Club Princess - Nicole James Page 0,26

to scramble on, Johnny in the lead.

Davy is the last in line, and pauses with one foot on the step to turn back and look at Memphis. “Thank you.”

Memphis lifts his chin. “You have a good day, son.”

Davy climbs on, and the door swings shut. The bus lumbers away, its diesel engine leaving a plume of smoke as we watch it disappear around a corner with Davy’s face pressed to the glass.

I glance back to see Memphis holding his hand up in a wave, and I feel a knot in my throat. I can’t help letting him know what I’m thinking. “What you just did—it meant a lot to that kid. ”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t argue or brush it off as nothing, like I half expect him to do, and I know he realizes just how much he changed that kid’s day, week, maybe even life.

“Why did you do it?” Maybe it’s an asshole question, but his actions surprise me.

“I was that kid once,” he admits softly, his eyes meeting mine.

I don’t know what I’m expecting him to say, but it isn’t that—not such a personal confession. My mouth drops open, but I have no words. I can’t reconcile it with the biker he is.

This man is so not what I expected.

“Come on. We need to get on the road.”

I follow him across the street to the bike, and we mount up, and pull out without another word. As we head toward the interstate, I tighten my hold around his body, and lean my head on his back, thinking of that little boy and what Memphis did for him.

Before we hit the interstate, he turns off and parks in front of a storefront shop. I glance up, wondering why he stopped.

He looks over his shoulder at me. “Think you can find a change of clothes in this place?”

I stare up at the window. Ella’s Chic Boutique.

“Maybe.”

We climb from the bike, and walk inside. Its a young, hip place where college-aged girls probably shop. There’s a small sofa, and Memphis plops down while I move to the racks along the wall, flipping hangers along the rod.

I find a couple of shirts and a pair jeans, and dig some panties and a bra out of a lingerie display in the back.

A girl directs me to a changing room behind a curtain, and I try the shirts and pants on. They’ll work. I dress, and push the curtain back.

Memphis stands. “Ready?”

I nod, and he moves with me to the counter, pulling a credit card from his wallet. It comes to almost two hundred dollars, but he doesn’t blink at the amount.

“You want to wear any of it?” he asks.

I nod, and return behind the curtain to change. I come out with my dirty clothes in the bag, and we walk out to the bike.

Memphis stashes it in a saddlebag, and we get back on the road.

It’s a long ride before we stop again, and then it’s just a quick stop to gas up. I climb off the bike, and pull my helmet off. Memphis swings his leg over, and stands, digging in his pocket. He pulls out a money clip, peels off a twenty, and holds it out to me, lifting his chin to the mini-mart.

“Get yourself a drink or whatever you want.”

I take the bill. “You want something?”

He unscrews the cap in his gas tank, lifts the nozzle from the pump, and shoves it in the opening. “I’ll take a Mountain Dew and a bag of chips.”

I stroll inside and use the restroom, then grab his items, and get a water and banana from the small basket of fruit by the register. When I walk outside, Memphis has parked the bike at the edge of the property; both our helmets dangle from the handlebar. He’s reclined in the grass under the shade of a tree. His eyes follow me as I approach and hand him his items.

“Thanks, doll.”

I take a seat next to him, and as he cracks open his bottle and guzzles down a third of it, I watch his throat work with each gulp. I grin. “Thirsty?”

He lowers the bottle. “Yup.”

I peel the banana, and take a bite, watching the cars come and go. I feel his eyes on me, and turn to find him watching my mouth as I take another bite.

He gets a stupid grin on his face, and I know what he’s thinking. I shove his shoulder. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

He chuckles. “Can’t help it.