Carey

 

Carey’s sleep that night was restless, her dreams vivid. She dreamt that she was on a ship at sail on the high seas, the water endless and blue, the sky a cloudless expanse above her. But as she looked around the ship, she saw that she was alone. As soon as she saw that, the sky darkened with boiling storm clouds, the gentle waters of the ocean picking up into a wild torrent. Fear took hold of her as the rain began to pour down, and she frantically ran to the ship’s steering wheel and attempted to take hold. But it was no use—the storm was too powerful.

 

Just when she lost hope, however, a pair of muscular, ropy arms emerged on both sides of her, grabbed onto the wheel, and held it steady. The ship ceased bucking against the waves, and soon they were back on a steady course. Carey then turned around to see just who the man was who saved her, but all she caught a glimpse of was a pair of sky-blue eyes before she was pulled abruptly out of her rest.

 

“Hey!” shouted Lily. “Get up, lazy ass!”

 

Carey came to and looked with bleary eyes around the small bedroom where she was staying. Lily stood over her, an eager expression on her face.

 

“Wha—” asked Carey. “What time is it?”

 

“A little after nine,” said Lily. “You slept in way too late. We got shit to do. Come on and get that sexy ass of yours in the shower!”

 

With that, Lily headed out of the bedroom. Carey heaved herself out of bed and took stock of the room. With the bikini model and metal band posters on the wall, it was clearly that of a teenage boy, and in the corner on a desk chair was her suitcase of clothing. She grabbed what she needed and went to the nearby bathroom to wash up. Once she was done, she made her way through the small, cramped lower-class house and towards the kitchen, where Lily was already seated with a cup of coffee and her laptop in front of her.

 

“Nice digs, huh?” said Lily, gesturing to the humble kitchen around her.

 

“It’s, um, cozy,” said Carey.

 

Lily snorted, a half-smile on her face. “‘Cozy’ means ‘small and shitty,’ but don’t worry about it; we won’t have to be here for long.”

 

“What do you mean?” asked Carey.

 

“I’m thinking that we can sublet a place for the summer, maybe get a couple of part-time jobs. Holyoke isn’t all rundown like this, and I’m sure we can find a halfway decent apartment to split for the summer.”

 

“Wait a minute,” said Carey. “Part-time jobs?”

 

“Yeah?” said Lily. “You know, the thing you’ve never had to have because your parents pay for everything?”

 

“Not this summer,” said Carey. “They told me if I wanted to ‘rough it’ in Holyoke, then I lost my card privileges.”

 

“Poor baby,” said Lily, scrunching up her cute features in an exaggerated manner. “You’re gonna have to work like the rest of us.”

 

“Oh, and I’ve got my residence to worry about. I need to meet with the artist in the next day or two. But that doesn’t pay.”

 

“Then we’re gonna have to do something about that,” said Lily. “Oh, here—think you could hack it as a barista?”

 

“I can barely make a pot of coffee without burning it,” said Carey.

 

“Nothing like a little on-the-job-training,” said Lily. “I’m thinking we can put together our résumés and go check out some places today. Then after we’ve got some work lined up, we can start looking at apartments. Sound good?”

 

“Sure,” said Carey, feeling a little overwhelmed, not to mention still thinking about the encounter last night, along with the beautiful blue-eyed man who’d possibly saved her life.

 

“Grab some coffee and let’s do it.”

 

Carey, a fresh cup in her hands, plopped down next to Lily, and they both set to work. After a time, the front door opened and shut, the commotion followed by a pair of heavy boots stomping towards them.

 

“Ah, goddammit,” said Lily.

 

“What?”

 

“Boots mean Liam. Shit.”

 

Sure enough, seconds later the lanky, tall frame of Liam appeared in the doorway from the living room. His blond hair loosely hung on his shoulders, and he wore a pair of tight black jeans along with a black T-shirt for a metal band, the sleeves ripped off and putting his tattoos on full display. His boyishly cute face was in an expression of frustration.

 

“What the fuck, Lil?” he said.

 

“Whatever are you talking about?” asked Lily in a calm, even voice before taking a sip of her coffee.

 

“You know just what the fuck I’m talking about,” said Liam, storming over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. “Walking around like a goddamn dumbass in the middle of the shittiest part of town in the dead of fucking night. What the hell were you thinking?”

 

“I was thinking I needed to catch a cab.”

 

“You almost caught a fucking sexual assault,” said Liam. “I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been there.”

 

“You mean if you and the rest of your gang of criminals hadn’t been there?”

 

Liam sighed with frustration. “What’s wrong with you? Why you gotta play mommy all the goddamn time?”

 

“Maybe because I’m not so crazy about the idea of my brother running around with thug lowlifes. Think about that?”

 

Liam sighed again, clasping his hands onto his hips. He turned his gaze to Carey, who’d been watching the exchange in silence.

 

“I’m Liam,” he said, extending his hand. “This little brat’s older brother.”

 

“Though you’d never know he was older by the way he acts,” said Lily.

 

“Um, nice to meet you,” said Carey.

 

“Don’t let this girl get you thinking any differently—you two were in some serious fucking danger last night.”

 

Lily waved her hand dismissively, her eyes on the computer in front of her.

 

“Yeah,” said Carey. “Um, it’s good that you and that other guy were there.”

 

“‘That other guy’?” asked Liam.

 

“You know, the one with the shaved head; the one who threw the other guy like it was nothing.”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Carey spotted Lily raising an eyebrow at this description.

 

“Oh, that’s not just some ‘other guy’,” said Liam. “That’s Owen Flynn. He’s the president of the Fourstroke Fiends; that’s the crew that I run with.”

 

Carey could detect a trace of pride in Liam’s voice.

 

“‘Fourstroke’?” asked Carey. “What does that mean?”

 

“It’s because they’re so good at jerking each other off that it only takes four strokes,” said Lily.

 

“Hey, fuck you!” said Liam.

 

“So, uh, Owen?” asked Carey, eager to bring the subject back to where she wanted it.

 

“He’s fucking awesome,” said Liam. “Been the president for almost a decade now. Word is that the previous president died in some gang fight or something, then when they found his last wishes they said that he wanted Owen to be the new man on top. The other guys weren’t too crazy about that shit, but he proved himself quick as fuck. I’d take a bullet for that man.”

 

An almost dreamy expression formed on Liam’s face as he spoke, and Carey could tell that he had a great deal of admiration for Owen. And from the little bit of him she’d seen, Carey couldn’t blame Liam one bit.

 

“What is he, your boyfriend or something?” said Lily.

 

“Shut up!” said Liam.

 

“He’s a fucking criminal, just like you are. I don’t care how cool or whatever he is, he’s the reason that you’re running around town acting like a thug.”

 

“You need to keep your damn mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” said Liam, pointing a finger at Lily.

 

“Or what?” said Lily, standing up from her seat and face her brother. “You’ll get your crew to come here and beat me up? Maybe Owen can throw me onto the ground like he did to that drunk jackass last night. I bet you’d think he was even cooler then.”

 

“Fuck off, Lily,” said Liam. “You think just because you’re going to some fancy fucking private college that you’re better than anyone else in this town.”

 

“No,” said Lily, her voice cool. “I just think I’m better than you. And I busted my ass to get to where I am now—no cutting corners and breaking the law like you.”

 

“Piss off,” said Liam, stomping out of the room.

 

“What a jackass,” said Lily. “Sorry about all of that. Here, let’s finish these résumés and get out of here; I’m getting stir-crazy.”

 

“Sure,” said Carey, feeling a little on-edge from the confrontation.

 

After a little more work, the résumés were printed off and ready to go.

 

“There’s, like, nothing on mine,” said Carey.

 

“You’ll just have to embellish a little bit,” said Lily with her usual confidence. “Tell them you’re a fast learner and all that crap. I mean, you’re a total babe—they’ll be begging to hire you.”

 

“Cut it out,” said Carey, her face turning red.

 

“So annoyingly modest,” said Lily with a smirk.

 

Grabbing their things, the two of them were soon off and heading down the sidewalk leading to the center of town.

 

“Sorry about my dumbass brother,” said Lily. “He thinks he’s this total hardass now that he’s a biker, but I know that he’s the same punkass he’s always been.”

 

“He acts like he really likes it, though,” said Carey.

 

“Don’t you start with that ‘at least he as a place to belong’ crap; I hear enough of that from my mom. As far as I care, he’s a lowlife criminal, and I don’t like him hanging around the house; he doesn’t even live there anymore. That’s his bedroom you’re staying in, by the way.”

 

“Does he care?” asked Carey.

 

“Who cares? He just comes by to raid the fridge and do laundry; who the hell knows where he’s crashing these days. I just want him gone. The last thing I need is to get involved in his criminal crap while I’m trying to make something of myself, you know?”

 

“I know,” said Carey.

 

In truth, however, her mind was still fixated on Owen. She couldn’t get those blue eyes out of her mind. Not to mention the way he’d handled the situation last night with expert cool and calm. Carey loved the way he had been able to handle himself, taking control of the situation and de-escalating it before it had turned into anything worse. And the way that he’d ignored Lily and escorted the girls back to safety had meant a lot to Carey. It was as though he’d sensed her fear and done just what it took to make her feel more at ease.

 

Soon, the girls arrived at the center of town. Carey noticed how in the daylight it seemed much less foreboding.

 

“Okay,” said Lily. “So, I’m thinking that we can split up. I’ll take the west end, you take the east end. That way we can cover more ground, and if one of us hears about a place that has more than one opening, we can let the other know.”

 

“Sounds perfect,” said Carey.

 

“Be in touch,” said Lily. “We can meet up later for some food. Bye!”

 

With that, she was off, and Carey was alone.

 

As Lily disappeared down the block, a strange thought occurred to Carey. All she could think about was how much she wanted to head back towards where they were yesterday, to the bad part of town, all in hopes of catching another glimpse of Owen.

 

That’s such a stupid idea, she thought, scolding herself.

 

But then again, she thought, as if two distinct voices were arguing in her head, it’s definitely going to be safer in the day. I can just drop off some résumés here, then head over. I just want to see him, is all. Then I can come back.

 

Carey stood in place as she debated her options. Then, almost as if her body were no longer under her control, she began walking towards the bad part of town.

 

Such a bad idea, she thought. Such a stupid, bad idea.

 

Yet she continued on.

 

On the way there, she popped into a few businesses and dropped off a couple of her résumés. Her thoughts weren’t at all about getting a job, however—she needed to see Owen again. Just a glimpse of him had struck her as almost like getting a hit of a drug that she was craving. She needed it.

 

Soon, she was back in the part of the town near the bus depot. While the area was less scary than it had been last night, Carey still felt very ill at ease. Homeless were everywhere, and despite the apartment buildings and homes on both sides of the street, the area seemed like a ghost town.

 

This was stupid, she thought, her eyes darting here and there, her body tense and ready for danger. I’m gonna end up in the back of some guy’s van or something.

 

But before she could spend too much time worrying, a sound cut through the air—it was a motorcycle. And not just any motorcycle; it was the same throaty roar of the bikes that she’d heard last night.

 

Carey looked around, hoping to spot Owen and his crew appearing down the road. But she saw nothing. Then, the motorcycle revved again, and she knew that it was nearby.

 

That’s on the other side of the block, she thought, her heart racing.

 

Her pace quickened, and she soon turned the corner as she made her way to the sound of the motorcycle revving. As soon as she reached the other side of the block, she laid eyes on just where the noise was coming from: a little further down was a mechanic’s shop, a handful of bikes parked out front. Still feeling as if she wasn’t in control of herself, she hurried along until she was standing on the sidewalk outside of the squat, rundown building.

 

Now what? she asked herself, peering into the open garage doors at the men at work on the bikes inside, rock music blasting out from a nearby stereo. Oh, this was stupid. Why would I even think he was here to begin with?

 

“Looking for a job?”

 

The voice came from her right, and Carey turned on her heel in its direction. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when she saw that it was Owen. Wrench in hand, he walked towards her with slow steps, the tiniest of smirks on his gorgeous face. He was dressed in a pair of black workman’s pants, the bottoms tucked into a pair of black boots. On his upper body was a gray, sleeveless shirt smudged with grease, the thick muscles of his arms and chest on full display, along with the tattoos that covered them. A little more grease was on his face, the darkness of it making his piercing blue eyes stand out even more.

 

“Um, what?” said Carey, the words tumbling clumsily out of her mouth.

 

Owen gestured with his wrench to the résumé in Carey’s hand.

 

“We’re always looking for good people,” he said. “But you don’t really strike me as the mechanic type. No offense.”

 

“None taken,” she said, in spite of the fact that it was a clear joke.

 

Carey was so nervous that she could hardly stand straight. She felt like she might pass out at any moment.

 

“You’re Lily’s friend, right?” asked Owen. “Didn’t get your name.”

 

“Carey,” she said. “Carey Oakley.”

 

“Carry get your gun,” he said, another charming half-smirk forming on his face.

 

“Huh?” said Carey.

 

“You know, like Annie.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” said Carey.

 

She realized she was being stiff and odd. To try to lighten the mood, she let out a quick bark of a laugh. But it came out strange and forced, like an alien trying to imitate a human.

 

“Well, Carey,” said Owen. “I can’t help but notice you’re back in the bad part of town. You looking for that boyfriend of yours?”

 

“Huh? What boyfriend?” she asked.

 

Does he know something? Carey asked herself. What if I was really obvious to Liam when I asked about him and he told him something. Oh, God…

 

“That, uh, guy I had to set straight last night. You and him looked like you were making a serious connection.”

 

A small wave of relief washed over Carey.

 

“Oh, no,” she said. “Only connection I liked to see with him was you connecting him to the sidewalk.”

 

Ugh, she thought. Now I’m making bad jokes.

 

But Owen let out a light chuckle in response, to Carey’s relief.

 

“But seriously, though,” he said. “What’re you doing here? I figured you would’ve learned last night about not poking around in the parts of town where you don’t belong.”

 

“Who says I don’t belong here?” asked Carey. “I’m pretty street-smart.”

 

Owen chuckled again.

 

“You look about as street-smart as a rich girl’s purse puppy,” he said.

 

“Hey!” said Carey.

 

“Just sayin’,” he said. “But I’m serious as a goddamn heart attack—you need to stay the hell out of this part of town. You’ve got the world ‘guileless’ written all over your face, and you’re gonna get into trouble around here. And that’s not even if you’ve got that loudmouth Lily getting you into trouble.”

 

“You know, you’re being a real asshole to someone you just met less than ten minutes ago.”

 

“I call ’em like I see ’em,” he said. “And please don’t tell me you fuckin’ walked here.”

 

“Um …” said Carey, suddenly feeling very foolish.

 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said.

 

He looked around, his eyes settling on a building down the block.

 

“You see that diner down there?” he asked, pointing in the direction of a rundown, retro-looking diner.

 

“Yeah,” said Carey, feeling like she might burst into tears at any moment.

 

“Go down there and get a booth. I’m working the morning shift, so I’ll be done here at noon in about thirty minutes. Go grab some coffee, some lunch—whatever; it’s on me. I’ll be in there when I’m done and I can give you a ride back.”

 

“Okay,” said Carey, her voice small.

 

“And try not to get into any trouble on the way there.”

 

Carey nodded and hurried off. She felt beyond silly.

 

He’s right, she thought as she hurried down the street and towards the diner. I wandered into this part of town like some stupid kid chasing after a teacher she has a crush on or something. And he’s completely right to tell me what an idiot I’m being.

 

She hurried into the diner and took a seat at a booth that allowed for a view of the mechanic’s where Owen worked. When the waitress arrived, she ordered herself a cup of coffee and when it arrived she sipped at it while she considered just how bad this idea to come to Holyoke had been.

 

What the hell was I thinking? This city’s no place for someone like me. Owen’s right—anyone stupid enough to go wandering around rough parts of town like some doe-eyed kid has no business here. I ought to just get out of here right now and—

 

“Yo.”

 

Owen’s voice was calm and steady as ever as he slid into the booth, his ice-blue eyes latching onto Carey’s.

 

“Hey,” she said, barely able to hide the fear and stress in her voice.

 

Owen looked her over carefully. But before he could say anything, the waitress arrived. Owen greeted her with a sly, but friendly smile, and it was clear to Carey that the two knew each other.

 

“Ah, ribeye for me, darlin’,” said Owen, not looking at a menu. “And get this girl a cheeseburger with onion rings and … let me see—you don’t strike me as a vanilla girl. Chocolate.”

 

“You got it, sweetie,” said the waitress before heading off with a smile.

 

“How did you know?” asked Carey. “That’s my favorite.”

 

“You just strike me as the type,” he said. He returned to carefully looking Carey over. “And you also look like you have something on your mind. Let’s hear it, kid.”

 

Kid? thought Carey. Does he think he can just talk to a woman he just met like that?

 

Deep down, however, part of her was thrilled to already have earned a pet name.

 

“I just,” she spoke, fighting back the urge to cry in frustration. “I came here to get away from school, and from home, and everything else, and now I feel like I’ve made a terrible decision. You’re right—I’m just some stupid girl who’s in over her head in a town where she doesn’t belong.”

 

“All right,” said Owen, raising his hand slightly and speaking slowly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Now, you might be right that you’re out of your depth, but that doesn’t mean you need to go running scared back to mommy and daddy.”

 

Carey couldn’t help but feel a little better at his words. There was something about his tone and his cadence that made her feel more relaxed. It was beginning to become clear to Carey why he was such an effective leader.

 

“You’re gonna need to toughen up eventually, and now’s not a bad time to do it. You just need to learn not to underestimate this place, like you did last night.”

 

Carey said noting, listening in rapt attention.

 

“Like Lily. She’s a good kid—don’t get me wrong. But that girl oughta be thanking her lucky goddamn stars that she’s got the good sense to get out of this town while she can. I’ve known her for years, and a girl with a mouth like that and an attitude to match would be getting into trouble with the wrong kinda dude around here. At least in some white-collar job she’ll have free rein to boss the cubicle drones around.”

 

Carey couldn’t help but smile a bit.

 

“But you … you’re a different sort. You’re smart enough to know how dangerous this place is, but dumb enough to go wandering around like a lost kid. Tells me that you don’t have a lick of street smarts. Rich girl from the gated communities kind of vibe.”

 

Just then, the waitress returned with their food. Before speaking, Carey grabbed the greasy burger in front of her and took a big bite. The whole experience had shaken her up, and she was hungrier than she thought. After a long sip of her milkshake, she felt ready to talk.

 

“I just … I mean, you’re right. This is all new to me, and part of me just wants to stay. But I hate the idea of running away. I don’t know. I just feel in over my head.”

 

Owen nodded slowly as he tossed a little salt and pepper on his massive cut of bloody meat.

 

“How about this,” he said. “We finish up this here meal, and then the two of us go for a ride.”

 

“As in … on your bike?”

 

“As in on my bike. Just got the girl fixed up, and I think she’s ready to hit the road. That is, if you’re up to it.”

 

Carey didn’t know what to say. Even beyond the fact that she’d never ridden a motorcycle before, she was shocked that Owen was asking her to spend the afternoon with him. She’d known in the back of her mind that it’d be a possibility that she’d see him when she came wandering around looking for him, but now that she was actually about to do it, it seemed surreal.

 

“I can tell you’re a little hesitant, kid,” he said.

 

“I’ve just, um, never been on a bike before.”

 

“Don’t worry about,” he said. “I’ll be doing all the hard shit. All you gotta do is hold on and enjoy.”

 

Hold on … she thought. Oh, God, he means hold on to him!

 

The idea of her arms wrapped around his thick, muscular body was almost enough to make her pass out.

 

Just play it cool, she thought. He already thinks you’re some kind of daddy’s girl.

 

“Um, sure,” she said, trying not to betray how nervous she felt about the whole thing.

 

“Good,” he said, flashing that half-smirk that Carey found irresistible. “Finish your grub and we’ll hit it.”

 

Once they were done, Owen threw down some cash—which Carey couldn’t help but notice was far more than the bill—and the two of them headed out. Moments later, the two of them were standing in front of Owen’s ride, a massive machine made of chrome, with a long black leather saddle and an engine so big it looked to Carey like it could launch them into orbit.

 

Owen straddled the machine and gunned the engine, the bike roaring to life. Reaching down to the side of the bike, he grabbed a black helmet and handed it to Carey.

 

“I thought you said you knew what you were doing?” she asked, placing the helmet on her head.

 

“Can’t be too careful.”

 

Carey noticed, however, that he didn’t have a helmet for himself. Nor, thinking back, did she remember him wearing one last night.

 

“What about you?” she asked over the roar of the engine.

 

“Just gets in the way,” he said. “Now hold on.”

 

Owen ripped the engine one more tie, the bike growling like some kind of enraged beast. Carey wrapped her arms around Owen, his musky scent of motor oil and sweat rushing into her nose. The effect was almost intoxicating.

 

Before she could enjoy it for too long, however, Owen took off. The two of them hurtled onward to parts unknown.