Motorcycle Man
Page 15

So I said softly, “That sucks, Tack. I’m sorry that happened and I’m sorry she’s still messing with your life.”
“Better mine than yours,” he muttered and that was a good response too.
“It still sucks,” I stated and his eyes caught mine.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “What sucks worse is in her mission to make me miserable she drags my kids into it. No hesitation. Now that sucks.”
I tipped my head to the side to communicate my agreement then I looked down at my plate and took a bite of pizza.
Then I heard him order, “Fire up the TV, Red,” and my eyes swiftly moved back to his.
“Pardon?”
“Turn on the TV,” he semi-repeated.
I stared at him then turned my head to look at my TV then I looked back at him.
“I don’t have TV.”
His brows knitted, his eyes went to the TV then came back to me.
Then he asked, “So what’s in the corner? A piece of modern art?”
I smiled at him because he was being kind of funny and answered, “No, I mean, I don’t have cable and I only get one channel, PBS, and it comes in fuzzy.”
He studied me then slowly asked, “You don’t have cable?”
“I don’t watch TV,” I told him.
“You don’t watch TV,” he repeated.
“No. I only use the TV to watch movies.”
“You don’t watch TV,” he said again.
“No, I don’t watch TV.”
“You drink tea, do yoga and don’t watch TV,” he stated.
“Yep,” I answered.
“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head, a small smile playing at his mouth then he ordered, “Then fire up a movie.”
“Pardon?”
“You got movies?”
“Yes.”
“Fire one up.”
This was not good and the reason it was not good was because this was good. I didn’t want to admit it but I was enjoying this. The beer tasted good, the pizza tasted great and Tack being funny, honest and forthcoming was even better.
I was in trouble.
“Tack –” I started.
“Fire up a movie, Red.”
“I –”
He leaned into me and I leaned back but his torso was longer so his face got in mine. “Fire up a movie.”
I looked into his eyes. They were really, really blue.
Oh hell.
Then without my permission my mouth formed the words, “What do you want to watch?”
Tack leaned slightly back. “Your choice. Put in your favorite movie.”
I stared into his eyes. Then I informed him, “I don’t think you’ll like my favorite movie.”
“Do they speak English in it?”
I couldn’t help it, I smiled again. Then I answered, “Yes.”
“Then fire it up.”
I sighed, made my stupid, stupid, stupid decision and murmured, “Oh, all right,” then uncrossed my legs, put my plate down on the table and went to my TV. I opened the cabinet under it and sorted through my DVDs, found what I was looking for and “fired it up”.
I unearthed my remote that I hid in a drawer in an end table, resumed my seat next to Tack, grabbed my plate and sat back, eyes pinned to the TV and started the movie.
Fifteen minutes later, Tack muttered, “Jesus, Red, what is this?”
“The Color Purple,” I answered, not looking at him.
He said no more and I didn’t either. I finished my pizza, finished my beer and started another one and, as usual, got lost in one of the most devastating, most beautiful movies of all time. That was, I got lost in the movie until I started crying. When I started crying, I became acutely aware of Tack’s presence. I didn’t want Tack to see or hear me crying so I pressed my lips together and tried to breathe steady in an effort to control my tears as I kept my eyes glued to the screen.
This didn’t work and I knew it didn’t when I suddenly felt his fingers at my chin and he forced my face in his direction. I tried not to catch his eyes but this was difficult because I liked the way they roamed my face with that warm look in them. Then as suddenly as his fingers took hold of my chin, they let it go, his arm went around my shoulders, he pulled me into his side and again lifted his feet to put on the coffee table. He slouched, taking me into his slouch so I had no choice but to slouch with him. I did actually have a choice but I told myself I didn’t and lifted my legs to rest my heels against the armrest as my side and back settled into his side and my head settled on his shoulder.
I knew I shouldn’t lie like that. I knew it but I liked it. His body was warm and hard, his arm strong and the movie inspired a variety of deep emotions. It was good to have a warm, hard, strong body close when watching it. I’d never done it but I liked it so I did it.
When the credits rolled, I wiped the new tears from my face, twisted in his arm, placed my hand lightly on his chest and tipped my head back to look at him to see he was already looking down at me.
“What did you think?” I whispered.
“She shoulda cut his throat with the razor,” Tack replied and I grinned.
Definitely scary biker dude.
Then I said, “She didn’t have that in her.”
“Right,” he muttered.
“And if she did, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to learn how to be a better person and find absolution.”
Tack stared at me intently for a few beats. Then he repeated quietly, “Right.”
“So did you like it?” I pressed.
“Not really a movie you like, Red,” he answered.
“I think it’s beautiful,” I whispered.
“Not sure you understand the concept of beauty, darlin’.”
“Truth, honesty, perseverance, strength, love of all kinds and forgiveness are all beautiful, Tack. The most beautiful stories ever told are the most difficult to take.”
For a few more beats he again stared at me intently then he said, this time on a whisper, “Right,” and his eyes didn’t release mine.
I liked him looking at me like that. I liked him being like this. I liked pizza, beer and sad movies with an easy-to-be-with Tack. This was what I thought I’d found a week ago and here it was, in my living room.
God, what did I do now?
“You got any movies that don’t make you cry?” Tack asked and I blinked up at him.
“Yeah,” I answered.
He shifted me off him, lifted his legs off the coffee table, got up and went to my TV. He ejected the DVD, crouched in front of the cabinet and then dug through it, pulling out DVDs at random and totally ruining the alphabetical organization of my films. Then he opened a case, slid in another DVD and came back to the couch. He grabbed the remote from the end table and then he settled in again.