Page 59 of Rune
“I’m not calling you a bitch,” I clarified. “Riding on the back is called ‘riding bitch.’”
“Oh, okay. I was gonna say. But you’re not allowed to ride without a helmet.”
“I’ll risk the ticket.”
“And your skull?”
“Better mine than yours,” I said, pushing the helmet down on her head, then adjusting the strap.
“Okay. So now what?”
“Now I get on and you climb on behind me. And you hold on.”
“But what about, like, when you take turns or—”
“You just hold on. I’ve got the rest.” I climbed on and looked over at her. “Trust me.”
That was a big ask for someone like her.
But she only hesitated for a second before climbing on and scooting close.
“Am I supposed to put my arms around you now?”
“You can hold on just with your legs if you want.” But I was reaching back for her arms and pulling them around me. “But I like this better.”
She scooted in closer, arms wrapping tight.
Only then did I turn over the bike and slowly drive off.
Her whole body tightened at first, then relaxed around me as we rode from the hotel back to her neighborhood.
Chip was mowing the lawn as we drove up, offering us a distracted wave, but keeping with his task.
“Wow, those windows look great,” Carmen said as we made our way to her porch.
“They should help with your electric bills too. The old ones were drafty as fuck.”
“Thanks for handling that.”
“I put window alarms on them too. So you might want to make sure you flick those off before you open a window, or you’re gonna alert the whole neighborhood.”
“Good to know.”
“You want me to do a sweep?”
“No. It seems like everything is fine now.” She paused on the top step, turning to face me, and sucked in a deep breath. “Really, thanks for everything the past few days. I know you didn’t owe me anything after the whole trying to kill you thing. But it was really nice not to have to handle everything myself for a couple of days.”
“Don’t have anything to thank me for.”
We both stood there awkwardly for a second, clearly each having something to say, but not finding the words.
“You better go get to the Chicken Lady’s house. Can’t keep Paulatry waiting.”
“Right,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, um, see you around.”
But we both knew she wouldn’t.
There would be no accidental bump-ins at a local bar. No ‘I was just in the neighborhood’ drop-ins.
