Page 62 of Violent Skies

“Yeah, and anything else we need. Make a list,” she says quickly.

I clean my hands a little deeper on the rag and grab my helmet, watching Cress out of the corner of my eye as she makes a list for Bird. When she’s done, Birdie shoves it into the pocket of her jeans and follows me toward the bikes, only stopping to grab a back pack from beneath her work bench.

“Race you?” She smiles, pulling on her helmet as she swings her leg over the Rebel. She and I both know that my bike is faster but it doesn’t stop her as she revs the engine and takes off without warning.

“Cheater.” I laugh under my breath as I pull from the garage in the direction she went. The road into the city is quiet and the feeling of the bike vibrating beneath me brings clarity to my thoughts as we swerve in and out of traffic. Birdie is being reckless and my heart is in my throat as she looks over her shoulder and changes lanes into oncoming traffic and back without looking.

She’ll be the death of us all.

I lose her in the traffic but a horn honks up ahead and traffic jerks to a stop before she pops out the other lane and down a side street. I swing myself to the right, following her as closely as I can. I know exactly where she’s going but this is about the ride, not about the destination. Birdie knows better than anyone that the only way to get me out of my head is to put me on my bike, and I appreciate her easy nature when it comes to spontaneous plans.

She pulls down a residential street and cuts her engine before climbing off.

“Doing it in the day is risky,” I say to her as I cut mine. She starts digging through her backpack and hands me a black bandana that I tie around my face without argument.

“It makes you feel better,” she says, doing her own hot pink one around her nose and lips. “Besides, it’s a birthday tradition and if he hasn’t figured it out yet, I don’t think ever will.”

Four years ago Birdie escaped one of the roughest relationships I’d ever seen her in and hasn’t been in one since. She chalked it up to clouded judgment and poor intentions, but she never really admitted the truth of it all.

The guy was bad from the start.

On more than one occasion she came home banged up, hiding bruises and cuts from Riggs and Koa, telling them time and time again that she fell off her bike or got into it with some girls at a bar. Excuse after excuse flooded out and every single one protected him. I only knew how bad it was because she slipped up one night. I caught her outside Soundwave in an argument with him and he hit her.

I’ve never in my life seen Birdie cower.

Until that day.

She’s always been a stab-first, clean-up-later kind of girl, and God, do we love her for that, but with him it was like all the fight was sucked out of her. She couldn’t lie after that, and I made her promise not to go back there ever again. Since then it’s become sort of a tradition to terrorize him when we can. He lives in a pretty shitty end of Phoenix and getting caught is part of the thrill, but it’s been three years and it hasn’t happened yet.

The sound of spray paint knocks me from my memory and I see her covering his ring camera with it before she drags the paint across the front of his door. “What’s the message this year?” She’s drawing a heart in bright purple when she looks over her shoulder.

“I’m thinking ‘I can’t go within a hundred yards of a school’ vibes.” She pauses to think about it before she starts writing heinous claims.

“Those are serious accusations, Bird.” Pride creeps into my tone.

“Good.” She says with a smile as she refocuses. By the time we’re finished the whole front of the house is painted like a foul-tasting mural. “We should probably go…” She points to a neighbour standing on the step squinting at as.

“Hey, if we’re arrested at least Riggs can’t boss us around from jail.” I nudge her and we toss the cans to the side before jogging back to the bikes. On the way back we stop for cupcakes and the rest of the things on Cress’s list. Before we pull into the garage we stop in across the street to let Bowie and Jet know about dinner. As we’re unpacking the groceries they wander over with some cases of beer and a bottle of tequila.

“Happy birthday, handsome.” Bowie smiles brightly and kisses my cheek as she shoves the bottle into my arms.

“Hands off my girlfriend,” Jet snaps and I put both in the air. Jet is Bowie’s complete opposite. They’re all dark clothing, with a blunt pitch-black hair cut that frames their mean stare and features so sharp they’re a safety hazard. Fuck Bowie, I want them. Hell, I’d even sit cuck just to see how bossy Jet is in bed.

“She touched me first,” I defend and take a step back with a cheeky smile as Bowie winks at me. “She does it on purpose!” I point and Bowie shrugs. The sun is setting over the back yard but Cress has gone out of her way to make it feel special and it makes me forget how she abandoned us. Just for a moment.

There’s lights strung up I’ve never seen before and they hang over two tables that look older than me, but she’s shoved them together and decorated with whatever she could find. It looks warm and full of intention. It makes me feel good and I don’t necessarily hate that she went out of her way to do it.

“Happy Birthday.” Riggs’s fingers dig into my shoulder as he passes by with a tray of food that smells delicious.

“Feel better?” Birdie asks from beside and I look down at her with a small nod. “Good. Let’s get drunk and make Riggs regret his life.”

I laugh and follow her to the table.

We crowd around it and everyone finds a spot, settling in together in fits of laughter and hushed story telling. I’m completely lost in all of it when my phone vibrates.

Unknown

Happy Birthday. Hopefully it’s not your last.