where he’d left his bike. It looked brand new under the single porch light over the bar door, and the headlights that looked like they were spread out for miles. My heart started to beat loudly in my chest. I saw bikers at the bar trading their beers for big wads of cash as the bets rolled in.
“All right, Ripper! You’re up!” shouted one of the bikers behind us.
“You ready, sweet pea? I’m gonna need my good luck charm holding on real tight.”
“You betcha,” I said, with a wink.
I watched as four other bikers took their places. Two of them were handing their ladies their helmets, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Ripper doing the same. Engines started revving, roaring, and popping. I grabbed onto Ripper’s torso for dear life knowing this was probably going to be unlike anything I’d experienced before, but I was ready. I was ready to feel what he felt when he was out on the open road.
The woman with her light-wash jean shorts and red flag took her place in the middle of the sandy stretch of road. The countdown began.
Three.
Two.
One.
We were off. Ripper took the lead, holding his spot at the head of the pack, but he fell back for a moment while everyone else caught up. He let them get cocky. He let them think they were going to come out on top, and as we approached the ribbon at the very end of the road, he floored it.
I could feel the front wheel of his bike start to lift, even with the pressure from the both of us on it. We were practically flying at a speed I could never imagine going on my own. I screamed loudly, cheering for him, digging my nails into his jacket while he crossed the finish line with one last push. The cheers erupted, and I glanced behind me for a moment to see the rest of the riders pulling in. Ripper and I hopped off the bike, removing our helmets while everyone raised their beer bottles at us.
I tried my best to keep my knees from buckling and to calm my shaky fingers, but before I could think again, Ripper glanced down at my lips, lifted my chin, and pulled me in for a kiss. My body erupted with the kind of fire that had never burned quite so brightly before. I melted into the taste of him, the scent of his cologne, the sweat that dripped from his forehead. He pulled me in close, his lips pressing up against mine, and I ran my fingers through his hair. He pulled away for a moment, looking me right in the eyes.
“You’re one hell of a good luck charm, sweet pea,” he whispered.
I smiled until my cheeks hurt, looking up at the man I was undoubtedly falling for, and I basked in the feeling of him. I relished in the thought that I’d found something I’d never quite had before. He was the adventure I’d been looking for, and I wanted to explore every inch of him.
***
I just finished an oil change on a clean hunk of American muscle, giving it one last check before marking it good to be picked up. I headed over to the small mini fridge near Uncle Axle’s office to grab myself a bottle of water, and I downed it all in one go. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, feeling my hair begin to stick to the back of my neck. The place was starting to cool down, and Uncle Axle had the rest of his employees take an early lunch.
“You finished with the Pontiac?” he asked.
“All done.”
“Go on, have lunch. When you’re done, we can finish up this one together,” said Uncle Axle, tapping the hood of the Mustang in front of him.
“You got it.”
I headed into his office where I stashed my purse and my lunchbox, taking out the sandwich I packed for myself that morning. This place was the only area on the entire lot that had air conditioning, and any moment I could spend in here was a blessing. I ate my sandwich quickly, sipping on the juice in the glass bottle that I’d packed with it. Right as I was wrapping up, Uncle Axle came in, and I could see that he was in a rush.
“Hey, Ronnie, I completely forgot that I was supposed to go pick up the parts today. Think you can watch the shop for me until I get back?”
“Of course. Are you sure you don’t want me to go get them?”
“Nah, I gotta sign for ’em. It was a big order. Thanks.”
