Relapse.

Keoni felt like a kid in the candy store. She didn’t want a Harley, she wanted a Honda. A reliable, easy to operate cruising Honda. The bank approved her for twenty-five large and she planned to spend every damned dime of it from saddle bags to fog lights, even the matching dome for her head.

“Slow down, Hot Stuff. We have to figure out if you want a touring bike or a cruiser,” Throttle said. “The main thing is if your feet sit comfortably on the ground when you come to a stop, which will determine whether or not you can hold up the bike. Then, if you are thinking of riding long distances, how it feels with you in the saddle.”

“This one feels good. I like the Gold Wing but I want more power,” she said, jumping off the seat and going to a red sleek touring bike. “Excuse me, what is this?”

“It’s a Valkyrie, a great cruiser, with power and the ability to sit comfortably while you ride long distances,” the sales agent said.

“Do you have one that I can test drive?”

“Oh, this is for you?” the man asked, surprised.

“No, it’s for the ghost that likes to follow me around,” she said. “Can I test it or not?”

“Of course,” the salesman said, looking at Throttle. “Will you be riding with her?”

“Fuck no,” Throttle said. “Do I look like I belong in a bitch seat? Her name is Keoni Wiles. She is your customer, not me. Let the woman test the damned bike or we will take our business elsewhere.”

“Certainly, sir,” the salesman said, leading Keoni out the back door. Throttle took a seat in the waiting area and looked at the test track. She was just so damned cute in her little black leather pants and cute boots with the shiny black buckles. Poppa J had taught her to ride on several different classes of bikes, and the one she was testing was right in her wheelhouse.

She sat in the seat like a pro and set the dome on her head, and he heard her start it up. The salesman was still talking when she let go of the throttle and took off around the test track. Keoni sat up on the bike, maneuvering it through the track like she was born to ride a cruiser. A Valkyrie was a good choice for her. It looked good under her and she handled it well. The woman handled everything well.

Tomorrow night, he would meet her parents. That he wasn’t looking forward to at all, but he wanted her, and the parents were a part of the package. He needed to handle the situation like a pro. Like a boss. He was deep in thought when she came bolting through the door, her cheeks warmed in excitement.

“Oh, my goodness, that is the one,” she said as she came through the door, winded. “It handled so well, and I bet I looked sexy as hell riding it, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” he said to her, then turned to the salesman. “She will need a windscreen on it, a backrest with pad, and two saddle bags as well.”

“Sounds good. Anything else you want us to add to the package, Ms. Wiles?” The salesman said.

“Fog lights,” she said. “A chick is gonna need some fog lights when she rolling through the mountains.”

Throttle pressed his lips together to keep from laughing as the salesman sputtered, trying to write down her wishes. He made the mistake of looking at Throttle when he asked the next question.

“Sir, how will you be paying for this?” the salesman said.

“With an active imagination,” Throttle tossed back at him. “Again, she is your customer, not me. Talk to the woman. I am just here in case you try to lie, cheat, or sell her some shit she doesn’t need.”

“Thank you, Throttle, but please, let me have the pleasure of handling this man,” she said to him, turning her attention to the salesman. “I know. It’s not your fault. You have just been conditioned to be an asshole. I have my own money and can buy my own bike. Will you deliver it?”

“Y-Yes, we can do that?” The salesman said, swallowing hard.

“Throw in the dome since you were being a misogynistic butt muncher, and we will call it a wash,” she said.

The salesman added a smile, and Keoni went home happy. The bike and accessories came in under budget, leaving a few hundred bucks for a couple of cool riding outfits. More importantly, she was officially a motorcycle owner. Next step, becoming a Lady Guardian. That was if her parent’s didn’t disown her for bringing home Throttle.

Monday and Tuesday passed without much of a flourish, and Mr. Willie walked into the library only offering a smile and wink. That was all she needed because tomorrow, her motorcycle would arrive. If she was lucky, she could ride it over to her parents for dinner on Thursday night.

Maybe Throttle can ride his as well. We ride up like this badass couple on our bikes. My folks will be so shocked. The good feeling followed her through the rest of the day, and Wednesday evening, she received the call. Her bike, with all the extras she ordered, was being delivered. She immediately called her Old Man.

“Hey Throttle, I have great news,” she said into the line.

“I do, too,” he said.

“Can you come over tonight so we can share our good news and celebrate together?”

“Don’t see why not,” he said. “See you at eight. You cooking dinner?”

“I can do that.”

“I’ll bring the wine,” he offered.

She hung up the phone as she stood in the garage, running her fingers over the bike. A lady biker. I want to be a Lady Guardian. I need to become a Hang Around so I can be considered for membership.

As if the gods had been listening to her silent wishes, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number and almost didn’t answer it, but for reasons unknown, Keoni took the call.

“Hello,” she said.

“Keoni Wiles, this is Kai Jefferson, President of the Atlanta Chapter of the Lady Guardians. Your name was given to us by Onyx, and you come with high referrals from Justice the National President. We would like to offer you several bumps up and bring you into the Lady Guardians as a Prospect.”

“You are kidding with me, aren’t you?” Keoni’s heart thumped in her chest. The tongue in her mouth felt swollen as she spoke the words.

“No, we are very serious, but you will be a Prospect, which can last a few years, depending on how active you are in the organization,” she said to Keoni. “You will have to pay your dues, and unfortunately, until you become a fully patched member, voting on club matters will be unavailable to you.”

“I’m okay with that,” Keoni said trying to catch her breath. “This is real. You aren’t joking with me.”

“No. Whatever you did for Grinder weighed heavily on our factors in accepting you as a Prospect. He vouched for your fearlessness in the face of adversity. We will need to time to assess your character and goodness of fit with the organization,” the really nice lady said into the phone. “I hope you have acquired a bike.”

“I have a beautiful red Valkyrie,” she said. “Ready to be a part of the Lady Guardians.”

“Again, you are a Prospect, not a full member yet,” Kai Jefferson told her.

“I know, but I am still pretty stoked. What do I do next?”

The President of the Chapter gave her a list of information, and the dates and times for the next meeting. Before ending the call, she reminded her that her annual dues would have to be paid at that meeting, and Kai welcomed Keoni to the chapter as a prospect.

“Holy shit balls!” Keoni said, dancing about the garage. She was so busy dancing that she barely noticed Throttle riding down the street. The headlights from his bike ended her happy dance. He was barely off the bike when she threw herself into his arms, rambling 500 miles a minute, about the call and the bike, then she stopped.

“I’m sorry. You said you had good news, too. I didn’t mean to make this all about me,” Keoni said.

“No problem,” he said, “I just sold the bar today; no big deal.”

Keoni started dancing again. She thought about all the vacation time she had saved up, how many rides they could take, the freedom of having her very own bike, and being a Prospect for the Lady Guardians.

“I’m so happy right now I could shit,” she said.

“Eww, not sexy, Hot Stuff,” he said, frowning as he pressed the button to lower the garage door. Throttle entered the back door, taking off his boots and hanging his leather jacket on the back of the kitchen chair. In his hands he held the bottle of wine. It all felt like old habit as he sniffed the air, smelling something delicious. “I don’t know what I want to lick first, what’s in that pot or part of the joy oozing from your pores.”

“Start with me. Nobody feels sexy with a full tummy,” she said, giggling and running down the hall.

“My life,” he mumbled, taking off his shirt. He remembered where she kept the wine glasses and bottle opener, so he grabbed both and followed her down the hall. She lay on the bed, this time fully dressed, and the disappointment showed on his face.

“I was thinking maybe this time you could undress me,” she said.

“Anyway you want it, Hot Stuff,” he said, sitting the bottle of wine on the night stand. “Any way you want it.”

“I want it hot, heavy, and nonstop until I call your name. I’ll let you pick the name I call − Dave, David, Throttle, Love Rocket, you tell me,” she said.

He lay on the bed next to her, his warm hand on her stomach, looking up at the ceiling. Everything in his life was about to change again, and this time, he felt as if he had a bit of control over the outcome.

“Love Rocket is a definite no,” he said. “The rest we can figure out.”

“You say that as if you mean long term,” she told him, rolling to her side to gaze at his profile.

“You are good,” he whispered. “I needed good in my life, and you came along just at the right time. Let’s get past this dinner tomorrow night with your parents. If they hate me, then we go to plan B. If they like me, I would like to forge full steam ahead.”

“I like full steam,” she said, throwing her leg across his thigh. “I don’t care where it’s going, I just like the idea of going with you.”

“And I, just like you,” he said, turning to his side and facing her.

The small hand on the clock on the nightstand moved incrementally as they lay side by side, neither making a move to push the evening to completion, but simply lying next to each other, looking and loving what they were seeing. Keoni, finally feeling alive for the first time in her life and Throttle, finally understanding what it meant to share a life with someone who wanted to share a life with him.

It wasn’t much, but to them it was a start. The steam train had left the depot on a new journey and the next stop was at the Wiles home where he would meet her parents. His plan A was to win them over and make them love him. Plan B, hadn’t been constructed as of yet. His Plan A was solid.

Throttle was going to go with that.

Poppa J wasn’t feeling well, but he didn’t want Throttle to miss the dinner with Keoni’s parents. He called his lady friend Ruebell over to pat and hold his hand while his grandson was away for a few hours. Throttle programmed his number into Ruebell’s phone.

“Call me if anything changes with him,” he told Ruebell.

“Have fun. I have this,” she told Throttle, patting his arm.

Throttle arrived at Keoni’s house and she, decked out in biker gear, paced back and forth in the driveway, waiting for him. As soon as she saw his headlight, she jumped on her bike, donned her dome, and fired up the engine. Shifting into gear, she eased out of the driveway, riding side by side with him through her neighborhood to the interstate and to her parents’ home.

Donna Wiles stood in the window, her mouth wide in shock, calling her husband, son, and daughter-in-law to the living room as Keoni dismounted her bike. The tall, slightly muscular man could be made out in the leather jacket, slouchy jeans and biker boots.

“What in the hell?” Rochester Wiles said.

“She actually bought a bike,” Omari chimed.

His wife Sandra commented, “Oooh, they sure do look badass in those leather outfits. When did your sister get a motorcycle?”

“Get the door, Donna,” Rochester said, trying to remain calm when he was anything but. Whoever the man was, he wanted to punch him in the nose. His baby on a motorcycle. She had cut five years off his life just seeing her ride up on the damned thing.

“Mom, Dad, this is Throttle,” she said, coming through the door. His dome was under his arm, as he offered them a hesitant smile.

“Mr. Wiles, Mrs. Wiles, pleasure to meet you both,” he said. “Thank you for having me for dinner.”

Rochester Wiles stared at the handsome White man standing in his living room, giving a nod of his head. His wife, on the other hands was all smiles as her gaze went from her daughter to the good looking gent wearing the snuggly fit leather pants and smelling sexy enough to make a good girl want to be all kinds of bad. Rochester gently punched his wife in the arm to make her stop gawking at the man in the pants entirely too tight for his liking.

“Throttle, this is my brother Omari and his wife Sandra,” Keoni said. “They have two adorable children Sean and Robert, who are probably in the back tearing up something.”

Omari began to laugh, “Damn, you’re White! I didn’t expect that in a million years. Keoni with a White man! Oooh, Oooh! I know Daddy is beside himself. Come on in here man. Come on inside. This is going to be the best dinner in this old stuffy house in a long time! Sandra! Honey, come meet Keoni’s new man! He’s White.”

“Please ignore my husband,” Sandra said offering Throttle a handshake, but his hands were full. “His inner child has not been nurtured this week.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Throttle said. His eyes went to the floor. “Do I need to take off my boots to avoid scuffing the floors?”

“You are so thoughtful and yes that would help,” Donna said, still grinning at the man.

“Only if his feet don’t smell,” Rochester said under his breath.

“No sir, they don’t,” Throttle said, offering a smile. He also provided a bottle of wine from the hand behind him and a small bouquet of flowers for her mother.

“Well, look at you,” Donna said. “Ya’ll come on in. Dinner is ready. I hope you are hungry.”

“I could eat,” he said as he quickly removed his boots and followed them through the nice home. He loved the house and imagined a young Keoni running through the wide hallways being chased by her brother with a frog or something very Americana.

“You are not what I expected,” Rochester said to Throttle.

“I hope that’s a good thing,” he said with no expression on his face.

“Jury is still out,” her father replied.

“Let me know when you reach a verdict.” Throttle said no more as he held the chair for Keoni to sit, and took a seat at the table next to his Hot Stuff. There was no wait for the meal as a traditionally dressed housekeeping staff served the meal with a lively discussion on the arts. To Keoni’s surprise, her leather clad lover was extremely well read and versed in literature and the arts.

“Where did you go to school?” Rochester wanted to know.

“Stanford,” he said. “Then I worked in Silicon Valley for almost 10 years before coming back to Atlanta to see about my Grandfather. I live with him currently, just to keep Mom and my aunt from putting him in a home. Poppa J has led a full rich life, but I saw no need for him to spend his last days living anywhere but the house he spent so many years paying for and making it just the way he wanted.”

“That is so thoughtful of you,” Sandra said, leaning in on the table. Omari popped her arm mouthing. “Back off, wife.”

Keoni ignored them both, changing the subject. “His Grandfather is a really amazing man. Poppa J taught me to ride,” Keoni said with a large smile.

“I thought you taught her,” Omari said.

“No, if she wanted to learn, it was better for her to learn from the Master,” he said as his phone chimed. “Excuse me while I take this call.”

He stood, listening intently, and Keoni noticed the color draining from his face. Immediately, she was on her feet, collecting her things and grabbing his boots. Whatever the issue was, she would be at his side.

Throttle ended the call, his eyes searching hers. “It’s Poppa J. They have taken him to Grady Memorial.”

“Let’s go,” she said, handing him the boots. “I will ride with you.”

“My apologies for cutting the evening short, but I need to see about my Grandfather,” Throttle said. “It was nice to meet you all.”

“I’ll be back for my bike later. Omari, can you put it in the garage for me, and don’t ride it,” she said, tossing him the keys.

Throttle, booted up, donned his helmet and started the bike. Keoni, took the bitch seat, holding on tight as he revved the engine, and shifting into gear.

It took everything in Throttle not to break every speed limit posted to get to the hospital. Arriving at a breakneck speed, he and Keoni entered the hospital and located his waiting family. She easily recognized his father. His mother surrounded him with love as their eyes went to Keoni.

“Guys this is Keoni Wiles,” he told them. “Keoni, these are my parents, Anna and Dresden. My sister Laura and my brother James.”

It was the expression on his mother’s face which stole the smile from hers. Anna knew the name. Her sister had mentioned it a few times but it had been tied to her nephew. Now, it was tied to her son. This was going to get messy and the young woman needed to leave. Anna’s eyes rested over Keoni’s shoulders.

Keoni slowly turned around to see what had given Anna the look on her face. She quickly found out as she looked up to see Carlton walking through the door with his parents. It was her turn to fear the walking dread of what was going to happen next.

“Keoni, what are you doing here?” Carlton asked.

“She came with David,” Anna told her nephew.

“David, what are you doing with my fiancée?” Carlton asked.