Motorcycle Man
Page 58

We ate all of this in front of Tack’s huge, flat screen TV in the living room where I was treated to a marathon of Storage Wars. Seeing as I didn’t watch TV, I’d never heard of this program. But by the second episode I was hooked. I declared that I thought Brandi and Jarrod were “adorable” together which for some reason he didn’t explain made Rush laugh so hard I thought he would bust a gut. Rush might find that funny but I decided I was going to start dressing like Brandi. She always looked the shit. I also shared that Dave was my favorite “character” to which Tabby told me with grave seriousness, “But, Tyra, he’s the bad guy.”
I thought he was the guy who knew what he was doing and I liked his grin but what did I know?
Since the kids stayed up late, Tack and I went to bed before them. This I found uncomfortable and what made it more uncomfortable was Tack doing it like he often took women to bed with his kids around. Not to mention his kids acting like this was nothing out of the ordinary. Further, I found myself in the unusual mood of not being in the mood with Tack.
Kids, I discovered, were a wet blanket.
But when we hit his room, Tack made no moves on me.
He just said, “You get the bathroom first, babe. I gotta tell Rush something.”
He took off and I rooted through my bag. I was wearing a sky blue shelf-bra cami and a pair of mocha, drawstring, pajama short-shorts with sky-blue and grass green swirls on them, sitting cross-legged on his unmade bed when he returned.
It was then I found Tack’s nighttime routine included taking off his clothes and dropping them on the floor. Considering the thick layer of clothes on the floor, this wasn’t a surprise.
It was also then I found, when he climbed into bed with me, turned out the one lamp then tucked me in his side, Tack wasn’t in the mood either.
And last, I found that in his bed, we had different sides. Not that we had sides, as such, since, in our limited experience, we slept cuddled together. But in my bed I was on the right. In his, he positioned me on his left.
I lay cozied up to him in the dark for a while before he spoke.
“Dinner was good, Red.”
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“And I get you. Dave from Storage Wars is the man.”
I smiled into the dark. Tack must have felt my cheek move on his shoulder because his arm gave me a squeeze.
We fell silent.
Then I started, “Um…”
Then I stopped.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing,” I whispered.
“Um… what?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Nothing, Tack.”
“Start it, say it,” he ordered.
I sighed. Then I said it.
“The, uh… kids didn’t seem surprised you and I headed off to bed together.”
“They wouldn’t, seein’ as I called them and told them you were comin’ up to make dinner and you were spendin’ the night. Rush even went to get the food, darlin’.”
This was true.
“Is this a, uh, normal occurrence?”
“It ain’t normal. It also ain’t out of the ordinary.”
Damn.
Honesty was usually good except at times like these.
“Though, none of them made my kids dinner,” Tack continued then concluded, “Or sat around and watched TV with them.”
This was something but it didn’t make me feel a whole lot better.
Tack’s arm tightened and he pulled me on him and up so we were chest to chest and face to face in the dark.
“I ain’t no choirboy,” he said quietly.
“I know that,” I said quietly back.
I knew it but still, I didn’t like this aspect of it.
“Kids were younger, no way. Women up here only when they were at their Mom’s. They got older, way of the world.”
Hmm. I might disagree with that if they were my flesh and blood.
Tack continued, “That said, babe, none of those bitches got here on the back of my bike either.”
“Is this a significant distinction?” I enquired.
“Yep.”
“Do they understand that?”
“Yep.”
“Are you going to explain it to me seeing as I don’t?” I asked.
Tack’s chuckle rumbled all around me and through me which sounded and felt nice.
When he stopped chuckling, he explained.
“Some bikers have a code about who they put on the backs of their bikes and when. Rally, party, road trip, could be whoever you pick up. Your wheels are takin’ you home, for me, for Chaos, only the old lady. A woman comes up here, she has her own ride. That way, I’m done, she can go. You gotta wait for me to take you where you need to be. This means, unless I take you, you aren’t goin’ anywhere.”
I’m done, she can go.
There was a lot there to get angry about so I decided to avoid it.
All of it.
“I’m thinking, handsome, it might be good to end the biker lesson now seeing as this particular one might piss me off.”
“Not surprised, babe, but we had a good run.”
“Pardon?”
“Took you to work, brought you to my house, you cooked, we ate, we watched TV, all good. No fights. No backtalk. All day. But all good things come to an end.”
It was at this point I was glaring at him through the dark.
“I’m thinking now, handsome, it might be good for you to stop talking altogether seeing as everything you’re saying might piss me off.”
“Sound of it, babe, no ‘might’ about you getting pissed. You just are.”
At that, my glare became a stare because not only did he sound like he was amused, I could see the white flash of his smile in the dark.
But to confirm, I asked, “Are you amused?”
“Fuck yeah.
I sought further confirmation. “You’re amused that I’m pissed.”
His other arm stole around me and he gave me a squeeze on his repeated, “Fuck yeah.”
It was then, light dawned.
“You like it,” I said softly.
“Definitely.”
“You like me pissed off?”
“No. I like not knowin’ what to expect. I like that even though you say I scare you, you are not scared of me. The way you face off against me, you’re not scared. Not one f**kin’ bit. I like that you don’t hesitate to speak your mind. I like that you don’t hide your emotions. I like that when you get pissed, you just do and let it all hang out. You don’t store up that shit and let it explode all over the f**kin’ place when I least expect it. So, yeah. I like it. Definitely.”