Six
Veronica
The nerve of him! Yes, he’s tall, dark, handsome and that close-cropped beard is something I’d love to rub my…face on, but I’m not here for a good time, this is work. I’m walking as fast as I can and I swear I can feel his eyes on my body. I have my laptop tucked under my arm and I’m headed toward the site office. I’d like a few more security measures in place to make sure we can keep the crowds back if they surge forward.
When I arrive, there’s a queue. I join the end of it and am acutely aware that I am the only female in this line. The men not so subtly nudge each other and motion in my direction. I’m doing my best to look uninterested and oblivious to them. Inside I’m berating myself for not bringing a security guard or one of the Savage Angels boys with me.
“Tell me Princess, you ever ridden on the back of real man’s Harley?” asks a voice from behind me.
Slowly, I turn around and fix him with a look of disdain. “Actually, yes.”
Laughter erupts from the men around me and I turn back around. Hands land on my hips and I feel his body pressed against mine.
“You ever fucked on one though?”
Taking a step forward and to the side, I turn back around. “I work with the Savage Angels, if I wanted to fuck on a Harley, I’m sure they could arrange it,” I say as flatly as I can. I do not want this neanderthal thinking he’s gotten the best of me.
He grins at the men around us, nodding his head, arms spread wide. “Damn! Those Savage Angels boys got fancy club whores.” He leans into me as he says whore and his foul breath is laced with beer and garlic.
I can’t help it, I take another step back, cough and wave my hand in front of my face. “Oh for the love of God, take a breath mint!”
The laughter around me becomes louder and my foul-smelling friend gives me the once over, spits and walks away.
I turn back around to find the line has greatly diminished. Within five minutes I’m at the front of it and the organizer has eased my fears. They have their own security to make sure everyone who camps here is safe. I step back out into the sunshine and see the communal showers and toilets. Walking toward them I see a sign that indicates that although showering together saves water these showers are not co-ed. I chuckle to myself as I enter the building. No one is in here and I hurry into one of the toilet cubicles. It’s clean and I’m thankful for that.
I do what I need to do while trying to balance my laptop on my knees. I hear the door to the building open and close a couple of times but pay little attention to it. When I emerge from the cubicle, no one is in there, so I place my laptop on the bench and wash my hands. Just as I’m washing away the suds, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. My eyes dart to the mirror in front of me. Standing just a few feet away, leaning on the wall, is my admirer from earlier at the office.
“You lost?” I ask caustically, even though my heart is racing out of control.
“You got a smart mouth, bitch.” He pushes off the wall and walks toward me.
I turn around. “Take another step and I’ll scream.”
A sinister grin spreads across his ugly face. “I fucking love it when they scream.”
I open my mouth to do just that, but this biker moves like lightening. His hand clamps over my lips, his legs go between mine and I’m hoisted up onto the counter. In one swift move, he rips the filthy bandana from around his neck and stuffs it into my mouth. I taste sweat and body odor and grime. His green eyes are full of lust. I scream but the bandana muffles it.
“Now, bitch, you are going to see how a real man likes to fuck.”
Fear crawls its way up my throat as I choke on his disgusting bandana. I try to hit him but he easily traps my hands on either side of my head.
“This can go one of two ways; I can treat you nice or I can treat you like the whore I believe you are.”
He releases one of my hands and reaches up under my skirt, ripping my underwear down. I claw at his face, digging my nails into whatever flesh I can make contact with. When his fist lands against my jaw, the back of my head bounces off the mirror and I see stars. I can feel his hands as he struggles to undo his belt and then I’m falling, face first onto the linoleum floor. Vaguely, I think it’s not as clean as I thought it was. Next thing I know I’m on my feet, the bandana is out of my mouth and I’m staring into kind dark eyes, not green ones.
“Veronica? Baby? You with me?”
“Gear?”
“Yeah, can you support yourself?” Gear asks. Absently I nod my head. His hands release me and no sooner does he move away before I fall flat on my ass. “Fuck. Sorry, baby, going to leave you there for just a minute.”
I watch as he reaches down and drags a body from the building. I look down at myself and realize my skirt is hitched up, my underwear is gone and my head hurts. Moving forward I position myself on my hands and knees then pull my skirt down. Rising up onto my knees, I grip the vanity and pull myself to my feet. Through the shattered glass of the mirror, I take in my appearance. My hair's falling out of its bun, I have a fat lip and a bruise already forming on my cheek. I tentatively touch the back of my head and when I look, I have blood on my fingertips. Groaning, I turn on the faucet to splash my face.
“You okay?” asks Gear.
I shake my head. If I speak right now, tears will spill over and I’m not sure that I could stop them once they start. I glance into the broken mirror and lock eyes with him. He’s angry, both hands balled into fists. Gear reaches over, grabs some paper towel and hands it to me. Turning around, he winces at my face.
“That bad?” I whisper.
“No, baby, you’re perfect but that looks like it hurts,” Gear whispers back.
I drop my eyes to the floor, only to find he repositions himself in my line of sight. He’s bending at the knees trying not to touch me.
“Veronica, we need to get out of here before someone comes looking for you or that piece of shit.” I nod at him, take a step and stumble. “Okay, let me help? I’m going to put my arm around your waist.”
He’s gentle, treating me like I’m fragile. I am not fragile but my god-dammed legs won’t work properly. Under sufferance I nod.
“I think I need to get checked out.” My voice sounds alien to me, not like my normal confident self.
“Does your rock star have a doctor on call?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t want them to know. Surely there’s someone else?”
Gear places me against a wall, and reaches behind me loosening my hair. It falls around my shoulders in loose waves.
“For now, we can keep it under wraps but you are in the Savage Angels camp, they’re going to want to know who did this. They’re going to want blood.”
I look into his caring eyes and nod. “I know, but not yet. I need to have my game face on.”
Gear chuckles. “Professional bitch face is more like it.”
Grateful that he understands, I smile but the movement causes pain to shoot across my face, groaning, I lightly touch my lips. Gear pulls my hands away to examine me. His fingers press on my jaw and I pull away from him. He scowls at me and continues to probe my face and the back of my head.
“Ouch!” I exclaim, slapping his hands away.
“Nothing’s broken. I had to check, otherwise I’d be taking you to the hospital, like it or not.”
I narrow my eyes at him and push off the wall, he quickly puts an arm around me and guides me out of the building.