Page 74 of Bad Attitude
It takes me fifteen minutes of circling at slow speeds, and by then my bike’s overheating, and so am I. But down a street, I see his Fireblade, parked up near the curb. I slam the brakes so hard I stop in a few feet, the rear wheel coming up and dropping with a bump.
So I’ve found him. Now what?
I haven’t thought that far ahead.
There’s no way I can ride by; that much is obvious. He’ll hear me coming and no biker lets a sportbike go by without a glance. The only option is to go forward on foot, but that actually makes most sense. He won’t expect it. I’ll be able to get close, maybe see him.
Stand in a quiet neighborhood like this and peer over a fence? Yeah, not conspicuous at all.
But I’ve come this far.
I strip my helmet, gloves and jacket off, hanging them on my bike. It’s only a hundred yards up the street; no one’s going to touch them. Then I take a breath, second-guess myself for about the hundredth time, and go for a stroll. All casual, out for a walk, just like Declan does on any given Saturday.
He’s parked outside a nice house. All of them around here are. Large green lawns, lots of floorspace, decent sized garages. A few cars on the road, trees and fences offering cover. I creep closer, trying not to look like I’m creeping. There’s no one around, the place is dead. A peaceful Saturday morning, Netflix and trips to Trader Joe’s, or whatever it is these people do.
Plan bank robberies, perhaps.
And there he is. Standing on the lawn at the side of the house, visible through a hedge. I duck down, heart in my throat, mouth dry. His back is to me, he didn’t see. But he also wasn’t alone. I didn’t get a clear look.
I stay low, fully aware how conspicuous I now am. All it takes is for someone to look out of a window, see me, make a fuss.
But I’m a girl; that helps. No one thinks women are problems, not at first. I bend to my boot like I’m adjusting it, an excuse to stay down. And I edge closer to the hedge.
I can see him through the foliage. His jacket’s off, his helmet’s nowhere. The package I saw isn’t in his hands, it’s in the hands of a woman standing near him. She’s a little older than me, perhaps. Not quite as old as Declan. Blond hair, very beautiful. Opening thepackage from him that I’m certain has jewelry in it. Blue paper, gold ribbon, nicely giftwrapped.
She smiles at him and says something. The words don’t travel. Or maybe they do, but I can’t hear them because my pulse is pounding in my ears.
The rest of me is numb.
She removes the lid, stares at the contents, then flings her arms around his neck. He hugs her back. She’s laughing, he’s smiling.
And I’ve seen enough.
Yet before I can turn away, it gets worse.
Someone else appears in the view through my hedge. A child, maybe six years old.
Declan crouches, holds his arms out, and the child runs straight in. It’s a girl. He picks her up, spinning her around, and she’s laughing. They’re all laughing. I’m the only one here who isn’t, while I learn exactly what I am to him.
I turn away, still staying low, and make it back to my bike before my legs give. Sit on the curb beside it, stare at the asphalt, blurry through my tears.
A woman and a child. Jewelry in a box. A present a week, to make up for his absence?
It hurts in a way I recognize, that’s the worst bit. I should’ve known better—fuck, Ididknow better. I still let myself believe.
I shouldn’t have followed him. I have no one to blame but myself.
The only question in my mind is whether I’d have done this again, if I knew what I would find.
Wouldn’t ignorance hurt less than this?
Sixteen
Raven
Ihead back home, but only to pack a bag.
Declan will come looking for me here, and I can’t see him. Not now, not after this.
