Horsepower

Frank was late again.

Gerard flipped the metal cap of the lighter open with one finger, then snapped it shut again. He continued the motions in a rhythmic pattern, teeth grinding down on his bottom lip as he tried to fight the craving. Five more minutes, he told himself as his nervous habits began to get the better of him. If he’s not here in five minutes, I’m leaving.

A burst of heat on his face made him realize he had stopped paying attention and spun the sparker with his thumb, releasing the flame now dancing before him. His other hand subconsciously reached toward the pocket where the cigarettes were kept, but he slammed it back down on the table and clicked the lighter shut before the feeling could get the better of him.

The growl of a V-twin engine caught his ear, and he closed his eyes to listen for the specific sounds that would tell him whose it was, tapping the lighter on the table. It wasn’t Bob; the sound was too high-pitched. Ray was at a rally on the other side of the country, and Mikey was seated a few feet away from him. He smiled just slightly. It had to be Frank.

The sound grew louder before halting suddenly. Seconds later the front door squeaked open, bringing with it a cold burst of air that lasted long enough to make him look up. He narrowed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath. If only he could have left earlier.

That definitely wasn’t Frank.

She stood in front of the doorway as the door slowly closed behind her, the chilling air tossing her black curls above her shoulders. Her jacket was partially open, showing pale skin that contrasted against the black leather of the fitted outfit she wore. She knew perfectly well that she was beautiful, something even Gerard would acknowledge. But as far as he was concerned, no amount of beauty could make up for what she had done.

Despite that, he didn’t mind looking at her, as long as she didn’t notice.

It took all of two seconds for their eyes to meet. Her thick red lips curved into a subversive smile as she approached him, boots echoing with dull thuds on the scuffed wooden floor. He stood with one hand on the table and glared at her.

“Gee-”

But Gerard wasn’t listening to his younger brother’s words as he stepped towards her with a deep-set scowl, chain belt jingling as he walked. He picked up the lapels of his leather jacket, exposing more of the flame red of his shirt as he pulled it forward over his shoulders, and brushed some hair out of his face. The minuscule motions appeared useless to those now focusing on the two of them, but Gerard couldn’t waste any chance to let her know exactly how he felt about her. They stopped walking mere feet from each other.

“What are you doing here?” he said through his teeth. Her smile only grew.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I don’t need this right now, Lindsey,” he growled. “Get out of here and stay out.”

She turned on one heel and sauntered away, but not before discreetly winking at him. She disappeared out the door, leaving Gerard standing there in complete disbelief. He doubted she would really go anywhere, and after what had happened last time, he didn’t want to take any chances and decided to follow her out into the cold night.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” she asked with a small laugh, turning to face him as she leaned against the wooden railing.

“Had to make sure you were actually leaving,” he spat. “Not like I can trust you.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re still mad about that,” she said flatly, rolling her eyes and tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. “It wasn’t like I did it on purpose.”

“You destroyed the front fender of a ’75 FX that I rebuilt from a pile of scrap!” He ran a hand through his hair, almost attempting to calm down. “They don’t make parts for that anymore. In case you forgot.”

She smiled. “Just a dent, Gerard. It’ll be fine. But, in the meantime, looks like you’ve found a replacement,” she noted, glancing at the bike in his usual parking spot.

“Mikey’s,” he answered with a shrug. “Mine’s in the shop, thanks to you.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I decided to bring your present today, then.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about, Lindsey?”

“You didn’t think I walked here, I hope.” She unzipped the leather jacket and let it fall from her shoulders to her elbows, revealing a leather vest with crisscrossing ties down the front and arms covered in cascading tattoos. She rested her arms behind her on the railing again, just barely smiling.

“Still have that Night Rod, don’t you?” he asked. The bike was cute, but he couldn’t say he really liked it. In his mind, nothing beat the classics. She shrugged.

“It’s around. Doesn’t mean it’s the only bike I own.”

She moved to walk away from him, but he placed his hands on the rail on either side of her, staring straight at her dark eyes. She simply looked away as if he weren’t there.

“Tell me what you’re talking about. Now.”

She leaned backwards dangerously far over the rail, never once losing her balance. He raised an eyebrow in question. “Maybe if you’d look around, you’d find it.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her into a standing position, noting how chilled she had become, and trailed it slowly down her back until it reached her waist. She shivered, so he pulled the jacket back up over her shoulders, though he guessed it wasn’t because of the cold.

“Let me go and I’ll show you.”

She slipped away from him and darted into the parking lot, disappearing around a corner for a moment. What he saw when she returned took his breath away.

The bike was old; there was no question about that. The chrome coating nearly every inch of it gleamed in the moon’s silver light. The glow thinned to a line once it reached the black polished metal of the fenders and gas tank, shining dimly over the leather seat and vanishing completely on the tires, though the decorated disc brakes gleamed. Lindsey set it on its kickstand, staring at it with a soft smile.

“1969 Harley-Davidson FLH,” she said, trailing a hand along the motorcycle as she spoke. “I thought it would suit your style.”

Gerard hoped he wasn’t drooling as he numbly walked closer to the bike. He gripped the left handlebar, feeling its rigid surface through the worn, thinned leather of his black gloves. He wanted so badly to take it out on the road and never look back. He knew he couldn’t, though, because Mikey would worry if he disappeared and Frank was still late. He couldn’t leave. Not now.

“I can’t, Lyn. You know that.”

“Can’t what?” she asked. She placed a hand on the seat and halfway jumped up on it, looking him in the eyes as if daring him to challenge her. “Can’t go for a little joyride? Can’t leave your friends for an hour or two?” She stuck her chin out a little, looking at him with half-closed eyes. “Funny. I was under the impression that you were the one in charge.” She swung one leg over the bike so she was seated on it normally, dangling the keys in one hand. He wasn’t sure how he could say no.

Gerard reached into his pocket and pulled out his reflective glasses, sliding them on his face. Lyn tossed the keys at him, and he snatched them out of the air, shoving them into the ignition before climbing on the bike. He turned the key and smirked gleefully as the engine rumbled to life. She latched her arms around him, leaning forward so she could inhale the smell of his scent mixed with the leather of his jacket. He eased the bike forward onto the road, hesitating for only a moment before gunning the throttle and releasing the full horsepower of the engine onto the open highway.

Lyn held him closer as the straight road gave way to winding curves reaching up into the hills. Trees began to appear on either side of them, growing progressively taller as the twists and turns of the road sharpened and angled upwards in height. The bike’s chrome glittered in his peripheral vision as the moonlight vanished and reappeared, dipping in and out of tree branches and canopies. Eventually they were lost under the shadows altogether, and Gerard finally slowed the bike to a halt and parked it near a tree.

They climbed off of the motorcycle and walked to the edge of the road. Lyn sat on the grass, pulling Gerard down with her, then lay back and stared up at the stars. He took her hand, looking down at her.

“Why, Lindsey?” he asked quietly. “I mean, where did you get a bike like that?”

She closed her eyes and folded both of her hands behind her head, looking asleep as she talked. “Had it for years, actually. I’ve been trying to restore it, but it’s hard to find anything that works on it.”

“But why are you giving it to me? We’re not really friends,” he added, muttering under his breath.

Lyn opened her eyes. “Are you still holding that against me?”

“…Well…”

“Gerard.” She sat up, blinking rapidly. He wondered if she was trying to hide tears. “I can’t believe you.”

For the first time in his life, Gerard couldn’t think of anything to say. He stared at her, spellbound, until she finally stood up and stepped away from him. She pulled something out of one pocket, uncoiling it and smoothing it between her hands before reaching both hands behind her neck and tying it around her hair. He got to his feet and walked over to her as she climbed onto the bike, and he couldn’t help but notice that it suited her perfectly.

“What are you waiting for?” she snapped.

“Lyn-”

“Come on. Or I’ll leave you here.”

Gerard climbed on the motorcycle behind her, deftly wrapping his arms around her waist. As she started up the bike and began weaving it back down the road, moonlight flickered over them long enough for him to see a red ribbon holding back her hair. He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent. She shivered lightly as if to shake him off, and he reluctantly pulled away just enough to let the brisk air rush over his face.

The moments had been passing in long silence for a while, interrupted only by the thundering roar of the engine, when Lyn suddenly glanced back at him and winked. He found himself holding on to her much more tightly as she rocked the bike back on its rear wheel, revving the engine for extra power. He was surprised how easily she brought it back to the asphalt, and though the moment of exciting fear had passed, he didn’t dare let go of her.

All too soon, they returned to the roadside bar. Gerard climbed off the bike first, expecting Lyn to follow, but she simply sat there, resting one wrist over the handlebars and staring glumly at the bike.

“You okay?” Gerard asked, turning back to look at her.

She sighed. “Better take care of this, Gerard,” she said firmly, finally climbing off the motorcycle and walking over to him. “I’m going to miss it.”

Their eyes met for a slow moment before she looked to the ground and began to walk away. He unbuckled the fingerless leather glove from his right hand and slipped it off, taking a few quick steps to catch up with her, and turned her around with his left hand.

“Here. I know it’s not worth nearly as much, but…” He trailed off as he took her right hand in his own and gently threaded her fingers through the glove. She looked up at him, smiling softly.

“Good enough…” She untied the ribbon holding back her hair, abruptly leaning forward to kiss him as she loosely wrapped it around his wrist. He could barely think fast enough to pull her closer before she broke away, smirking. “…for now.”

In an instant, she had disappeared into the shadows of the small building just a few feet away, and the sharp clarity of her Night Rod’s engine slit the night air and punctured his ears as she rode away. Gerard wrapped the thin ribbon tighter around his wrist, tying it in a small knot and running one finger over the smooth material. He looked up to see which direction Lyn had gone, but the echo of her motorcycle’s engine had disappeared, only to be replaced with the lower, deeper rumble belonging to Frank’s bike.

Frank pulled into his usual parking spot, moonlight glinting off his aviator-style sunglasses and cigarette glowing brightly in the darkness. The sight made the cravings crawl back up from the depths of Gerard’s stomach, but he grit his teeth together to fight them. Frank clicked the bike’s engine off, mumbling an apology as he walked past Gerard and into the welcoming world of the bar.

Frank was late again.

And for once, Gerard didn’t really mind.