First Time & Other Stories Page 2

  –No, I didn't. Would it matter to you if I had?

  –Well, I shouldn't be cursing to myself in front of customers.

  She turned and went back to setting the table, and at the bar I hunched over my coffee. From Death Valley the ride south had been long and cold, but I was finally rewarded, warm and relaxed in the hotel's restaurant.

  –You looked absolutely frozen when you first walked in. Is that your motorcycle parked out there? I didn't hear you ride up.

  –Yeah, it's mine. I've been on the road since first light trying to get south. If this is southern California, isn't it supposed to be warm?

  She laughed.

  –Yesterday was warm. Today, not so warm. Would you like more coffee?

  –Yes I would.

  When I looked up into her eyes I saw that they were dark brown and perfectly matched to the color of her hair.

  –Your eyes…

  –Yes, I'm a brown-eyed girl, just like the song.

  –You certainly are. I like brown-eyed.

  –In that case I'm not so special any more, am I?

  –Oh, I don't know about that.

  She grinned.

  –I like your hat.

  –It keeps the sun off.

  –It certainly does. It's not doing much today, though, is it?

  More grinning.

  –I like hats. And brown-eyed girls.

  –And this brown-eyed girl likes motorcycles.

  –That's a good thing. I'd be disappointed if you said you didn't.

  I wondered how she felt about their riders.

  –My name is Frank.

  I held out my hand.

  –I'm Annette.

  She took it.

  –The pleasure is all mine, brown-eyed girl.

  I let go of her hand and she was gone. I swallowed what was left of my coffee and struggled to my room to turn up the heat and get warm.

  Later, back at the restaurant, I sat at the bar and ordered more coffee. Annette brought it over.

  –Are you here for dinner?

  –Yes I am. Where can I sit and eat and keep an eye out?

  She grinned and turned to a table behind me.

  –How about right here?

  –Perfect.

  After a few minutes a second waitress came over with a menu and disappeared. Then Annette plopped down a bread basket and was off.

  I've been had, I thought to myself. I've been handed off. But soon Annette was back with her comments on the soup and the specials.

  Tracy took my order. Annette brought it to the table. Tracy wanted to know if everything was okay. Annette refilled my water glass.

  –Being waited on by two women is great.

  No grin at that.

  –You should be so lucky.

  Saucy too. My kind of woman.

  That was the last I saw of her. Tracy brought the bill and I paid up. I went back to the bar and sat down. Annette was busy clearing the tables when I edged up to her.

  –Now that you've seen me without the hat you like so much, do you think I should put it back on?

  –You're fine just the way you are.

  –That's what I tell myself first thing in the morning, but you probably say that to all the boys.

  I grinned at her.

  –Are there any other places to eat around here?

  –Well, I'm a vegetarian, so for me, not so many. There’s a place out by the tire shop where you can get pita sandwiches.

  –That doesn't sound too promising.

  I had hoped there might be a place that I could take her for something to eat, but no such luck. Instead, I asked about her hair. Sometimes they like that. Sometimes they don't. What the hell, try or flame out.

  –You must have long hair if you've got it piled and pinned on top like that.

  Annette turned at her waist and drew her hand across her back.

  –It used to be down to here but I got it cut in April. It's naturally curly but it was getting too long to manage.

  –I like that. When we go for that ride tomorrow will you wear it up or down?

  –Maybe neither. I might wear a 'tail.

  –That'd be all right too.

  –Say, was that an invitation?

  She finally noticed.

  –You bet it was. You're paying attention. And it sounded like you accepted.

  –It did, didn't it?

  Finally the restaurant crowd thinned and she came over to sit beside me at the bar.

  –When I get home tonight I have to write a paper that's due tomorrow.

  I always liked a woman with an education. I figured a woman without one was a liability, not an asset. But what the hell did I know? I'd been on the road and single for years now.

  –Well then, I guess a ride after work is out of the question.

  –I work tomorrow afternoon at four. I could come by early. How does that sound?

  –I think that sounds pretty good.

  She didn't come to say good-bye at quitting time. Instead, she surprised me when she walked across the dining room. Thick dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. Just before she walked out the door she turned and caught me looking and smiling.

  Gotcha.

  Actually, I think we got each other.

  I rode into High Desert in the cold and drizzle early the next morning. Later in the afternoon the sun came through for a while, but it stayed miserable for most of the day. The cold weather that had been following me on my ride south was still hanging around.

  Just before three I strolled down to the restaurant. Annette was already there wearing a brown leather jacket and faded blue jeans.

  –I'm ready!

  –Yes you are. Are you sure you want to go out in this cold and freeze your butt off? We could do it later in the week when it's warmer.

  She looked at me and put her hands on her hips.

  –Last night you said "tomorrow afternoon". It's tomorrow. It's afternoon. When are we leaving?

  –Well, since you put it that way–but I think we better get some chaps on you and a pair of gloves. I was out earlier this afternoon and it'll be cold for you once we get in the wind. C'mon, let's get you dressed.

  Behind the bar Bobbie was smiling at us.

  –Good luck!

  I wasn't sure if this was directed at Annette or at me.

  Some small talk on the walk to the adobe told me more about Annette. She had recently broken off with her boyfriend of five years. For two of those years she had been engaged. I didn't fault her in the least–what woman likes long-term engagements?

  –But we're still friends. It's just too soon after the breakup to get involved with anyone right now.

  –I hear you. For now you'll be my riding partner.

  –I like the sound of that. Wait, what was that–for now?

  I ignored her and smiled to myself. At least she was paying attention.

  –I'm going to leave my bag in your room.

  I handed her the chaps, and she struggled with them until I helped her get them around each leg and zipped down the side.

  –Do you need help with the belt too?

  –No, I can manage the belt this time.

  –Say, you look pretty good in those. Turn around and give me a better look.

  She did. I grinned. She grinned.

  –Thanks. I feel good too. Now where are those gloves?

  I put on another shirt under my jacket and we walked out to the bike. She fumbled with the helmet's buckle under her chin.

  –Here, let me do that.

  She looked at me and smiled.

  –Now for some gloves.

  Still smiling, she held up her hands like a surgeon who has just prepped for an operation, and I pulled thick leather gloves over each hand. She wiggled her fingers as she gave me a thumbs up.

  I laughed, and then began explaining some of my passenger rules. Finally I told her to get on and I eased myself over the seat in front of her and hit the starter. The engine rumbled
to life and settled into a steady rhythm.

  –Are you ready for this?

  –I'm ready! Let's roll!

  I heard a nervous whoop over the pipes.

  I toed into first and eased the throttle on as we shook down the rough gravel driveway. When I hit the street I kicked second and her arms went around me and she let out another whoop of joy.

  I turned east onto the 62 and headed for open road and third gear. Fourth and fifth came easy, and the wind flowed around us.

  –Are you okay with this?

  She hugged me with her thighs.

  –Does that mean yes?

  She did it again.

  Comfortable now, I leaned back into her. Her arms relaxed around my waist and her hands settled onto my hips. I rested my elbow on her thigh and I got the feeling this wasn't her first time on a motorcycle.

  Annette's hair was done in a 'tail, and occasionally it got caught in the wind streaming past the Harley's fairing. Finally she grabbed it and tucked it down into the front of her jacket. Her hands went back to my hips.

  I adjusted one of the mirrors so that I could see her reflection. She was grinning from ear to ear. She caught me looking and leaned forward to put her lips close to my ear.

  –This is fabulous! Where have you been in my life until now?

  –How about if we make today day one?

  Mindful of our conversation a little earlier, I left it at that.

  We continued east into the desert without saying anything, but occasionally I felt Annette's cheek on my shoulder. It was her way of letting me how much she was enjoying the ride.

  –What time is it?

  Reality finally intruded.

  –I don't know. I never wear a watch.

  –I have to get to work.

  –I know. There's a turnaround just a few miles east of here. We'll turn there if that's okay.

  –It's not okay, but it has to be.

  Finally I turned back onto the gravel drive. Before I could get us back to the adobe she stood up on the pegs, leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

  –Hey now! What was that for?

  –That's for the next time.

  We pulled up to the adobe and I helped her get the helmet and chaps off.

  –Can I change in your room?

  –Of course you can.

  When she came back out she was ready for work.

  –It's cold in there.

  –Next time I'll have a fire ready.

  –I left my bag in your room. Is that all right?

  –It sure is. You can pick it up later.

  –Will I see you for dinner?

  –You know you will.

  She turned and smiled.

  –I like the ponytail.

  She turned again.

  –I'll see you later.

  Surely there has to be a vegetarian restaurant somewhere within a hundred miles. If not, I should have the fireplace going and the room nice and warm when later comes around. I'm thinking I just might hang around for a day or two until the weather warms up too.

  Just in case.

  Finding Amy

  We met the night before during one of her performances.

  Well, all right, we didn't exactly meet in a normal way. I was sitting alone at a table well back from the splash rail. She was working the crowd surrounding the stage in the hot, packed room. At the end of her set and after she dressed she came and sat down briefly, probably because the empty chair at my table backed against the air conditioner.

  I had no illusions about that.

  She must have felt safe with me, because each time following her set she returned and each time we fell into an easy banter. I didn't torment her with personal questions nor did I ask for a date night. Dancers don't like personal questions, especially not from strangers, and especially not when they're on their break. Sitting half-naked in a hot, dark room full of men didn't encourage a woman in her line of work to get personal.

  When the bartender brought her drinks, I offered to pay for them, but she wouldn't let me.

  "I get them free. They're only coke."

  "I know that," I replied. "It's not my first time. The bartender can use the tips."

  It was early in the morning and her final set was coming up. That would be the last I'd see of her, since I couldn't be taking the air conditioner with me when I rode off. By then I figured she was comfortable enough with me so I asked if she would let me take some head shots the next day.

  She said yes.

  She arrived early for the shoot and introduced herself as Amy. In the back seat her daughter was peeking out the window at us. Following some small talk we drove to the river, but although the day was warm and bright the breeze blowing off the water made it feel cooler than it was.

  Amy was nervous at first, but as we kidded back and forth with each other she started to relax and began to warm to what I was doing.

  “Tell me some lies,” I told her.

  “I never lie,” she replied.

  “Well then, tell me the truth,” I continued.

  “I can’t do that either,” she said.

  The night before I had been fascinated by her hair—the cut, the color, the way she flipped the frosted front to and fro—but now I could see that it was to be her hands that would hold the most interest for me. I think she sensed that too, because she tried for a time to keep them hidden, and when she couldn't do that, she tried to keep them still.

  Towards the end of the shoot Amy was trusting enough to let her daughter play on her knee, knowing that I wouldn't be including her in the photos. On the cover shot, her daughter is leaning on her left knee, just outside of the frame.

  After about an hour, I had all I needed, so the three of us packed up and walked back to the parking lot.

  She signed the model release and got into her car.

  “I’ll be riding through again in about a month. I’ll stop by and catch another show,” I said.

  “That would be all right,” she answered.

  Better Than This

  I was road-weary. Sunburned. I reeked of asphalt perfume. It was time to get off the road and relax. Hell, maybe I'd even find a place to stay and a part-time job and settle down for a while.

  The blistering sun had scorched my head and arms. Fifteen hours of dust and grime protected me from it to some extent, but a shower and a good meal would go a long way towards tomorrow. I crossed the Kam River and in my mind I could see the huge lake to the southeast. I was a long way from the Taco Bell waitress from hell, but that's another story.

  In another 30 minutes I'd be in Big Thunder.

  Arthur Street had changed a lot over the years. Pizza parlors, restaurants, eat 'n' pukes and gas stations littered both sides now. There's no holding back the perception of progress.

  I pulled in and fueled up.

  On the spot I decided I was going to need a place to stay for a couple of days at least, maybe even a couple of weeks. I asked the gas jockey and he told me about a place on McCallum Street. He wasn't sure if it was still available, but it sounded good–clean, and in a fairly new house.

  "Hey man, thanks for the tip on the place to stay," I yelled, as I thundered out onto the street. Since it wasn't too late I figured on a drive-by of the place before crashing at a no-tell motel. I could always come back the next day and rent the room if it looked to be worth it.

  It looked good from the street-a newer two-story in an older neighborhood. There was a garage in the back. Perfect. I figured I'd check it out, and turned the ignition off as I rolled up the gravel driveway to the side door. I strolled around to the back lawn to have a look at the garage and came across a woman on a lawn chair.

  "Hello," she said, "I didn't hear you drive up. You must be here about the room for rent. I'm Sandy."

  "Hi, Sandy. I'm Frank. Yeah, I'm here about the room. Someone at the gas station mentioned it."

  "Would you like to see it? It's upstairs. C'mon, I'll take you."

  Sandy swung he
r legs over the edge of the recliner and leaned forward to stand up, giving me an opportunity for a good look past the top of her shirt down the cleft of her freckled breasts. She looked up at me and smiled a shy smile.

  "The room isn't very big, but it's furnished with a bed and a dresser and its right across from the bathroom."

  She brushed past me with her head down and waited at the door.

  "Come on in. It's upstairs."

  I followed her and watched the loveliest legs I had ever seen topped off by a pair of cutoffs walk up the stairs. She paused at the top and waited for me.

  "It's right here on the left. I told you it wasn't very big," she said. She was looking at me with dark brown eyes. Smiling.

  I gave the room a quick once-over.

  "That's all right. I'll take it," I said.

  I turned around and walked down the stairs and out the door to my ride. Sandy followed, and stopped at the door to watch me unpack. It didn't take me long. This old vagabond doesn't own much, and a couple of saddlebags and a rolled-up blanket holds it all.

  "I think there's too much space in the room for this," I said.

  She laughed. "Well, if you ever get the urge to add to your wardrobe, I'm sure there'll be enough room in that old dresser upstairs. There's a closet for you to fill too."

  She turned and went back inside.

  Damn! Those long legs were something else.

  The next day I was up early to check out the help-wanted ads in the local paper. Paying the rent had always been a problem. I never had enough money to stay on the road for too long either. When I was making good money it didn't help that I was always getting itchy feet for new sights and sounds just a little farther down the road.

  There were a couple of jobs worth taking a look at, but they were scattered around the city. I ended up walking down the street–an easy distance to the hospital–and found work. The job wasn't much–sweeping and washing floors mostly, and emptying trash bins. It would pay the bills for a while, and probably put some money in the bank for my ride south for the winter.

  With work and all I didn't see much of Sandy right away. I wondered why she was alone in such a huge place, but it was none of my business. With her good looks and those long shapely legs she probably wasn't lonely, judging by the late hours she kept coming home.