In lieu of another 'Contemplation of a Fat Girl' this week, I have been working on the story I've been creating. This is a bit from the latest chapter of Constance. Sorry it's not perfect, I haven't gone over it a dozen times yet, but as I am also not perfect... You get the drift, right?
...
“Would ya look at that.” She smiled.
“Day’s almost over with nothin’ major.”
The words exited her mouth
accompanied by a low rumble. They looked around to see if it was something inside
the shop causing it. There wasn’t. The sound was getting closer and louder.
Joanne tapped her foot against the floor; she could feel the vibrations running
through the wood counter top under her fingers. She pursed her lips. Of course,
nothing about this week was going smoothly. Yes, more people where bound to
come in, but her windows were beginning to rattle and that annoyed her.
Joanne’s ears perked; the distinguished sound of revving engines became more
apparent. Sam could tell something had suddenly clicked in her mind. She gave a
wicked grin, reached under the counter and pulled out a shotgun. Sam took a
concerned step back. The devilish look reached her eyes, shimmering brightly.
She gave him a quick pat on the shoulder.
“No worries sugar. Just going ta
teach some old dogs a new trick.”
She walked out the door and into the
middle of the road. Sam followed her, but she motioned for him to stay on the
sidewalk with Constance who sat in front of a stoic Pravar, posing with a drawn
bow and arrow facing the ceiling. In his Native American garb and wood paint,
Pravar reminded Sam of the character on the wrapper of a tootsie pop. If the
wrapper had that character on it, he used get another tootsie pop for free; but
that was a long time ago and no longer applied. Sam and Constance covered their
ears, the rumbling of the engines becoming deafening. Over the hill and past a
small cloud of dirt, a gang of motorcycles poured into the Hollow. The muscular
man at the head of the pack, leading them, wore a black leather bandana over
his head with matching knuckle gloves and a tight leather coat with short
fringe up the arms, leather chaps covered his faded blue jeans. Black goggles
and a black and blue bandana covered his nose and mouth, giving him an
intentional air of foreboding. His chopper was elegantly curved but simple, painted
raven black and dark silver with streaks of deep green flowing down the sides,
the stainless steel frame blued. The seventeen others riding behind him were
all clad in leather, each of their cycles equally customized. They slowed their
pace as they came upon Joanne. She raised the 12 gauge at an angle in the air,
bracing the butt against her hip. She waited until they got closer.
“And fire.” Sam heard Constance say,
ears still covered.
Boom!
The sounds reverberated through the
Hollow. The group stopped instantly in the middle of the road and shut off
their motors.
The leader sat and looked at the
woman who now had the shotgun slung over her shoulder, one hip jutted out to
the side, her stance wide. Joanne stared them down with a sense of expectancy.
The leader kicked out his stand, dismounted, and began walking towards her
slowly.
The men behind him tensed.
“You,” she started as he came closer,
“Should know better by now... Dan.”
A light, exuberant laughter came
from behind the bandana of the doomish looking man. He threw his head back and
gave a whoop. With a couple giant strides, he pulled down the cloth over his
mouth, grabbed Joanne around the waist and picked her up with a slight twist.
She giggled and wrapped her spare arm around his neck, snagging his goggles off
his head. His pale green eyes were lost in his smile as he kissed her roughly
before twirling her around, the shot gun lodged awkwardly between them. They
laughed like foolish children. Constance sighed happily and leaned over to rest
her head on Sam’s shoulder who watched them nonplussed.
“I love it when Dan comes into town.
He puts Joanne in such a good mood” she looked up at Pravar.
He gave her a wink before returning
to his pose.
Dan turned and waved for his friends
to park their bikes, the tension from the moment before gone.
She looked behind him and nodded to
the two men who rode to the flank of Dan.
“Jeremy. Dave.” She nodded at them
with a bemused smile. They placed their goggles on the top of their helmets.
“Good to see you again Joanne.” They
said in unison before walking their bikes off the road.
“Y’all ‘re the loudest bunch.” Joanne
chided Dan.
He smiled, his pearly white teeth flashing
in the sun. He set her down, arms still around her.
“I just wanted you to know I was
here” He teased, giving her one last kiss on the forehead before returning to
move his bike from the middle of the road.
“An’ now so does everyone in’na
state.” She shot back.
Joanne gave a contented sigh and walked back
into the Mercantile.
“All right all right.” She waved a
dismissive hand at the group on the sidewalk, although she couldn’t hide her
smile. “Fun’s over, back ta work.”
Constance grinned at her and with
assistance from Sam, got up and went back into the Lodge. Sam followed Joanne
who was already placing the gun back in its spot. She glanced up at Sam.
“Sorry if I startled ya sugar.
Normally don’t pull this out ‘cept for when Aire drags a couple coyot’s in from
the desert.”
Sam shook his head.
“It’s all right.” He replied.
“If ya don’t mind helpin’ these
gentlemen out. They’re a harmless group, won’t bite.” She said with a slight
smile.
“Well I might.” Dan interjected,
striding through the door. “But only her.” He grinned.
The others filed into the shop
behind him, several whispering quick apologies for the noise and paying their
respects to Joanne as they walked by.
“And how’s my favorite cowgirl
been?” Dan asked, leaning on the counter. Having taken off his leather bandana,
his sandy blonde bangs swept in front of his eyes.
Joanne propped herself up against
counter behind her.
“Been dandy.” She replied with a
warm smile, “What brings you boys out here? Already that time a’ year?”
Dan nodded.
“That it is. Annual run for the
club. We got some great weather for it too. It was barely misting when we left
Berkley.”
Some of the guys hooted in agreement.
As Joanne and Dan bantered, Sam
looked at the motley crew. He noticed some were the quintessential ideal of
what one would suspect a biker to look like- tattoos covering their arms, wind
burnt faces and long unruly beards- however others looked like they could be
perfectly at home on Wall Street, trading fortunes and eating caviar off the
slender belly of a human sushi bar.
“It’s rare for someone to be here
that I don’t know.” Dan looked was looking at Sam. “New resident?”
“Ah, this one’s a bit stranded until
we find ‘im a safe way home.” Said Joanne, an apologetic look in her eye.
“Oh? How’d you get stuck here? Not
that there isn’t any place better to be stuck in.” Dan asked Sam giving a quick
wink to Joanne, Sam drawing his attentions to the conversation after directing
one burly man to the swirly straws.
“It’s a long story.” Sam sighed.
Dan chuckled. “Aren’t they always?”
Sam nodded.
“The long short of it,” Joanne
interrupted, “is Sam here needs a ride back ta school in Los Angeles.”
Sam nodded again.
“Before Rose figures out I didn’t
make it back to the dorms and alerts the National Guard.” He said with a wince.
She’d probably try it too, he thought
“Dorms?” Dan raised an eyebrow,
looking Sam up and down. “Isn’t there an age limit?”
He looked at Joanne. She put up a
hand with a slight shake of her head; as always, she’d tell him later.
Sam gave him an odd look, not
understanding what he meant. ‘I’m only 19’, he thought. Joanne gave Sam a quick
smile and asked him to ring up the sales of a couple of Dan’s friends as the
others still milled about.
Joanne and Dan talked in lowered
voices for a moment down the counter, Joanne quickly recounting what she knew
and the how and why Sam was currently stuck there.
“Oh, I see.” He said. “Well Sam,
I’ll tell you what. My friends and I are riding to Corpus Christy in Texas. I’m
heading back here after that. If you haven’t found a ride in three days, I’ll
check your friend’s machine. If I can’t make it work, I’ll take you home myself.
Might not be optimal, but it’s better that nothing.”
“Thanks, but there’s no need to take
me home yourself.” Sam started.
“It’s not a bother.” Dan
interjected, “I have to head back in that direction eventually anyways.”
“I’m sure yer students are happy ta
get rid of ya.” Joanne teased.
“Nonsense! I’m have an awesome
class! And they have a teacher who rocks. It all works out in the end.” Dan
laughed.
At Sam’s quizzical look, Joanne
added.
“Dan here is a tenured professor of
Cultural Anthropology at Berkley.”
Dan puffed out his chest in jest.
“A rockin’ professor.” He insisted.
”I had them put it on my doctorate even.”
Joanne rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah.”
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