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Authors: Dakota Knight

Biker Chick (6 page)

BOOK: Biker Chick
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There was a momentary silence as we all looked at each other. I was the first to burst out laughing. And as we continued to laugh, I knew I had made the right decision to go to see my girls. I would never let a man come between us again.
Chapter Seven
I knew that the clouds in my life could bring rain . . .
One of the best pieces of advice Mom gave me was, “When your relationship with a man ends, keep busy and look good.” I followed that advice. I spent the next couple of weeks actually going to school, handling my businesses, and planning another purse party. Of course, the Trio was back in action . . . well, sort of. Dymond did spend some time with Shadow, but at least it still felt like she put me and Lala first. She had a knack for making people feel special. I wish I had that gift.
I had told Dymond and Lala that I was taking a break from my man. I was too embarrassed to let them know about the Bitch letter. I didn't want them to know all my business. But I did need them to help me get through the rough times. Lala told me that I was better off. Dymond agreed. “There's a whole bunch of guys in Col-town. You'll get another one,” Dymond had said to me. Thing is, I didn't really want another man. I still had feelings for Ray, and I knew it would take a long time to get over him.
I attended Eastwood High, home of the mighty Warriors.
With only two weeks left, I figured I might as well spend my days doing something. As for Ray, he tried to call me a couple times. I ignored him. He also came over, but thankfully I wasn't there. I listened to one message, he asked me what was up with the letter, as if he didn't know. I didn't call him back, but I thought he'd come through stronger for his girl. Oh well . . . I wasn't one to dwell too much.
“I'll be passing out your final papers today,” Mrs. Phillips told my English class on a Thursday. We all responded by groaning.
Mrs. Phillips smiled and said, “Now I know you're all suffering from senioritis, but I must admit,” she paused and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, “I'm disappointed in these grades.”
We all groaned again. The groans grew louder as she began passing out the papers.
Someone tapped on my right shoulder. I turned around. It was Jenna Logan, one of my regulars. “Hey, Crystal, when you doing the purse party? I need a new Louis.”
“Girl, hit me up next week. Even if I don't do a big party, I'll let you check out my selection.”
Jenna looked up and frowned. I felt a presence near my desk. I looked around and saw Mrs. Phillips staring down at me. She was of medium height, maybe two inches or so shorter than me, average build, and she dressed okay. She liked that Jones New York and Anne Taylor look. She was caramel colored and her hair was styled in a short bob. With those little square glasses she wore, she was the definition of teacher. And as she looked at me, I could tell she wasn't happy.
“Crystal, I need to see you after class.”
The groaned changed to a collective of “wooo-osssss.” The expression in her tone said trouble. I almost wished I had cut her class. I nodded at Mrs. Phillips as she moved on. She didn't put my paper on my desk. After she walked past my desk, I glared at Jenna. She silently mouthed, “I'm sorry.”
Five minutes later, the bell rang. I stood up and walked to the front of the class, trying to ignore the “girl, you in trouble” glances coming from my classmates. I went to Mrs. Phillips' desk.
“Is this going to take long?” I asked. “'Cause my girls will be waiting for me.”
Mrs. Phillips peered at me through her glasses. “It'll take as long as it takes,” she said seriously.
“Can I at least tell them so they won't leave me?” I pleaded.
“If I let you out of here, Crystal, I have a feeling you won't be back. Just have a seat and I'll be with you in a minute.”
I smacked my lips and headed for a desk so I wouldn't see Mrs. Phillips reaction. After the last student left the room, she rose from her desk and closed the door. I slumped in my chair, ready to hear her chew me out for whatever reason.
“Well, it's good to see you back, Crystal,” she said as she walked back to her desk.
I mustered up what little enthusiasm I had. “Thanks.”
“I was beginning to worry about you.”
“I'm cool.”
“I'm sure you are.” She picked up some papers from her desk and moved toward me. “Your mother tells me you've been quite busy.”
“Yeah, I've been doing this and that.”
Mrs. Phillips stood in front of me. “Well, you should really consider spending more time on your studies.”
Her face was so serious and firm, I just knew she was about to tell me I had a big, fat F on my final paper.
Damn
.
Mrs. Phillips slid the paper on the desk face down. I didn't want to wait for the bad news, so I flipped the paper around and gasped in shock. On the paper, in between my name and the first line of my story, was a . . .
“You really have talent, Crystal. I'd hate to see you waste it on the streets.”
No matter how many times I'd seen A's, I'd never gotten used to them. But I was shocked to get the grade on a paper I finished during an all-nighter on a stomach full of Red Bull.
“Thanks, Mrs. Phillips.”
“Have you ever thought about majoring in English?” she asked me.
Hell, no.
“Ummm. Not really. I'm more interested in business.”
“I see.” Mrs. Phillips looked toward the large windows on the opposite side of the classroom. “Well, your story about Foxy Baby was very interesting. I'm assuming that's the name of your bike?”
I cringed at the word “bike.”
“I ride a steel, not a bike.”
“It's all just semantics really.”
English? Please!
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“There's nothing wrong with calling a motorcycle a bike, you know.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
She shook her head. “I'm not going to argue with you. I just hope to see you next week. I know it's the last week of class, but don't miss out.”
“But I already got my grades, right?”
“If you don't do it for yourself, then do it for your mother. You know how much your education means to her.
You'll be the first one from your family to attend college.
Aren't you proud of that?”
“Kind of . . . I guess I am. I'm just ready to graduate.”
“I understand completely,” Mrs. Phillips smiled. “I was a senior at one time.”
I shook my head. “I can't see you up in no high school as a student.”
“How else would I be where I am today?”
Mrs. Phillips walked back to her desk. “Look, I know you've got to go, but I wanted to give you something.” She reached into her purse, which looked like a Kmart special, and pulled out a colorful postcard. She walked back to my desk and handed the postcard to me.
The postcard had pictures of a couple of steels. A KAW, a Honda, and a Ducati. The card was an announcement for the Summer Blast, a gathering of black motorcycle clubs from communities in Columbus and the surrounding Central Ohio area. The Summer Blast was planned for the week after my graduation.
“What's this for?” I asked curiously.
“After speaking with your mother, I thought you would be interested in the Blast.”
“Why's that?”
“Well, obviously because you like
steels
.” She stressed the word steels. “I think you and Foxy Baby will have a good time.”
From what I heard, the Summer Blast was for the thirty and over crowd. It didn't sound like my cup of tea. I didn't tell Mrs. Phillips though, because I didn't want her to convince me to go.
“Thanks. I'll think about it,” I said, looking at the door.
“I know. I know. You want to leave.” She backed away from me and I rose from my chair. “I hope you'll think about our conversation.”
I looked at the postcard again before heading for the door. “We'll see.” I tried to mask my sigh of relief. I was finally going to get to go home. “Oh, and Mrs. Phillips . . . you sure you don't want me to hook you up with a purse?” I couldn't resist.
She frowned and looked at her bag. “Why would I want you to do that?” she asked.
I chuckled. “Hey, you buy a purse, and I'll go to this Blast thing.”
“Is that a promise?” She asked.
“My word's as good as gold.”
“We'll see about that, Crystal. Have a nice afternoon.” Her tone was dismissive, kind of like, “You don't have to go home, but you've got to get the hell outta here.” I didn't need any encouragement.
My girls were already gone, as I suspected. I wasn't too pressed because I knew I would catch up with them later. As I straddled my steel and prepared for the trip home, I heard a roar coming up the street. The bell of familiarity rang in my head. The Cruz. My heart froze as they neared, coming up from my rear. I didn't dare look back. Instead, I revved up my engine and headed for the street. The first Cruz steel, a Suzuki, sped by me as I waited at the intersection. He was followed by flash often other motorcycles. None of them acknowledged my presence. I felt a tinge of disappointment as the noise from the Cruz' engines began to fade. Unfortunately, none of those steels belonged to Ray.
As I rode home, thoughts of Ray began to fill my mind.
Keep busy and look good
. Mom's advice pierced through the lingering thoughts of my ex. I thought about going up to the mall and doing some window shopping. But when home came into view, a wave of tiredness flowed through me. I parked and went in the house, opened up the garage and parked Foxy Baby inside.
I found my way into my bedroom and dove onto the bed. As I stared at the ceiling, my eyelids started feeling heavy. An image flashed in my mind. Ray. I loved him. Now I needed to decide if that love was worth trying to get him back.
Chapter Eight
But I realized that the sun would shine again . . .
What's that saying?
If you let it go, and it comes back, then it was meant to be
. . . or something like that. I happen to believe that “it” came back on the night of my graduation. That loving feeling. Mom decided to have a little get-together for the Trio. She was so happy I had a diploma, she had purchased one of those large, expensive wooden frames for it and had it encased in glass before the first guest arrived. The get-together turned out to be a large barbecue, with a much larger turn out than we'd expected. People I didn't even know were hanging out in our backyard.
I was a hustlette in Heatherette. My hair was pulled back in a bun. Mom went all out and gave me a pair of Blahniks for graduation. I couldn't have thought of a better gift and I wanted to show Mom how much I loved them by wearing them too.
The music was bumping, people were well-fed and happy. It was a good time all around. Of course, Dymond was up under Shadow. She was starting to show, big time. And she was only a couple of months pregnant. “What you got up in there, girl, twins?” I asked jokingly.
“You better go knock on some wood,” Dymond replied. “I'm not trying to push out two babies.”
I noticed Shadow looking at me as if I had something weird on. I instinctively patted my dress. “I got something on me?” I asked.
“Naw.” Shadow grunted out. Dymond glared at him.
Suspicion crept up my spine. “What's going on?”
“You trippin',” Shadow responded.
“Baaabbbbyyy,” Dymond said, rubbing his hand.
I wasn't going to let anyone get an attitude with me in my own backyard. “What do you mean I'm trippin'?” I asked, placing a hand on my hip.
“Girl, don't listen to him. He just had too much Heine,” Dymond said.
“I don't believe it, Dymond.” I trained my eyes on Shadow. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“You did my boy wrong.” Shadow spat out.
“I did what?” My voice rose. “You need to get your facts straight.”
“Please don't start,” Dymond urged. “We're here to celebrate, not argue.”
I shook my head. “Why you in my business anyway?” I asked Shadow. “If you want to check somebody, you need to check Ray.”
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned my head. It was Lala.
“Come on, Crys. Don't get into the past,” Lala said softly.
I noticed other people looking at us. There I was talking about Shadow being in my business and I was putting my business out in the street by talking so loud.
I started to walk away, but snapped my head back one more time. “Get your facts straight next time.” I had to get the last word.
Just the thought of Ray put me in a foul mood. And I had just started having fun.
“Want a ReVerse?” Lala asked me.
Normally, I wouldn't have passed up a chance of Rum and Coke. Mom was so happy I had a diploma, I doubt she would have cared if I ended up drunk, even with her man, Gregory, ‘showing her a new way to live.' But I didn't want any alcohol.
I shook my head. “I'm not ready to get lit just yet,” I told Lala. “I think I'm going to go in the house and chill for a minute.”
“You sure?” she asked, concerned.
“Yeah. I just need to exhale for a minute.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“Nah, I just need some time alone. I'll be back in a sec.”
I left the partygoers outside and went into the house. I went to my bedroom and sat on the bed. Just as I was beginning to relax, there was a knock at my door.
“Lala, I told you I need some time. I'll be back out there.”
“This is Dymond, chick; let me in.”
“Like I told Lala, I need some time alone. Give me ten minutes or so.”
Dymond knocked on the door again. “Girl, would you let me in? I need to talk to you about something.”
I huffed and smacked my lips. “I don't want to hear about Shadow being sorry and so on, okay.”
“Girl, I ain't trying to defend him. This is about Ray.”
“I don't want to talk about him either.”
“What if I told you I know about the note?” Dymond asked.
I inhaled deeply, surprised by her revelation. I rushed to the door and yanked it open. I pulled Dymond into the room and shut the door.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“You're probably going to curse me out, but I was being nosey and trying to find out about you and Ray. You know how dudes don't like to talk about their shit and Shadow was keeping the goods like it was classified gov'ment info, so I had to put something on him so I could find out what was going on.” She put up her hand and inhaled deeply before continuing.
“Anyway, girl, he told me you left Ray out in the cold with a note that had ‘BITCH' printed on it and then wouldn't take his calls . . .”
“I didn't want to talk to him,” I said.
“Okay, well, anyway, he said you had just left. Ghosted him when he really needed you. From what Shadow said, a couple of the Cruz almost got caught by some cops and they had to hide out. The cops been trying to clamp down since the mayor declared a local “War on Drugs.” Everybody's green is low.”
I slumped down on the bed. “That's not how it went down.” I patted the space next to me on the bed, motioning for Dymond to sit down beside me. I then told her about what happened the day I found the letter at Ray's house. Her eyes widened as I weaved my tale, and she had to cover her mouth to contain her shock.
When I finished, she shook her head. “That's a trip, girl, but I have one question.”
“What's that?” I asked.
“With as much time as you and Ray spend together, when would he have time to have a bitch on the side?”
I got frustrated. “Obviously some bitch cared enough to take the time to send that note.”
Dymond rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Look, I remember Shadow telling me that Ray was messing around with this girl named Trina a little while before you. She was sprung on Ray, to hear Shadow tell it.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “You didn't tell me about that before!”
Dymond waved her hands in the air. “Please, girl. They had already broke up. I didn't think it was important. Anyway, maybe she heard about you and was trying to break you and Ray up.” Dymond smirked. “Of course, it obviously worked.”
I shook my head. “That seems a bit too neat.”
“Okay, think about it. Has Ray ever got weird calls at his house?”
I shook my head again. “He doesn't have a land line. He only has his cell phone.”
“Oh, well, has he ever been on the phone talking low or acting funny or saying, ‘Could you not call me anymore?' ”
I thought about it for a minute. There were times Ray had been talking on the phone low. There were also times he sounded funny. I had always thought maybe he was dealing with Cruz business, but there was always the possibility . . .
“Do you think he was still messing around with that bitch?” I asked seriously.
“Naw, girl. Shadow would have told me. But he did say that Trina was crazy. And you know only somebody crazy would put a letter like that in the mail.”
A feeling passed through me. A mixture of surprise, regret, and something else I couldn't put my finger on. I lowered my head into the palm of my hands and said, “I think I've totally fucked up.”
I felt Dymond's hand touch my back. She gave me a supportive rub. “Girl, we all make mistakes. But what you going to do about it?”
There was never a question of what I was going to do. I stood up. “I'm about to go . . .”
I was interrupted by a knock at my door.
“Hey, Crys, it's Lala, you okay?”
“Lala, I'm cool,” I said. I walked to the door and opened it. Lala peered into my bedroom.
“I thought you were in here taking a break,” Lala said, frowning.
I put a hand on her shoulder, “It was a break, believe me.” I went to my closet to get my jacket and then proceeded to my dresser to get a pair of jeans and a shirt.
“What's going on?” Lala asked.
“Crys made a mistake, that's all,” Dymond said. “And I think she's about to make it right.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Lala, me and my jealous ass. I just hope I'm not too late.” I pulled off my dress and slipped into my jeans.
“You're not thinking of going back to Ray, are you?” Lala asked with a surprised tone.
“Sure am,” I replied as I zipped up my jacket. “When I'm wrong, I'm wrong. Mom told me that a woman should never be afraid to admit when she's wrong, or a man too, for that matter. I'm going over to his place.”
“Why would you do that?” Lala asked in a tone that kind of shocked me. “I've seen you here moping around and shit. You want to go back to that? He obviously isn't the one for you.”
“Look, Lala, I wish I could fill you in on the whole story, but I don't have time right now. I've got to leave.”
“But it's your party!” Lala exclaimed.
“It ain't like I never left a party before. I'm just going to say I'm sorry, and then I'll be back. It'll be an hour, tops.”
Lala folded her arms across her chest and pouted like a child. I walked over to her and gave her a tight hug. “You know I love you, Lalique, but I've gotta do my thing,” I said before releasing her and heading for the door. “Hold down the fort for me, okay,” I told both of them as I walked through my bedroom door. I didn't even bother looking back.
BOOK: Biker Chick
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