With a smile on my face, I look at my daughter, who’s focused on her art. She’s the most important thing there is and at the moment I don’t care about anything else, not even that I have to move her coat to the coat rack. As long as she’s happy.
Two
Iwetthespongeand clean my matte-black Indian Scout’s fuel tank. The mud slowly drips down and creeps into my sponge. I’m careful not to scratch the bike. I gently clean my baby until all the dirt’s removed. Then I set the bucket aside and grab my old, trusty polishing cloth. We repeat the entire process until it’s shiny. As far as a matte-black bike can shine.
My best friend sits down on the low wall next to me, puts a cigarette between his lips, snaps open the Zippo in his hand, and ignites the flame. He bends down to light the cigarette and inhales. Smoke rings emerge from his mouth. Then, his eyes find mine.
Brooks raises an eyebrow. “Do you know where she lives?”
Nodding, I mutter, “Yep.” Of course, he starts with this.
He nods as well, and silence ensues as I wipe down the saddle. “Whatcha gonna do?” he questions, taking another drag.
“Currently, nothing.”
He begins to laugh slowly. As his laughter intensifies, more smoke puffs from his nostrils. “You actually believe that?”
“For now…” I polish the exhaust pipe.
“Do you think whoever did it will leave her alone?”
I plop down on the ground and gaze at the side of my Indian, shrugging. “No idea. What the fuck was he killed for?”
“Hmm, good question.”
“That information would help me assess the risks to Layne’s safety. But fuck, I’m groping in the dark.” I run my hand through my hair.
Brooks says nothing, just looks at me with those icy blue eyes of his. If I didn’t know him better, that look would make my stomach twist with fear.
“What?” I snarl.
He frowns. “Don’t we need to find out more?”
“Dad doesn’t want us to get involved.”
“Fuck the Prez,” he says in a bored tone, studying his nails.
I exhale deeply. “It’s not that simple. I’m the vice president, Brooks. It would set a marvelous example if I go against orders.” I rub my forehead. “Though this is going to be an immense challenge, and if there’s any indication she’s in danger, the old man’s out of luck.”
“I hear you. Jen will have dinner ready in half an hour, so I’m heading home. Just call if you need me.” He gets off the wall and walks over to his bike, throws his leg over the saddle. The roar of the engine causes my nerves to recede somewhat.
A few hours later, I throw my leg over the saddle of my Scout. Night is falling, so I decide to take my bike for a spin. I clip on my helmet, fire up the bike, and hit the road, gunning it in seconds. The wind hits my face and I inhale all the smells. It’s mainly dry heat, but it’s somehow comforting. It’s the smell of home, which warms me from the inside out. The speed and freedom that I’ve never experienced in a car simultaneously gives me an adrenaline rush and some sort of calmness. It’s almost indescribable. I head for the dam. Trees fly past me as I continue the drive.
I park my bike at the viewpoint of the lake when I get there. I step out into the greenery and make my way to my favorite rock, onto which I climb. From there, I look out over the water. The calming sound of gently lapping waves against the shore always helps me to clear my head. Though at the moment, that’s a lost cause.
Layne is constantly on my mind. Ten years passed without a glimpse of her in the flesh, only monitoring her from a distance. And now she’s so close. I pick up a pebble and throw it into the lake with all the strength I have in me. I don’t see where it lands.
What the fuck happened to her husband?
Everything Layne had ever hoped for was suddenly gone. Everything for nothing. What did that asshole do to ruin it?
Reluctantly, I get back on my bike and start my way back. I ride slowly, studying the river. The water is quite calm and shallow. It’s been dry for too long. The ground needs rain, but we haven’t had that in way too long.
Slowly, I make my way back to civilization and before I know it, I stop in front of her house. A faint light shines through the small gap between the curtains, revealing her sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, a mug and a book in her hands. Even after ten years, everything about her is so familiar. The way she sits, the blanket over her thighs, and her long blackhair draped over one shoulder. I’m almost positive she’s got that godforsaken green tea in her mug, and that she’s reading one of her romance novels.
I’m startled by my cell phone ringing. That thing’s a pain to get out of my pocket.
Pax.
