Page 23 of Ripper
She and I walked on over to my bike and I handed her my extra dome. She smiled at me, tucking her brown hair safely inside of it before slipping onto the seat. I felt her warm hands wrap around my torso, and I beamed.
“Hold on tight, Ronnie. You’re in for one hell of a ride.”
I took off down the bustling night streets of Mascid. There were partiers out trying to get into clubs, biker bars that were crawling with fresh meat and lone riders, but I was ready to take her to my favorite spot. We rode down to The Kettle,parking in the front lot, and I gazed up at the bright pink neon sign.
“Now, this place looks incredible,” said Ronnie, and I watched as her eyes lit up the closer we got to the door.
“Every newbie in town, old or new, needs to come here. I used to come here all the time as a kid, and while it may be a bit out of the way, it has the best damn food in town.”
I held the door open for her and a waitress approached us, leading us to a comfortable booth in the back where we slid in on opposite sides. The booths were a striking red color, the tables a bright cream, nothing too clinical looking. The menus read like a damn book, but I didn’t need it because I had the whole thing memorized cover-to-cover already.
“It’s like you read my mind. I haven’t eaten a thing since lunch,” she said.
I watched as she perused the menu for a few minutes, and we both decided on the hearty burgers, fries, and shakes that would make both of our nights. I felt my palms grow sweaty, my heart pounding loudly in my chest, and I tucked my feet near the table leg to keep it from shaking. Every time I glanced up at Ronnie, she quickly looked away. I caught the subtle flush of her cheeks as she tucked her hair behind her ear, probably feeling just as nervous as I was.
The waitress brought over a pitcher of water and Ronnie reached for it, tipping the half-full glass over, and it spilled right out onto my jeans.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Good aim there, Ronnie,” I teased.
Her cheeks were a glowing pink now that she realized where the water landed. I chuckled, helping her clean it up with the few napkins we had. My hand lightly brushed up against hers, and I felt the spark flicker across my skin. She was soft, her fingernails painted a soft pink, and she didn’t pull away. She eventually cleared her throat, resting her elbows on the diner table, trying to fixate on something else to calm her nerves. It felt good to know that I wasn’t the only nervous one. I watched as she grabbed a sugar packet, and tearing off the top, she tossed the contents right into her mouth. I stared at her, furrowing my eyebrow, and she let out a soft laugh.
“I used to do it all the time when I was a kid. Dad would bring me to places just like this, and I couldn’t start my meal until I’d downed at least one sugar packet,” she said.
“Oh, is that so?”
I slid the little basket with condiments, sweeteners, and sugar packets over to me. I took the little white one in my hands, ripping off the top and raising it like a beer to Ronnie, while she laughed.
“Cheers, sweet pea.”
I bit down hard on the sugar granules, feeling it coat my tongue, and I immediately had to wash it all down with some water.
“Oh, man. There are those that get their fix from a cold beer and then there’sthat.”
“What’s the matter, Ripper? Afraid of a little sugar?”
“Not at all,” I said, glancing up at her.
She bit down on her lip lightly and watching her only made me crave her more. I was so lost in thought I didn’t even see the waitress approach with our food.
“Your burgers and fries. Your shakes will be right out,’ she said.
“Thank you.”
The piping hot food looked incredible, and we both instantly went to town.
“This is amazing,” she said, reaching for another fry, dipping it into her ketchup.
“It’s always been that way, ever since I was a kid.”
“What was it like growing up here? I spent so much time here as a kid, but it’s like I barely remember any of it. Moving away really changed things for me, and at the time I never really thought I’d come back, but I’m glad I did,” she said.
“I didn’t have the greatest childhood. My mom was a coke addict and my dad was drunk off his ass most of the time, but at least he wasn’t violent. I took to the streets when I was only fourteen years old, and I definitely got wrapped up in some pretty bad shit. Though, I scraped together enough money to buy my first bike, and that day is still hands down one of the best days of my entire life.”
It felt good opening up to Ronnie in a way I really never did before. She was an attentive listener, and I could tell she really did care about all the shit I was telling her. I smiled warmly, finishing up the last of my shake.
“I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like, Ripper,” she said.
