Pee Bee

Heaven, by Rag N Bone Man blared from the speakers. Momentarily lost in the music, I twisted the throttle back and increased my speed. After a few very enjoyable blocks, the song ended.

I glanced at the dash. Much to my surprise, it was 3:00 a.m. I cocked my head to the side. “You worn out yet?”

“Whatever you want,” she said. “I could do this all night.”

“We don’t have to go much longer for that,” I said. “It’s three o’ clock.”

She leaned forward. “Three? In the morning?”

“Well it sure as fuck isn’t afternoon.”

“Holy crap, I had no idea.”

Unlike most women riders, she didn’t hold onto me, and knew very well that she didn’t have to. She rested her feet on the pegs, her back against the rest, and let her arms hang at her sides. Each time she leaned forward, however, her boobs pressed into my back.

It was enough of a tease that each time it happened, I wanted to fuck her that much more.

“So what are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’ve got to get up at 5:15. Take me home, I guess.”

Although we’d ridden up and down the coast in our night’s excursion, at that moment we were only fifteen minutes from where she’d dropped off her car. I changed lanes, rolled up to the light, and quickly made a U-turn in the vacant intersection.

I grabbed a fistful of throttle and sped up to 60 as fast I could. As I steadied the speed, she rested her chin on my shoulder.

“I love it when you go fast,” she breathed into my ear. “It’s…it makes me feel clean.”

“What? Clean?”

“I don’t know how else to describe it.”

A ride on the bike did a lot of things for me, but making me feel clean wasn’t one of them.

“Always made me feel free,” I said. “When I twist that throttle, I want to scream freedom!”

“Maybe that’s what I feel.”

She leaned back against the rest. Within a few minutes, we were parked beside her car.

I switched off the bike, put down the kickstand, and glanced at the apartment complex beside where we were parked.

“This is where you live?”

“This is it.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.” I said, hoping I’d figure out a way to get inside without pissing her off.

She got off the bike, pulled off her helmet, and let her hair down. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, really,” I said. “I’ll walk you up.”

She handed me the helmet. “Okay.”

We walked side by side, weaving through the maze of buildings, until we reached one in the rear of the complex. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, I glanced over my shoulder and looked out toward the street. Her car was half a block away.

“Do you always park way out there?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? There’s parking right here.”

“I like the walk in the morning. It gives me a little time to think.”

“So, you park way the fuck out there?”

“Uh huh.”

“All the time, or sometimes?”

“All the time.”

At first, it seemed odd. After a few steps up the walk, I decided to respect her for being unique.

After we’d walked half the length of the building, I saw a guy passed out against the side of the building. Before I had a chance to point him out, Tegan rushed to his side.

“Marcus!” She leaned over and tapped him on the arm. “Marcus!”

He opened his eyes, glanced at her and then at me. After he rubbed his eyes and messed up his short brown hair, he stood up and put one of his hands against his hip.

At five foot five, and a hundred pounds at best, he was tiny. Dressed in bright blue skin-tight jeans, an equally tight orange tee shirt, gray sneakers, and a powder blue plastic watch, he looked like he belonged in an Easter basket.

He looked right at me. His eyes dropped to my feet, slowly rose along my six-foot-eight frame, and then stopped when they met mine.

“You must be Pee Bee. Your reputation precedes you. By a few weeks. Or fifteen miles. Take your pick.” He looked at my feet. “I like the boots. Are they Docs?”

“Huh?”

“Docs. Doc Martens.” He pointed at my feet. “Your boots.”

They were Doc Martens. I looked at Tegan. Her right hand was covering her mouth. I looked at Marcus. “Yeah, they are.”

He held out his hand. “Marcus. I’m sure she’s told you, but we’re like sisters.”

I shook his hand.

“Marcus is my neighbor,” she said. “What are you doing sleeping outside my door?”

He let out a sigh and then his hands started again. “Brian. We went to Rich’s, which, as you know, I hate. So, we were dancing, and then we had some martinis, and the next thing I knew, he was talking to Greg. Oh my God, it was like, right in front of me. And then he left. Greg, not Brian. Anyway. At that point I was like, what-ever. I mean, who does that? Who? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Uhhm, nobody, thank you. So, I had another martini. Let’s be honest. I had two more. And then I went to the bathroom. When I got back, he was gone. Like gone. So, I looked around, and then I asked around, and then I just left. Or I tried to. I was almost to the door, and Serge grabbed me and made me pay the bar tab. Eighty-five dollars, thank you very much.”

He spoke a hundred miles an hour and used his hands and eyes to put emphasis where he felt it belonged. By the time he’d finished what he had to say, my eyes were rattling around in my head like pinballs.

He looked at me.

I was fucking exhausted just listening to him.

He looked at Tegan, and then tilted his head to the side. “So, outside. What. Do. I. See?”

Tegan gasped. “No.”

His eyes shot wide. “Yes. They were making out. I mean making out. The sloppy kind. And, right by the door. Oh, my God, really? The front door? Have you no taste? Obviously not. It was like an advertisement or whatever for whoever happened past. They should have just put it up on the billboard. You know, the one with that skinny-legged girl on it that kind of looms over the place across the street? For Louis Vuitton?”

“I’m so sorry,” Tegan said.

He reached for the door handle and tried to turn it. After realizing it was locked, he looked over his shoulder. “You know the billboard though, right?”

“Let me get it unlocked.” She pulled her keys from her purse. “I’ll make some coffee.”

She unlocked the door and then looked at me. “Are you going to come in?”

“I’m.” I pointed toward the street. “I’m going to head back.”

“You’re leaving?” Marcus asked.

I nodded.

“Oh my God, not before I do this.”

In one fluid movement, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his phone, and stepped to my side. As he pressed himself against me and held his phone at arm’s length, I couldn’t help but laugh.

The flash blinded me.

Then it blinded me again.

And again.

“Three’s the number,” he said. “You always get one good one if you take three.”

He looked at the pictures, pointed the phone at me, shrugged. “You’re too tall, big boy.”

He held his phone in front of me and twisted his mouth to the side. “Do you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“Your arms are long. Can you. Can you take it?”

I coughed a laugh and reached for his phone. “Sure.”

“Here,” he said, reaching for the screen.

As I held the phone in my hand, he opened the camera app, got it ready to go, and then leaned against me. “Press it three times. In the circle.”

I took three blinding photos, and handed him the phone.

He looked at them, grinned, and then quickly pulled it close to his chest. “Hashtag met a Filthy Fucker. Hashtag three am. Hashtag I hate Rich’s. Oh, wait. I’ll delete the hashtag I hate Rich’s. I don’t want anybody to think, you know.”

I looked at Tegan, who was still standing in the doorway waiting on Marcus. I chuckled at the thought of Marcus, and his hashtags. “I’m going to get.”

“Instagram?” Marcus asked.

I shook my head. “Not me.”

“I was going to follow you. Oh, well. It was nice to finally meet you,” Marcus said.

“You too,” I said.

Tegan mouthed the words thank you.

I nodded.

“I’ll uhhm.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’ll see you the next time I see you, I guess.”

I turned away and walked out to the street. Her car sat on the opposite side of the road, sans a driver’s door.

Her simplistic outlook on life was interesting.

And, as much as I hated to admit it, so was she.