Page 37 of Rags's Awakening
“No chickgetsto me, okay? Are we gonna talk about this high school shit all day or actually work?”
“Are you gonna see her again?”
“Who?”
“You know, bro.”
“Don’t plan on it.”
“I saw you follow her when she left. When you came back solo, I knew you struck out.”
“I was making sure she got back to her car okay. You’re making a big deal outta nothing, and it’s starting to piss me off.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time to get under your skin about a chick. Remember how you were when I was into Kimber? Payback is fuckin’ sweet.” Throttle grinned.
“I’m outta here. I have to settle up with John at the hardware store.” Rags ignored the laughs as he walked out of the office.
Throttle’s gonna run his damn mouth to the brothers about Casey.The thought of Tank, Diesel, Animal, and Puck giving him endless shit didn’t sit well. No way in hell did Throttle just happen to buy a watering can the morning after Blue’s Belly.Nosey SOB.
Rags swung a leg over his Harley and fired it up, the rumble drowning out his thoughts. He peeled out of the parking lot, the wind slicing through the tension.
As he rode toward downtown, he veered toward the Centerstage Theatre. Since he was close, he figured he’d see if Clara wanted to grab lunch. But when the building came into view, he eased off the throttle.
Who was he kidding? He wanted to see if Casey was around. Ever since that night at Blue’s, he couldn’t shake the memory of her soft tits pressed against him, her tongue twisting with his, the silky feel of her hair tangled around his fingers.
Then he remembered her pushing away, breath catching, dark eyes wide. The chill that rolled between them had hit hard, but the heat didn’t die, it just twisted tighter inside him. Even after she tore out of the lot, he’d stood there in the night, watching her disappear into the darkness, the ache for her still pounding through him.
He gunned the throttle, the Harley roaring beneath him as he made a sharp turn away from the theatre and headed toward the hardware store.I don’t need this shit. Get a hold of yourself, dude.He shook his head, scattering the images of Casey to the far corners of his mind, and cut right onto Ash Street.
He slid the bike into an open space, cutting off a compact car halfway into a parallel park. The driver’s window dropped fast.
“What the hell! You think you own the street, asshole?” the woman shouted. “You almost hit my car!”
Rags looked over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You should’ve moved faster,” he said.
He killed the engine, swung off the seat, and lifted his middle finger slow and deliberate before walking away. The Harley ticked behind him as the metal cooled, her angry voice still chasing him. Pedestrians moved aside, their eyes flicking to his cut then quickly away, careful not to meet his gaze. By the time he reached the hardware store and pulled open the door, the woman’s shouting was swallowed by the jingle of the bell and a wash of cool, still air scented with oil and sawdust.
Rags took off his sunglasses, hooked them to the front of his T-shirt, and walked toward the counter.
John looked up from behind the register. “Hey, Rags, how’s it going?”
“Good,” he said. “How’s your old lady and kids?”
John laughed. “They’re all fine. My ‘old lady’ would kill me if she heard me calling her that.”
Rags smiled and pulled the folded receipt from his cut. “I need to settle the account with you before you send someone after me.”
John chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare. You guys are untouchable.”
Rags cracked a faint grin while pulling out a wallet and laying the cash on the counter.
“You expecting a good crowd at the festival this weekend?” John asked.
“Yep. You comin’ with your family?”
“We’ll be there. The wife’s been talking about it for days and the kids are bursting at the seams. I’m looking forward to checking out the custom bikes. Hawk was telling me about them the other day when he came in.”
“Hawk has customized a ton of bikes in the county. You gotta see his latest baby, it’s beyond wicked.”
