Eleven
Viola jammed her eyes closed as the sensation of being completely out of control encased her bones and dominated her body. The wind whipping through her hair so violently it felt seconds from tearing the bulbs straight from the root. The bottomless pit in her stomach that only seemed to sink deeper, the faster the bike’s wheels blazed, never letting her forget that one false move could mean lights out. More than anything else, however, it was the man sitting before her that made her feel the most out of control. The clench of the abs she’d just been staring at earlier that morning, now lived under her clammy palms as she clutched his stomach from behind. They tightened right along with her fingers, fingers that gripped his waist tighter whenever he made a turn a little too sharp or took the speed up a little too high. Even now, long after they’d made it onto that expansive, open road—with nothing but grass and blue sky in every direction—her grip remained as relentless as it had been when the motorcycle had been navigating the ferocious highways in Salt Lake’s city limits.
She screamed when, out of nowhere, Jon opened the throttle and sent the bike into overdrive. Blazing at a neck-breaking speed so fast she was secretly waiting for the vehicle to go airborne. If her horrified wails had any effect on him, he didn’t show it, but she had a feeling he was smirking from the front of the bike, thrilled to give her a little terror and discomfort in any way he could manage.
If that was his plan, it was a good one. What he hadn’t planned, however, was the other part of her. The part that was stronger and more powerful than the fear. The part that didn’t mind putting her life on the line on the back of that bike if it meant she could have her arms around his waist. Touch his rock hard stomach. Feel his thick thighs against hers. Feel the rumble of the leather seat below her ass, which, in combination with his strong body against hers, was probably the closest to fucking him she would ever get in her life. He’d underestimated the sheer depth of her perversion when it came to him, and no matter how much pleasure he was getting out of scaring her to death, it would never compare to the pleasure she felt simply from being close to him.
In any way she could.
By the time he brought the bike to a growling stop in front of her mother’s house and cut the engine, she was heaving behind him, not out of fear, but out of amazement as she came down from what had to be the millionth orgasm during their three-hour drive. Not even after he parked the bike, removed his helmet and craned his head over his shoulder did she snap back to the present.
He cut his eyes to the corners, unable to look directly at her as she was still sealed to him from behind. “You wanna get off me?”
I’d rather get on you.
He raised one eyebrow with a cringe, still cutting his eyes over his shoulder.
“I’m only all up on you because I just saw my life flash before my eyes multiple times, and you were the only thing to hold onto.”
“And now the bike is parked, so you’re free to get the hell off me.”
“My bad,” she mumbled, heart tightening as she released his waist and she removed her own helmet. “You’re the one who insisted we take this bike anyway. Then proceeded to break every speed limit in Utah. Seems like you wanted me all up on you, honestly…”
He gave a breathy chuckle but didn’t respond, shaking his head as he snatched his leather gloves off his hands and removed his helmet.
One look around her and Viola’s heart squeezed for an entirely different reason. Her childhood neighborhood, looking like something out of an eighties kid’s movie, hadn’t change a bit since the day she’d been born. A quiet street lined with run down, single-story homes—most of them with black bars on the windows—bid her adieu from every direction. A majority of the barren yards were desperate for a good landscaping, some more run down than others. Each house that greeted her had a different memory to share. Homes of childhood friends, childhood enemies, nosey neighbors, and neighbors who’d become family. Most of the people she’d grown up with had moved to different places, but the memories would remain for life.
“Home sweet home,” she breathed, as her eyes finally finished their excursion, landing on the front door of the house she’d grown up in.
The door flew open the moment her eyes landed on it, and Viola gasped softly when her mother appeared a moment later, still in her plaid pajamas and holding a stainless steel coffee tumbler. She was the same shade of deep brown as Viola, with the same black hair and dark brown eyes. Her face was as round and plump as her body, harboring a pair of lungs that carried a joyous scream across the yard the moment it left her lips.
This time Viola didn’t need any pressing from Jon to get off him, leaping down to the ground on her own at the sight of her mother barreling down the porch steps. Having been overweight all of Viola’s life, with an aversion to bras that had earned Viola many teases at school, her mother brought new meaning to the words jiggle and bounce as she ran across the yard with her arms wide open, still screaming at the top of her lungs. She wore the same bob haircut she’d rocked since the day Viola had been born, and her brown eyes still had the same life and shimmer in them as they had decades ago. Her mother had always told her how important it was to stay young at heart, and she lived that lesson herself every single day.
Viola couldn’t help hollering along with her mother as they ran toward each other with their arms spread wide, like something out of a romance movie. All they were missing to complete the vision was a field of flowers to run through, a pair of long dresses to blow behind them in the wind, and an upbeat tune from The Sound of Music.
“Mom!” Viola cried when her mom came within hugging distance. “I missed…” Her exuberant voice screeched to a stop as her mother blazed right past her—arms still open, lips still screaming—and made a beeline for the motorcycle. “You…?”
“Jonathan Moore?” Gigi Rice cried, nearly taking Jon off his bike as she stumbled to a stop before him and took hold of both his arms with her free and coffee tumbler clad hands, shaking him. “Jonathan Matthew Moore? Is that you, boy?”
“Holy shit.” Jon’s face slowly fell, eyes going awash with light. “Gigi Rice?”
“Yes!” Gigi cried.
Jon took her arms and yanked her toward him, his mouth falling open in a gasp as he clapped his arms around her with a breathy laugh. She embraced him in return, patting his back like the son she hadn’t seen in years.
“I can’t believe this,” Jon said, face still stunned as she pulled back and cupped his cheeks. “How the hell are you?”
“I’m fantastic! And from what I hear on all the TV channels, all the radios, and all the magazine racks, you’re not doing too bad yourself.”
“I’m making it.”
“Modesty doesn’t suit you, boo. Never did. You ain’t ‘making it’. You’re kicking ass and taking names.”
He blushed. “I’m not kicking ass.”
“If you refuse to be arrogant then you better believe I’m gonna do it for you… you are kicking ass and taking every name! How many scrolls have you filled with names at this point? How many ink pens have you gone through, boo? I’m guessing millions! More than dollars you have in the bank even.”
“I’m sorry,” Viola chirped, causing Jon and Gigi’s heads to snap toward her, their eyes squinted and impatient as if she was the perfect stranger out of the three of them. “Does anyone mind telling me what the heck is going on here? How do you two know each other?”
“This is your daughter, Gigi?” Jon pointed to Viola with his top lip curled. “This one? How?”
Gigi howled with laughter. “Jonathan Matthew, if I don’t ask myself that very question…” Gigi’s voice went deadpan as she looked at Viola—hand squarely on her hip. “But, yes, she’s mine.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Damn. Condolences.”
“So you guys just gonna talk trash about me straight to my face?” Viola shrugged.
“It’s not bad if it’s to your face, baby. That’s the only way to do it with love,” Gigi said.
“Or you could just not do it at all.” Viola shrugged, the corners of her lips turned down.
“Oh, hush. You know we’re just teasing you.”
“I’m not,” Jon said. “I’m dead ass serious.”
Gigi swatted his arm with a chuckle, having no idea that he actually was dead ass serious.
Viola frowned at him.
He raised his eyebrows, utterly unapologetic.
Gigi’s smile fell as she motioned between them with her coffee mug. “Hold on. Forget how me and Jon know each other… how do you and Jon know each other?”
Viola crossed her arms. “I asked you first.”
Gigi looked at Jon as if asking permission.
Jon gave a shrug with a soft roll of his eyes.
Taking that as a green light, Gigi turned back to Viola. “Jon was one of my first patients at the center, babe. One of my first success stories.”
Viola’s eyes widened. “Jon was in rehab?”
“Not quite a success story anymore,” Jon said, licking his top teeth while playing his helmet between his fingers. “Fell off.”
“Never too late to get back on. You can always reel it in, Jonathan. How long you been off?”
He smiled coyly. “‘Bout ten years.”
“I see… Well, like I said, never too late to get back on the horse.”
“It is when the horse has already fled the stable. Left to its own devices for a decade. To run wild and free with no boundaries. No chains. A million miles away at this point. Galloping in another galaxy even.”
Gigi cocked a leg out and tilted her head. “Are you happy, at least?”
Jon searched her eyes, licked his lips, and then shifted his gaze over Gigi’s shoulder to Viola.
His eyes fell.
Gigi’s shoulders sagged, her arms falling to her sides, fingers twitching, as if hungry to pull him into a second hug.
“I’m not on that shit no more… but I still smoke sometimes. Have a drink every now and again.” Jon smiled down at his helmet, playing it between his fingers once more. “Guess I failed you.”
Gigi frowned at him. “Of course not. Did you not hear what I just said? About the kicking ass and taking names? About the scrolls? All those dead pens?”
He chuckled and looked off into the distance, massaging his jaw with his fingers.
“So were you ever planning on telling me that you knew a member of my favorite band?” Viola chimed in again. “When White Keys posters started popping up all over my bedroom walls? No alarm bells went off for you? Nothing at all? Is there a reason every person in my life is completely and totally dedicated to keeping things like this a secret from me for no good reason?”
“Baby, you know I have to keep my patients confidential. And, besides, Jon was just a kid then. Wasn’t even famous yet.”
“Do you play bingo with Beyonce? Spa days with Michelle Obama? Was Michael Jackson a former patient of yours, too?”
“Baby, you seem mad, and I’d love to address that, but as it turns out, I still don’t have an answer to my question.” Gigi motioned between Viola and Jon. “How do you two know each other? Are you…?” Her voice trailed off suggestively, and when Jon and Viola shared a look, she went on before either of them could answer. “You know, I always used to tell Jon how much he reminded me of you. How much you two had in common. That if you were just a few years older…”
Jon and Viola shared a look. He planted his legs wide on either side of his bike—craning his jaw so far to the side it looked one false move from dislocating. He craned his head to the side as well, cracking his neck, teeth baring more every second. Like it was taking every ounce of willpower in his body to stop himself from telling Gigi he’d met her daughter on an airplane and had promptly shoved his tongue down her throat, only to learn she was taken by his little brother a few hours later.
“She’s dating my brother.” Jon’s nostrils flared, and his face reddened. “Milo.”
Gigi jolted, then proceeded to look back and forth between Viola and Jon, over and over, waiting patiently for one of them to provide further explanation.
When no such explanation came, Gigi frowned in dismay. “Viola’s dating… Milo?”
Clenching her teeth, Viola stomped toward her mother, unable to decide how she was going to shut her up—with a slap across her cheek or ten fingers around her throat. Considering both options would promptly get her killed, she found herself at a loss, opting instead to purse her lips at her mother, a silent plea for her to shut up.
“Milo Moore?” Gigi’s voice rose, blinking rapidly as she lifted her coffee mug. “The same Milo Moore who’s sweeter than the Stevia in this coff—”
“Yes, Mom, that Milo Moore.” Viola tried to speak to her mother through her eyes, widening them so much they appeared seconds from rolling right out of her head. “He really is a total sweetheart, isn’t he? Such a pure heart and sweet as sugar. Thank God for him, or I wouldn’t have passed freshman year Calc and would probably be sleeping on your couch right about now.” Viola took Gigi’s arm and yanked her away from Jon and his bike while shooting her a look that begged her to shut up.
Gigi squinted as Viola linked their arms and dragged her away from Jon. Her lips puckered the entire way as if she were seconds from clarifying what she’d really meant by “sweet”. Upon taking another look at Viola’s face, however, she seemed to understand her pinched expression for the first time.
“Now, hold on,” Gigi pulled back, fighting against Viola’s hold to look back at Jon. “Jonathan, baby, will you come inside for some French toast and coffee? It’s the least we could do for the man who saved our family business.”
Viola shot Gigi a curious look. “Saved our business?”
Gigi kept her shining eyes on Jon. “Remember how close we came to losing everything, when you were still in middle school, right before that huge anonymous contribution came through?”
Viola’s eyes flew to Jon as a sharp gasp parted her lips.
Even Jon seemed shocked, his cheeks beet red as he sliced his fingers through his hair. “You weren’t supposed to know that.”
“Well, I have my ways, Jonathan Matthew, and I know it was you. Tried real hard to find you so I could at least say thank you, but you’re a tough one to nail down. Impossible, actually.” Gigi took a deep, wistful breath. “You’re the reason the center’s still standing, and even if your horse is galloping in another galaxy, you made it possible for other kids to keep theirs safely in the stable. The least I can do is repay you with some French toast and coffee, so if you don’t get your butt in the house right this very instant…”
“My mom would’ve had to dip into my college fund to save the center,” Viola breathed, her amazed eyes still on Jon.
Jon held her gaze, his chest swelling.
“You—You saved our… our lives. You’re the reason…” Viola couldn’t finish.
“Come inside,” Gigi pressed, nodding toward the house. “Five minutes. I’d love to catch up.”
Even though she wanted Jon to come inside just as much as her mother did, if not more, Viola found her heart constricting with guilt. Even if it was the product of a huge misunderstanding, all Jon wanted was to be away from her, and she couldn’t blame him for that. By donating a pile of money that had probably been pennies to him but had proven a goldmine to her and her mother, he’d saved not just Viola’s life—her future—but her mother’s too. The least she could do was to give him what he wanted in return. Even if what he wanted was to be anywhere she wasn’t.
Viola sighed. “Mom, Jon’s trying to sell his home and has an open house to get to. He’s got a really busy day and doesn’t want to spend it with us.”
Jon studied Viola’s face for a long moment, then his blue eyes shifted to Gigi. “I don’t have to be at the open house. My realtor can manage without me.”
Gigi squealed with an excited hop, bouncing up and down. “Oh, Jonathan, do you know what would be even more amazing? You should come down to the center and talk to the kids! It’s crepe day today and don’t think I’ve forgotten how much you loved the hazelnut flavor.”
“You give an inch…” Viola shook her head at Jon, and her heart soared when he gave her the first genuine smile since the moment he’d found out she was a cheating slut bag. “Should’ve made your escape when I gave you the chance. Now she’s gonna put you to work.”
Gigi stopped hopping and spluttered. “Oh, I’m just so excited, that’s all. Those kids will listen to Jon. Long before they’ll ever listen to me—if they ever do.”
“Maybe you’ve already forgotten that my horse has left the stable and is currently running wild in outer space.” Jon climbed off his bike, hung his helmet on the handlebar, and made his way toward them with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m sure my presence will have the exact opposite effect that you’re intending, unless your kids wanna hear about groupies and blow, in which case, I’m definitely your man.”
“My kids wanna hear the truth,” Gigi said.
“Mom, I thought you told me today was your only day off for the holidays?”
“A nurse called in last minute. She’s part-time, so it’ll only be for a few hours. Might as well take my two favorite people with me, right?”
“You’d think the owner of the place could at least get Christmas off,” Viola grumbled.
“Addiction doesn’t take holidays, baby, so neither do I.”
Viola gave a hearty sigh. Gigi worked too hard, but no matter how many times the youth rehab center she’d founded tried to take her below the financial undercurrent, it was a labor of love that would never lose its luster in her mother’s heart. A labor of love that had forced her to miss too many holidays and Christmases to count. That year would apparently be no exception, except now Gigi was dragging her and Jon right down with her.