ChapterOne
Prudence
“Your music sucks.”
I’m taken aback by the words that just came out of a stranger. A complete and utter stranger.
“Told you,” my best friend mutters as she zips past me on her bicycle and keeps heading on down the bike trail.
Traitor.
Ignoring my so-called friend, I turn down the most amazing music playlist in the entire world and glare at the bearded jerk sitting on a motorcycle. “Excuse me?” People are so rude.
“I said…” His voice is rough like he smokes a couple of packs a day. Either that or he’s been eating dust for an hour on his ride. “Your music sucks.”
“No, it doesn’t.” That sounds a little bit defensive and snarky, but I’m being honest. My music doesn’t suck. It’s an eclectic mix of everything from the 1970s to now with an emphasis of songs I can sing along to and ones that will motivate me to keep pedaling.
“Yeah.” He makes a snorting sound, then glances back at another guy, one a bit younger, who’s sitting on his own motorcycle. His eyes return to me as he says, “It does.”
“No. It. Doesn’t. It’s awesome.” It is. I promise you.
The guy chuckles, and it sounds sexy. What a shame he’s the rudest jerk I’ve ever encountered. In. My. Life.
We’re at an intersection where the bicycle trail crosses over a country road. I’ve taken a pause at this spot because I needed to rest for a minute. I’m not used to riding my bicycle yet, so I’ve got to pace myself a little bit until I’m in better shape. This is only the second time I’ve been on my new bike, and no lie, it’s hard work. Luckily, I’m not alone. My traitorous best friend, Laura, the one that just sped past me, is on the ride with me. Well, notwithme. She’s been avoiding my music. She hates it too, but that’s okay. Meghan Trainor is my jam, and I’m unapologetic about my music choices.
“Your music makes my ears bleed.”
“Yeah, well you….” Shoot. I don’t have a good comeback. No matter. He doesn’t need to sit here anyway. I point at the road. “Then go.”
He stares at me, and I’m confused. I feel as though I was clear, but maybe I should clarify. I point at the road again. “Just leave.”
He uses his head to gesture toward the bike trail. “Ladies first.”
You see what he did there? He tried to sound like a gentleman, but I already know he’s not one of those. Besides, I’m not ready to keep riding. I still need a minute or five. “I’m fine. Go.”
The older guy, the rude one, with the thick beard that reminds me of a stereotypical mountain man, shakes his head. “Ladies first. I’d like to get on with my ride.”
What the heck is wrong with this jerk? “Fine.” I put my helmet back on adjusting my pigtails so they’re out of the way, then slide my water bottle into the water bottle bracket thingy on the frame of my bicycle. With a huff, I throw my leg over the bike and wince as I slide onto the seat.
One thing they don’t tell you at the bike store is how bad your butt and crotch hurt after riding a few miles. Those shops should be required to post a sign that says:Warning: Bike seats will make you want to lop off your bottom half due to the pain. I guess if they mentioned it, no one would want to buy a bike.
Just as I’m about to put my foot on the pedal, I decide to give this guy my personal F.U. I turn up the volume of the song currently playing. A little K.C. and the Sunshine Band is just what the doctor ordered.
With my foot on the pedal, I push off with the other one and start to roll. I’m not fast enough, so I’m a bit wobbly, but I’m able to get going. As I cross the gravel road, I hear him again. “She’s kinda cute.”
Kinda?
“If you’re into that sort of thing.” Both men chuckle. It’s the younger one who said that. One thing is certain, they arebothvery rude.
Still, the comment makes my face flush to crimson in a flash as embarrassment rushes through me due to self-consciousness that I can’t seem to shake because it was honed during fifteen years of a shitty marriage.
A shitty marriage that is now over, kaput. Thank God. Which means a new beginning for me. Hell, I hope that means a newme. That’s what this bike thing is about. I let myself go during my marriage. I gained a lot of weight, ate junk food, and just, well, didn’t take care of myself, mostly because I was too busy taking care of Travis.
“No.” I shake my head. I’m not getting into that right now. Today is about being outside in the Midwestern sunshine, listening to my tunes, and getting some exercise. It’s not about Travis. Because, Lord knows, I’ve spent way too much time thinking aboutthatidiot.
* * *
“What wasthat all about back there, Pru?” Laura’s been waiting at the trailhead for me to finish my ride for probably thirty minutes or so. She knew I’d be slow, and she said she was okay with that.
