Page 25 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“Glad you did. I’d have been stuck here for a hell of a long time.”

She eyes my bike and then the back of her truck. “I don’t think we can lift it. Can you leave it?”

“Hell no. You got anything we can use?”

“I just got the truck washed and vacuumed; I don’t have anything in it.”

“Damn.” I look around searching for anything we can makeshift to roll the bike on, even a slight rise I could back the truck to, but there’s nothing. “All right, we’ll have to run to a store and grab a tie down kit and a plank or something I can use to load it. I saw a super store a couple of miles back.”

“Do you want me to go while you stay with your bike?” she offers

“No way. I’m not sending you off to some half-deserted parking lot in the wee hours of the morning. I’ll push it behind some of these trees.”

“Suit yourself.”

I stash my bike, then climb into her truck; the leather seat creaks as my weight settles. “How was work?”

“It was all right. Slam packed, as it always is in December. But the tips are good, so I’m not complaining.”

“I didn’t realize the place stayed open so late.”

“On Saturday nights, the bar is open until four a.m.”

“That was hours ago.”

“I stayed to help Josh clean up. The floors were covered in beer.”

“I see. Seems you work a lot of hours there. What about your opera? Have you written anymore on it?”

“Haven’t had time, but I have been mulling over what you said about adding some conflict.” Her face lights up just talking about this passion. “I was thinking maybe the characters should come from two different worlds.” She shifts gears and glances over at my wide grin. “Do l sound crazy?”

“Not at all, babe. I love watching your eyes sparkle with excitement. Makes me content to see you so full of passion. I could spend my days trying to make you happy just to see that smile on your face.”

Her cheeks tinge light red, and knowing I’ve made her blush makes me grin even wider. I feel like we’re a couple of giddy teenagers.

She continues to tell me her ideas, and I listen, rapt by her ability to weave a story filled with so much emotion. I can tell this is more than a pipe dream. She really has the talent and skill to do this. She just needs her foot in the door.

It’s nice to just listen to her talk after the day I’ve had. All the tension in my shoulders slowly unwinds. She swings into a parking spot right at the front of the store, and we climb out.

After finding everything we need, and returning to get my motorcycle loaded and strapped in, it’s time to head to the clubhouse.

“So where am I taking you?” she asks.

“The Evil Dead clubhouse in San Jose. It’s about an hour south of here.”

“Oh.” I don’t miss the falter in her voice.

“No reason to be nervous, babe. We don’t bite. Unless you like it that way.”

Rolling her eyes, she regains her bravado. “I’m not nervous. I’ve just never been to a motorcycle club before.”

“Well, probably won’t be many people there. Not many hanging out on a Sunday morning, and especially not at the time we’re going to be rollin’ in. You’ll probably only see the other prospects like me.”

“Prospect?”

“Yeah, means we’re trying to become a member. We’ve got to prove ourselves first.”

“Oh, kinda like a pledge at a sorority.”

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