Chapter 4: Into the Night

Matt stood beside the bed as his guest emerged from beneath the haphazard pile of blankets and pillows, watching her as she stretched her arms above her head and yawned widely, rubbing her eyes as she looked up at him. She was still nude, her body hidden beneath the sheets, and she had a case of bed hair that made her look like she was wearing a wig made out of bird’s nests. The pair of thick curtains that covered the window made the bedroom gloomy, the light beyond casting its shadows on the wooden floor.

“Morning, or should I say afternoon,” he said. He placed a tray across her lap, upon which was a plate of bacon and eggs along with a glass of juice and some slices of toast. “I thought you might want some breakfast.”

She eyed the food for a moment, then a smirk brightened her groggy expression, and she took up the fork.

“You’re gonna give me diabetes, kid. By the way, do you ... happen to know where my clothes are?”

“Probably still in the living room,” he replied, “I’ll go fetch them for you.”

“Wait,” she said, talking with a forkful of scrambled eggs in her mouth. “What time is it?”

“It’s about four in the afternoon,” he said as he paused by the door, “I guess we got kind of carried away last night. I don’t think we went to bed until maybe seven AM.”

Her expression darkened as she chewed on a strip of bacon, seeming steeped in thought.

“Thanks for the breakfast kid, but I gotta get going soon.”

“A-Already?” Matt stammered, apprehension twisting his guts. “I thought we might at least spend a few hours together today.”

“I told you that I was pressed for time. I gotta be out of this town before nightfall. I’m sorry kid, I’d like to stay longer ... but I’m on a schedule.”

“Yeah ... yeah, I know. I knew this was going to be a temporary thing going in, I just ... I’ll go get your clothes.”

She returned to her food, glancing up as he turned his back and disappeared through the doorway, not wanting him to see the trembling of her lip. They had really hit it off, he was a great kid and knowing that she would have to leave soon made her heart sink. She had already played things too loose, she should have set off already. He was smitten with her, and she knew that leaving would hurt him, but it was for his own good.

Maybe leading him on had been cruel, but she hadn’t planned for this. She had hoped that things wouldn’t have gotten serious with the kid, but he was young and naive, and maybe she had secretly hoped that this would happen despite herself. Anything for a taste of normalcy, anything just to feel the warmth of another person again, to be wanted.

It couldn’t be, however. She preferred Matt brokenhearted rather than dead.

Matt followed her out of the house, Smoke trailing behind them as they stopped beside her bike, the woman swinging her leg over the motorcycle with her crash helmet clasped under her arm. The sun was getting low in the sky, casting its golden rays over the treetops and painting the horizon in beautiful shades of pink and orange.

“So ... will I ever see you again?” Matt asked sheepishly, Smoke sitting at his feet as the Husky looked between the two of them. “You can’t give me a number? Not even a name?”

“It ain’t my choice, kid. I feel bad about it, believe me, but I’m-”

“Pressed for time, I know. Can you at least tell me why? You act like the devil is on your heels. If you’re running from trouble or something, maybe there’s a way that I can help?”

She reached up with a gloved hand and took him by the collar, pulling him in for a kiss, his worries melting away for a brief moment as her lips met his. Her tongue coiled in his mouth, slow and placating, almost conciliatory as her gentle strokes made his heart leap in his chest. She broke off, sliding her helmet over her head and snapping down the tinted visor.

“For what it’s worth, this is the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time. You’re a good kid, keep up the cooking and work off that debt. Maybe the next time I come through here, there’ll be an English pub in the place of that throwback diner.”

Matt nodded, stepping back as she kicked her ignition, the bike’s powerful engine roaring to life as Smoke scampered away from it to hide behind his master’s legs. She revved it, but the rumbling purr petered out into an unhealthy chugging before finally going silent. Matt didn’t know anything about motorcycles or engines, but even he could tell that this hollow clanking wasn’t normal. The woman leaned over to get a look at the exposed engine, cursing to herself.

“Shit shit shit, fuck. Not now, not now!”

She hopped off the bike and kneeled beside it, pulling off her helmet and placing it beside her on the dirt. She reached towards the metal and then cursed loudly, waving her hand as the hot engine burned her through her glove. Her frustration was palpable. Matt was almost afraid to offer help, watching her as she pounded the bike with her fist.

“Er ... engine trouble?” he asked.

She turned to look at him over the shoulder of her leather jacket, the expression on her face almost one of pain.

“Tools, you got tools here?”

“In the garage maybe, but I don’t drive, and I don’t know my way around an engine. That was more my dad’s area of expertise.”

“Where?”

He pointed towards a structure that adjoined the house with a sliding door on its face, and she rose to her feet, practically sprinting to cover the distance as her long hair billowed out behind her. Just what the hell was so urgent? She didn’t just want to ditch him, nobody treated a walk of shame like a life or death scenario, something was really wrong. He couldn’t for the life of him imagine what.

He followed her over to the garage as she crouched by the door, hooking her fingers under it and raising it through strength alone, her biceps visible through the tight material of her jacket. She rushed inside as Matt slipped in behind her, watching as she scanned the room frantically.

The garage was full of gardening tools and spare parts, his dad’s old 1968 Camaro taking up most of the space, draped in a protective cover and with its engine block sitting to one side. The space was coated in dust and cobwebs after years of neglect. Matt had no use for it, and his father hadn’t worked on the car for a solid decade, another money-wasting project that had quickly been abandoned.

The woman searched for a few minutes, becoming increasingly agitated, before finally locating a toolbox. She brought it outside and placed it beside her helmet on the ground, popping it open and sifting through the tools that had been haphazardly stored inside.

“Do you know what the problem is?” Matt asked, hovering nearby. “We could always walk it down to the garage in town, wouldn’t take more than an hour or two.”