The Model of Change.

For the oddest reason, Keoni’s mind played out the transtheoretical model of change. She ran through the steps, starting with pre-contemplation, contemplation, determination, action, and relapse. In any of the actions or steps can be entered into at any phase once the cycle has been completed when the desired level of change had been reached. All of the steps Keoni’s had been through in the past few weeks with her new beau. Contemplation made her go to the bar where she’d met Throttle. Action made her save Grinder’s life. Determination got her the bike. She’d completed the cycle and had no intention of entering the relapse phase. She was going back to action.

“Carlton, you and I are friends. I am not your fiancée and have never been your fiancée, and this is not the time. Poppa J is sick. This is about him,” she said.

“How do you know my grandfather?” Carlton asked, his face contorted in anger.

“How do you know Carlton?” Throttle wanted to know.

James and Laura sat, watching the action as if it were an unscripted reality show and the fight scene was about to start. All they needed was popcorn to enjoy the impending fireworks.

“He and I are friends. We dated for a hot minute, but it didn’t work out. I was his plus one to family events and he was mine,” she said looking at Throttle trying futilely to explain a very ugly situation.

“You slept with my cousin?” Carlton asked. “While you were sleeping with me?”

“Stop this ugliness,” Anna said intervening. “Take this conversation into one of those private rooms over there and close the door. Don’t come out until you have a resolution.”

Anna pointed her finger and reluctantly, the three walked into the private room and closed the door.

“Keoni, please explain this,” Throttle said.

“There is nothing to explain. I have not been intimate with Carlton in over six months. We have a friendship, nothing more,” she said.

“I planned to propose to you less than three weeks ago,” Carlton declared.

“And I told you less than three months ago I had no desire or intention to marry you. Can’t you get that through your head? I’ve moved on. I’m with Throttle now,” she said.

“It’s because he’s rich. That’s why you are with him,” Carlton declared.

“He is?” she asked, looking at Throttle.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know,” Carlton said. “And you! You’re the reason for all this biker nonsense. If it weren’t for you, she would be pleased with her life as a librarian and settling down and raising a family.”

“Do you even hear yourself, Carlton? That is so archaic that it makes my teeth hurt,” Throttle said, turning to face his bottle of Hot Stuff. “Keoni, didn’t the last names register in that head of yours?”

“No,” she exclaimed. “He is Black and you are not. How in the hell was I supposed to know you were cousins? How in the hell are you cousins anyway?”

“Our mothers are sisters,” they both said in unison. It had been their responses their entire lives.

“This doesn’t make sense. How are you both Gears if both of your mothers are married?” Keoni asked.

Throttle exhaled loudly. “Poppa J’s only son was killed in a motorcycle accident. His brother only has daughters. To keep the Gear name alive, our mothers left Carlton and me as Gears’. Our brothers took our respective father’s last name to continue the line.”

“Makes sense I guess,” she said, looking out the glass door at the surgeon who was coming down the hall to talk to the family. “The doctor is coming with news on Poppa J. Come on you two.”

The news wasn’t good. In silence, they all sat. She held Throttle as the sadness seeped into him. Keoni offered words of comfort during the time of understanding as the death of Poppa J registered in his head. The old man was gone. James, Throttle’s brother, immediately went into action.

“We will need to sell the bar and split the money,” he said. “I think we need to auction off all the bikes and liquidate those as well.”

“You can’t even wait to let the man get cold, James. And just so you know, the bar has already been sold, and Poppa J’s will specifies to donate the bikes to the National Motorcycle Museum in Iowa,” Throttle said.

“What do you mean the bar has been sold?” James asked.

“The bar was in the hole when I took it over,” he said calmly. “I put my money into it to make it profitable and turn it around. Then I sold it to make back what I put into, and I will pay for the funeral. He asked to be cremated.”

“You are not cremating my Daddy!” His Aunt Denise yelled at him.

“Didn’t seem like you were too worried about your Daddy when you wanted to put him in a home,” Throttle said. “For five years, you barely came for a visit and now you want to lay claim to anything of his. Everything is in the will. He made a living will as well, and you can see for yourself that when it was made, he was of sound mind and body.”

Anna said nothing as she watched her son deal with her sister and his brother. She knew it would come to this and had cautioned Throttle about the fallout of this day. But her son was a smart boy. Always had been.

“Son,” she said. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

His hands were on his knees as he stared blankly at her. “I did everything in my ability to make Poppa J’s last days on this earth as comfortable as could be. He will be missed, but I’m okay.”

“What about the house?” Denise asked.

Throttle said, “He left it to you and Mom.”

“Son, what are you planning to do now?” Dresden Simon, Throttle’s father, asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I met a wonderful woman, whom I planned to bring over to meet you soon and then, if her schedule permits, we are going to do some traveling. Maybe I’ll pick up some freelance work, or who knows. If she can take a sabbatical, it would be nice to hit the road for a while after we put Poppa J to rest.”

He looked at Keoni.

“I have an extra shovel,” he said to her.

“I can help you dig,” she said, looping her arm through his.

“Oh, shut up, both of you!” Carlton said. “You two assholes deserve each other.”

Anna didn’t react but Carlton’s father did. He was a large Black man with wide shoulders, ebony skin, and a low-cut afro. Keoni had met him a few times and he reminded her of someone who used to be famous.

“Carlton, you will cease acting like a spoiled child who can’t have your way,” Earl Jones said to his son. “The woman has made it clear that she doesn’t want you. She’s moved on. Man up and let this go.”

Anna, Throttle’s mother was on her feet, reaching for Keoni’s hand. Keoni accepted it and walked with her to the door. “I have called you a car to take you home. We appreciate you being here for David, but until things cool off between him and his cousin, it’s best you leave,” Anna said.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Keoni said since it was the only thing she had to offer in such a nasty situation.

“Did you have a chance to spend any time with my Father?” Anna asked.

“Yes, I did,” she said. “He taught to me to ride.”

“Me as well,” she said. “I still have my bike that I take out every now and then. There is nothing as empowering as a woman on a bike. It is even more amazing to see a group of women riders on a ride out.”

“Not to change the subject, but I am a Prospect for the Lady Guardians, Atlanta Chapter,” she said to Anna with pride.

“Then maybe I can be your mentor,” Anna said with a wink.

“You?” She said with her eyebrows nearly touching her hairline.

The car to take her home pulled up to the curve. Anna patted her hand as she walked her to the vehicle. She placed a twenty in the driver’s hand to take Keoni wherever she needed to go.

“See you at the next Chapter meeting,” Anna said, waving goodnight to the pretty young woman. Now was a time for family. Anna had to go back and deal with her selfish, self-centered sister, who had raised selfish, self-centered children. Her oldest son, whom she worried so much about, had found someone to share his life. She was a biker to boot, trained to ride by the one and only Poppa J.

“You are always leaving a little something behind, Daddy,” she said as she walked into the hospital alone.

Three months passed and Keoni became a skilled rider. Free weekends were spent at the lake with Throttle. It took nearly five months to sift through all the paperwork and memorabilia in Poppa J’s house, get the documentation correct on the bikes and to ship the ones to Iowa he’d planned to donate. The Rocketeer, Throttle kept.

“I plan to take my son on his first ride in this one,” he said to her.

“Your son?”

“Or daughter, depends on which one you give me first.”

One eyebrow arched in surprise, “Now we are talking about having children?”

“Sure. Marriage and putting a picket fence around the next house as well,” he said. “I want to get out of this city. It’s too congested. Maybe a place in the mountains or down by Lake Oconee.”

“But then I would have to ride in for Chapter meetings,” she said.

“That’s easy,” he said. “How do you feel about a long ride in October to Virginia to the Colonial Bike Fest? They are honoring Poppa J.”

“I have a friend, Alaye, it is her birthday and she lives in Virginia as well. We went to Syracuse together,” she said. “I could give her a call.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “Maybe from there, we can head to D.C. and/or New York, take in a show, see some sights. Drop in and shock the hell out of your grandparents while we are at it.”

“Hey, I have a job,” she said. “I can’t just climb on my bike and roll out.”

“You do know I’m rich, don’t you?” he said, snuggling up close to her in the bed.

“Yes, but I’m not,” she told him. “I have bills to pay and I like eating.”

“Marry me and quit your job, and let’s spend a year on the road, just seeing the country,” he said.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” She said saddling up closer to him.

“Very,” he said softly. “Keoni, marry me and let’s see the country together from the seats of our bikes. I never knew what I wanted in a life partner but now I do. I want you. I love you and want to share so much with you.”

“I love you too, Throttle, but let’s see how I do first on the long ride to Virginia, then we can determine if I am comfortable to do it across country,” she said.

“Of course, you can. After all, you are a badass Lady Guardian,” he said.

“Not yet, I’m a Prospect, but I am still badass,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist and settling her head against his chest. She drifted off to sleep, imagining herself on the back of her hog, the wind whipping past her as cities faded into the background and fresh air filled her lungs.

Keoni Wiles, Prospect of the Lady Guardians. She liked the sound of it. She liked it a whole lot.

Five years came and went as Keoni grew in her understanding of what it meant to belong to something greater than herself. Her love for Throttle also grew as they became parents to a little boy named James who enjoyed Sunday rides in the side car of the old Rocketeer, once ridden in by his great-grandfather, Poppa J.

As a fully patched member of the Lady Guardians, Keoni donned her cut with pride as she prepared for a ride out fund raiser to benefit breast cancer.

“Careful there, Hot Stuff,” Throttle cautioned. “You aren’t riding alone.”

Her hand went to her tummy, caressing the small bump which had began to grow. In six months, the arrival of their second child, whom she hoped was a little girl was expected.

“That’s Mrs. Hot Stuff to you Mister,” she said jokingly. Throttle waved farewell as three year-old James stood in the doorway waving goodbye to his mother.

“She’ll be back soon young man, how about we put on a movie and make a couple of sandwiches,” he offered. “This will be our guy time.”

“Okay Daddy, we can have a few beers,” James said with pride, knowing his father would only allow him to drink caffeine free root beer soda.

For Throttle, being a parent wasn’t the only change in his life. It took only a year before he and Keoni walked down the aisle at her family’s church, saying I do in front of family and friends. Loads of friends they had acquired over the years’ time span in the library world and the biker world. To his amazement, although he offered, his wife never quit her job. Professing a love for the world of books, she remained at the Cleveland Avenue Branch, acquiring her husband as a silent benefactor who added a new computer room. He also taught app development each quarter to local teens providing the young ones a new skill set.

His regular job, if one could call it such, entered his life in the form of consulting around the state of Georgia for tech companies, interested in developing apps for their business enterprises. The gig paid well as he remained engaged, but being on the back of a bike jockeyed for third place in his life.

A woman, he fondly called Hot Stuff sat in first place, with a little man named James, vying neck and neck for the race to the finish line. They lived a good life, camping, riding motorcycles and now raising a family. He smiled as he made ham and cheese double decker sandwiches, while James fumbled with cartridges, trying to determine, which movie he wanted to watch first.

Old habit made him check the garage after his wife left. It still amazed him that in five years, the woman had collected more motorcycles than him and was a whiz at riding them all. Every now and then, Anna, his mother would ride over, and she and Keoni would roll out to chapter meetings together.

“Sisterhood, David,” Anna would say. “The Lady Guardians are all about sisterhood.”

It didn’t bother him in the least. His wife was happy. She fulfilled her dream to be a lady biker. He, now a husband and father, back to work in the tech industry and still a member of the Legion of Guardians.

Life didn’t get any better than this.

ENJOY the first chapter of the following Lady Guardian Novel - keep scrolling:

• Grace’s Redemption by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle