Kristen Ashley - Motorcycle Man

I’d seen them both at the party but I hadn’t met either of them. I also had a feeling they’d seen me at the party with Tack and very likely had seen me walk to the Compound and disappear inside it for hours, also with Tack. And therefore, standing in the Colorado sun, in the forecourt of Ride Custom Cars and Bikes, pressed to Tack’s side with his arm tight around me, I had the feeling they were getting the wrong impression.

I fought the blush that was creeping along my skin and said, “Hey, Dog.”

Then I said no more.

Therefore, Brick asked, “You got a name?”

My body tensed and my eyes went to Brick. “You can call me Red.”

The steel arm tightened around my waist and my neck twisted, my head tipping back as Tack growled, “Only I call you Red, Red.”

“Why do you only call me Red?” I asked.

“Because only I do,” Tack answered.

I tipped my head to the side. “Is that really your answer?”

“Only one you’re gonna get,” he replied.

I stared up at him and he stared down at me. Then I gave up.

“Whatever,” I muttered, looking away, pulling again at his arm and not getting anywhere.

“So, again, babe, you got a name?” Brick asked and I looked up at him to see he was smiling.

“Is the name on your birth certificate Brick?” I asked a question I was pretty sure I knew the answer to.

“No,” he gave me the answer I was pretty sure I knew.

I looked at Dog. “Is your name really Dog?”

“Nope,” Dog responded, also smiling.

I looked up at Tack and pulled again at his arm and again it was ineffectually.

“And you? Did your parents name you Tack?”

“No,” he answered.

“Okay then,” I turned to the boys, “since it’s nicknames all around, I’ll answer to whatever you christen me.”

“Whatever we christen you?” Dog repeated.

“Sure,” I told him on a shrug. “I invite you to be creative.” Dog and Brick looked to each other and grinned but I looked to Tack and demanded on a request, “Can you let me go? I have an Employee Handbook to write.”

“No,” he answered and I felt my eyes narrow. He ignored the narrowing of my eyes and went on, “Darlin’, this order is totally fucked up.” And he shook the paper in his hand.

“I know that,” I informed him. “I told you I didn’t know what I was doing and I was going to screw it up. That’s why I brought the pen, so you could make amendments.”

He grinned. “Not enough room on this paper to write all the amendments, Red. How could you fuck this up so much when I wrote down everything I needed?” Then he shook the papers again, my eyes went to them and I realized the Sanskrit notes were his.

“Those are your notes?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“I can’t read Sanskrit, Tack.”

“It ain’t written in Sanskrit, Red.”

“You have worse penmanship than a doctor,” I informed him.

“I can read it,” he informed me.

“Of course you can, you know what it says. To me, it’s a bunch of scratches and squiggles and since I don’t know anything about car and bike parts, I couldn’t guess very accurately. So you need to take some time and write out the changes…” I paused and concluded with emphasis, “ Legibly .”

“Eloise hired an office girl who don’t know shit about cars and bikes?” Dog asked Tack and I looked at him.

But it was Brick who answered for Tack. “Eloise hired an office girl who wears fuck-me shoes and skirts. Who cares if she don’t know shit about cars and bikes?” Then Brick looked at me. “You just take your time, sweetheart, you’ll get it.”

“Thanks,” I smiled at him, deciding to ignore his comment about my skirt and shoes being of the “fuck-me” variety. I thought they were cute and girly but I was a woman, they were men. Men, I knew, thought way different from women and most of these thoughts, I knew, centered around sex so obviously cute to a woman would be something else to a man.

“You need any help, I know all about car and bike parts,” he offered.

I kept smiling. “Thanks, that’s sweet.”

“That’s me, I’m sweet,” Brick smiled back and it was then I felt Tack’s body get tight. My head turned to look at him again and I saw that his neck was twisted and he was looking beyond Dog. My gaze followed his to two men walking from the door of the Compound toward our huddle. They were the two men Tack had been talking to the day before. And they were two men who didn’t look laidback and welcoming like Brick and Dog. In fact, they looked so not laidback and welcoming that they were more than a little scary.

When my eyes swung through Tack, Dog and Brick I saw that they, too, no longer looked laidback and welcoming and they, too, looked more than a little scary.

Yikes!

It was then Tack’s arm gave me a squeeze and I looked up at him to see his head tipped down to me.

“Back to the office, Red. I’ll be in in a minute to go over this with you.”

I saw his face was serious and although this was an order, it was voiced quietly, even gently and thus it felt weirdly sweet.

Therefore, I said quietly back, “All right, Tack.” I looked at the boys. “Later, guys.”

“Later, babe,” Dog murmured to me but his neck was twisted to the two men who were now close.

“Later, girl,” Brick muttered, he also was watching the two men.

Tack let me go. I smiled politely at the two men who were now stopping at the biker huddle then I turned and skedaddled across the cement of the forecourt, my heels clicking loudly as I went all the while wondering what in the hell that was all about.

I was plagiarizing an Employee Handbook I’d downloaded from the Internet when the outside door to my office opened and sunlight shone through around the dark outline of Tack’s body.

Great, I thought.

“Hey,” I said.

“Red,” he replied and walked toward me, demanding, “Call up the order.”

“Okeydoke,” I muttered, professional efficiency personified. I turned back to the computer screen and started clicking the mouse to call up the order. The screen with the order on it was loading when I felt movement close to me and heard papers rustling. I twisted my torso and looked up to see Tack plant his ass smack on the top of my desk, pinning me in my chair turned toward the computer with his muscled thigh.

“Um… could you not sit on my desk?” I requested.

“No,” he replied.

“I asked nice,” I told him.

“Answer’s still no,” he told me.

I stared up at him. He stared down at me. He didn’t look serious like he looked outside before I left him, Dog and Brick. He didn’t look laidback and amused either. I didn’t know what he looked like but I sensed everything was not okay.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“No,” he answered with surprising honesty.

Oh boy.

Perhaps there was dissent in the ranks of the Chaos MC. This was probably not good. And it was probably even more not good if you were the president of the Chaos MC.

And because of this, for some insane reason, likely because I found the consumption of donuts soothed a variety of things that were not so good, I found myself asking, “Do you want a donut?”

He stared at me a beat and he did this with a strange intensity, something I did not get working behind his eyes.

Then, before I got it, he answered, “No.”

“Have you had breakfast?”

“It’s after ten o’clock, Red.”

“Have you had breakfast?” I repeated.

“No.”

“Then you need a donut.”

“I don’t need a donut.”