Helen, Michelle and James embarked on one of the most important trips of their lives. James seemed to be the least affected of them all. For some reason neither of them could understand, James was very cool about it. On the other hand, Michelle was very anxious. She kept asking him questions about their venues, almost all the way through the flight. In her opinion, even the tiniest detail mattered, such as the seating arrangements. Helen remained silent and preferred to watch their conversations. After all, she had no idea about anything they were discussing and it was none of her business. Furthermore, although she did understand Michelle’s insecurity, she thought she was being nonsensical. Helen had every faith in her vocal skills; she had a good feeling about her concerts. If she did try to confront her, they very well could argue over nothing and humiliate each other on a plane full of people. Helen would not do that to the woman who had just given her a chance to escape her everyday routine.

It’s amazing how stress can consume people like that. Look at her. ‘Why this, why that’… I’m surprised she hasn’t asked if there are any outdoor bathrooms in those venues. Don’t worry, Michelle. You’ll dazzle them, just like you dazzled everybody, back in Williamsburg.

As soon as their plane landed, Michelle proved to them once more how tense she was. Despite the fact that they had just been through a six-hour flight, she stated her will to visit the first venue. Upon hearing her idea, James burst out laughing and with good reason. Michelle was scheduled to perform at “Rockstars”, an outdoor arena in Santa Barbara, almost a hundred miles away and it was 9pm already. Much to his frustration, though, she insisted. Unwilling to follow her, James notified John Donaldson, the venue manager on Michelle’s decision and went to their hotel. She asked him for directions on how to get there and also requested him to be there. Much to her liking, he was polite and agreed. Helen believed that her friend was being absurd, but she would not leave her alone. So, the two women rented a car and started towards Santa Barbara, on that warm, late-July night.

Almost two hours later, they found themselves on a narrow, uphill road outside the city. The venue seemed small on the outside, as their car slowly rolled to a halt. John Donaldson, the aging venue manager was at the gate, with a sullen look on his face.

“Good evening, ladies.” He said, his voice firm, as they approached him. “Ms. Adams, I would really like to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“Excuse me?” Michelle squeaked.

“It’s rather late for me to be here,” Donaldson explained. “Anyway, follow me.”

Michelle let out an exasperated huff, as Donaldson walked through the gate. Beams of light were coming through the door, as they climbed up the dark stairs. The venue manager stepped outside and went to the right.

“Two thousand seats: about five hundred more on that stand over there;” he informed her, pointing to the left, as Michelle swept the well-lit arena. There were massive lights in each corner. Behind the seats, there was an amphitheatrical, spectator stand. “It’s not much, I know.”

“I wasn’t expecting the Rose Bowl.” Michelle said, with a smile of embarrassment on her face. “I’m so sorry to drag you out here so late. I was just too nervous about it, you know?”

“Ah, it’s ok.” Donaldson waved an understanding hand in front of his face. At that very moment, the ground began to vibrate beneath their feet. In a matter of seconds, the deafening sound of thunder-headers ripped through the air, shattering the silence around them.

“Michelle?” Helen’s voice was filled with curiosity. “Doesn’t that sound a little familiar?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Michelle scoffed, looking at her over her left shoulder. “Besides, all Harleys sound the same.”

Disregarding her friend’s reaction, Helen listened intently, expecting the motorcycle to speed past the arena. She didn’t appreciate Michelle’s tone, but, deep down, she knew that she had a point. Still, the Harley did no such thing. The noise of the exhaust pipes became even louder, as it gradually slowed down. Eventually, it stopped outside the gate. The powerful engine revved, as the biker turned on the throttle.

“It’s him!” Helen whispered to herself, her eyes wide open. Without much thought, she turned her body right. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she rushed down the stairs. Stopping at the bottom landing, she leaned forward and snuck a peek outside. It was Marcus. His motorcycle shone under the light of the tall lamppost hanging over it, as he pulled his helmet up and over his head.

“Marcus?” She cried, locking her eyes on his face as she exited the building.

“Helen Weir.” Marcus’s sexy smile reappeared, as he shifted his gaze to her. “Small world.”

“How…”

“Hop on.” He urged, waving her to the seat of his Harley. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“Could you wait here?” Helen requested, struggling to believe that their meeting was a mere coincidence. “I need to talk to my friend first.”

“We’ll be back in no time.” Marcus maintained. “Come on.”

Simply nodding to him, Helen started towards the motorcycle. She placed her right foot on the foot peg and swung her leg over the saddle and put her hands on the holds under the seat. The deep rumble of the thunder-headers shook through her bones, as Marcus turned on the throttle. Before she knew it, her hair was whipping against her face, as the Harley tore through the asphalt. They were not going fast, but still, this unprecedented experience gave her a unique sense of freedom. Helen closed her eyes, feeling the air blowing right into her face, as the powerful motorcycle climbed the hill.

Quickly, she realized that Marcus had been honest with her. Indeed, their destination was less than a mile away from the venue. He slowed down first and then turned left, onto a wide ledge. Her jaw dropped, as she noticed the thousands of city lights. The entire coastline of Santa Barbara lay before her. As much as she liked the breathtaking view however, the growing number of questions in her mind did not allow her to savor it.

“Now would be a good time to start talking,” Helen said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, as Marcus dismounted his motorcycle.

“Okay, you got me.” He admitted, slipping his hands into his pockets as he turned around to face her. “I spoke to James on the phone earlier. He told me you were coming.”

“You live here?” She asked.

“I live in L.A.” Marcus responded. “Hop off. The view’s great from up here.”

“I’m good, thanks.” Helen muttered, dropping her gaze from him. “You still haven’t given me your last name.”

“Hurst.” He was quick to answer. “I was in a hurry that night. James said you’d be here for a while.”

“It’s true.” She confirmed, looking down at the saddle. Marcus’s short steps led him closer to her. Bending down, he tipped her chin up. His sky-blue eyes sent shivers down her spine, as their gazes met.

“It took a lot of guts to do what you did, back in Barbados.” He spoke in his deep, masculine voice. “I have a thing for gutsy women.”

“Gutsy?” Helen gasped in surprise. “I was just wondering why you were leaving so soon.”

“What are you doing tomorrow night, mountain girl?” Marcus made his voice sound sweeter, running his fingers along the line of her jaw.

“I’m sorry, I’m not available.” She whispered. “The concert’s on tomorrow night.”

“The show starts at nine. How’s eleven o’clock?” He lowered his tone.

“I think it will be over by then.” Helen smiled.

“Eleven it is, then.” Marcus winked at her. “The main gate will be too crowded. I’ll be waiting for you at the side exit.”

“Okay.” Her smile widened, as he tilted his head down. Marcus’s lips pressed gently onto hers, as he cupped her cheek. The contrast of his beard grazed her soft chin, as their mouths joined in a long, tender kiss. Helen reached up and circled her arms around his neck, letting his manly scent flow through her, as a strong gust of wind blew through her hair. His hot breath against her face sent her pulse rising, as he caressed her skin. Marcus laid a short kiss on her upper lip and slowly leaned back, as Helen opened her eyes.

“Tomorrow night, mountain girl,” he said, his voice but a whisper. “Now, let’s take you back to that venue.”

Helen gave him a broad smile, her vision still blurry from his intense kiss. Marcus turned around and mounted his motorcycle. This time, the thunder-headers did not bother her. If anything, she enjoyed that deep rumble, her heart beating fast as they rode off.

Okay, this is just unbelievable. I mean, what are the chances of that biker actually living here? God, that kiss was so good. Nice and firm, not too demanding. And those eyes gave me goose bumps. They’re like tiny blue seas. I think I’m going to like it here.

The sight of Michelle, standing next to their red Toyota, with her hands on her waist, snapped Helen out of her thoughts. She saw anger in her eyes, as the motorcycle slowly rolled to a halt. Swinging her left leg over the saddle, she stepped off the Harley, as Michelle shook her head in disapproval.

“Goodnight.” Helen smiled down at him.

“See you tomorrow.” Marcus nodded to her.

“Why the hell did you ditch me like that?” Michelle yelled, leaning towards her, the noise of the thunder-headers still hovering in her ears.

“Did you see who that guy was?” Helen spoke, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“No!” Michelle shouted. “Does it matter?”

“Look, I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have left, okay?” Helen changed to a more non-emotional tone. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“Do you know why I gave you this job?” Frustration was lingering in Michelle’s voice.

“Why?”

“Because I need a friend,” Michelle explained, trying to control her short breath. “Because I knew how nervous I’d be. This is my first gig outside of New York, Helen. It has to be good.”

“It’s going to be great!” Helen put a little more force in her voice. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Do I?” Michelle sighed, shutting her eyes.

“Are we still talking about…” Helen paused, reaching her hand towards her friend’s hand. “…the same Michelle Adams who rocked Williamsburg, back in February?”

“Huh,” Michelle snorted. “That was a beautiful night.”

“Exactly,” Helen used an emphatic tone, wrapping her fingers around her friend’s hand. “I believe in you, Michelle. It’s okay to be nervous, but, trust me, you’re going to be amazing tomorrow night. You’re a fantastic singer.”

“Thanks.” Michelle uttered, turning her gaze back down to Helen’s face. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that.”

“Don’t be.” Helen urged. “I dumped you; I deserved that.”

“So, who was that guy?” Michelle asked, as her gaze shot up to meet Helen’s.

“I was right.” Helen declared, as a smug smile spread across her face. “It was Marcus.”

“You’re kidding!” Michelle exclaimed. “How did he end up here?”

“Let’s get in the car.” Helen suggested, nodding at the same time. “I’ll explain everything on our way back.”