Chapter 5

I decided to head north for the summer. We were hunting for food and drink just outside of Traverse City, Michigan when we spotted a little grocery store. Next door was a bar with a bunch of motorcycles parked out front. No one was outside milling around, which I took as a good sign and decided to head into the grocery.

When we emerged from the store, I was carrying two bags and Kristy was sipping from a glass bottle of orange juice. Her sleeveless T-shirt pulled tight over her breasts and failed to cover the top of her jeans, giving the world a glimpse of her soft, flat tummy. A scruffy, powerfully built man in motorcycle gear standing out front of the grocery let out a wolf whistle and called out: "That is one hot bitch!"

Kristy walked past the man without looking but he grabbed her arm leering aloud, "come'on honey, why don't you ride with a real man?"

Kristy slung her bottle in a wide arc and smashed the guy's nose. He screamed as the blood and orange juice squirted over Kristy and the sidewalk.

"Kristy," I yelled out of fear of the consequences, "don't kill him!"

"Kill me?" the bloody asshole screamed through his hand, "I'm gonna fucking kill her!" A quick glance showed his buddies making their way over from the bar to check out the action or to back up their friend.

I started to step back around the front of the car to pull Kristy away when macho man pulled back his elbow to throw a punch at Kristy's face. She eased out of the path of the flying fist, grabbed the wrist and wrenched the guy's arm behind his back.

It was better than the movies, until the next scene, when Kristy slammed her victim face down onto the hood of an old red Camaro, setting off the car alarm. In the midst of the bleeting alarm, Kristy followed the guy down with her face.

I screamed out "No" but the man was already bellowing out in pain. Kristy stood up with a piece of the guy's ear in her mouth. With blood on her lips, she took aim and like a champion watermelon seed spitter, spit the bloody cartilage at the bikers drawing near, who literally jumped back.

She gave them an evil smile and matter-of-factly walked to car and let herself in. I was wavering as much as the car alarm, when I ran to the car, hit the starter, and flew out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust and gravel.

Kristy reached into the glove compartment for an alcohol wipe and cleaned her face in the courtesy mirror on the sun visor. When she was satisfied that she was clean, including checking her teeth, she reached back and fished through the plastic bag for the baby carrots and proceeded to munch on the vegetables as if nothing had happened. Cold, really cold. Fortunately, the view in the rearview mirror remained empty.

I didn't stop the car until after we crossed over the bridge into the Upper Peninsula. A "help wanted" sign was staked in front of house surrounded by a cherry tree orchard and it caught my attention. As I eased the car into the driveway, a woman with long blond hair tied up in a pony tail came around from the back of the house with a hoe in her hand.

Kristy and I both popped out the car and made our way towards her. She was definitely not an earth mother; her jeans and T-shirt, which was torn, were dirty and worn. The woman looked like she was all muscle and she didn't even look thirty.

"Saw the 'help wanted' sign out front," I began as we drew near.

She looked us up and down a few times without saying a word. "Room, board, and $50 a week," was her reply.

I grinned, Kristy grinned and that was how we met Angela.