“I didn’t ask.” She offers me a receipt and I stash it in my jeans.
“Thanks.” I leave the building and head for my bike.
Once I inspect everything and secure my bags, I check my cell for messages. There’s another text from Big Jim and a couple other calls I missed. Nothing that can’t wait. I start my bike and then merge with morning traffic on the main road, hoping to reach Interstate Forty-nine before the morning rush. Then it’s a straight shot to Shreveport where I’ll meet up with my new brothers.
On the way to the interstate, I pass Starlet’s car on the opposite side of the road. There’s nothing I can do about it now. She’s gone, and I’m on my way to starting a new life. Whatever or whoever she’s running from, I can only hope she finds peace and happiness. She seems so close and yet so far from it, like me. That’s what makes her so hard to shake. How often do you run into someone that reminds you of yourself? That distant look in her eyes, the wariness, but an obvious desire to overcome it and open up.
I curse myself for being so preoccupied with Starlet—the barrage of thoughts about her like a stampede in my head. So much so, I drift into the left lane. The car next to me honks, and I grit my teeth and open up the gas, speeding by the asshole and switching lanes.
The roar of my V-Twin engine quickly reminds me what I’m about and where I belong. Sometimes it’s hard being on the road so long. A woman like Starlet would make any man doubt himself when he’s starving for relief. I just need to keep reminding myself she’s nothing but a memory now, someone I met accidently.
If that’s the case, why’d did I keep her ID and the note?
Guess that’s something I’ll have to figure out. For now, I’m focused on Shreveport and the new charter.
