Love at 11 - By Mari Mancusi Page 0,48

from the comfort of my couch. Maybe I’d even order pizza. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning.

“I’m ready when you are,” I said.

He nodded and started walking toward the road where he’d parked his bike. I followed behind, not quite able to keep up with his speedy pace. Wow, he really was in a hurry to get the hell out of Dodge.

When I caught up, I found him frantically looking up and down the desert road, sheer panic written on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, scrunching up my eyes in confusion.

Then it hit me. I, too, looked up and down the road, panicked.

Oh shit.

“Jamie, where’s your motorcycle?”

CALLA VERDA STOLEN PROPERTY REPORT

NAME: Jamie Hayes DATE: 4/15

OFFICER: Bradley

AREA OF INCIDENCE: About two miles from Calla Verda, Route 8

PROPERTY STOLEN: Triumph Rocket Motorcycle

INFORMATION: Owner of said property, Mr. Hayes, claims he and his work colleague Ms. Madison were on assignment undercover at a local rave. (Please note they have no Press Pass to back up this story and only a funny-looking home video camera, which they claim they use for “undercover work.” They are also disgustingly dirty with mud in their hair. As if News 9 would hire people like that!) They ended up spending the night at said Rave even after shooting was finished. (For a reason they are unclear on.) They woke the next morning and learned that above mentioned property was nowhere to be seen. They claim they walked two miles back to Calla Verda to report the incident.

SIGNATURE: R. J. Bradley, Detective

Chapter Ten

I wanted to throw up.

Maybe it was coming down from the Ecstasy. Maybe it was due to my lack of food for the last twenty-four hours. Maybe it was the fierce, angry sun that had toasted my skin to a crisp.

Whatever the reason, after the two-mile walk back to Calla Verda, I literally felt sick.

Jamie didn’t look much better. Pale faced, save the black circles under his eyes, he looked depressed. Defeated. And why wouldn’t he? He loved that bike and now it was gone. He must have felt like God had come down and swept it up as punishment for his sins.

“You have insurance, right?” I’d asked on the long walk back. Not a car in sight to beg a ride from.

He shrugged his shoulders slowly, as if each weighed two tons. “Sure. But the bike’s a few years old. They’re not going to give me enough to buy a new one.”

“I’m sorry,” I said for the umpteenth time.

“It’s not your fault,” Jamie replied automatically. But he thought it was. I could see it in his eyes. The way he balled his hands into fists when he answered my apology.

I gave up and we spent the rest of the walk in silence. When we got to Calla Verda, we hit the local police/fire/ambulance all-in-one building. Behind the glass reception window, the officer in charge, an obese man, stuffed like a sausage in his uniform casing, took one look at our dusty, dirty appearance and pointed down the hall.

“Methadone clinic is to your right,” he said.

“We’re not here for methadone,” said Jamie in a tight voice. “My motorcycle was stolen.”

The officer snorted. “Oh, well then. That’s different. Let me call out the National Guard. Yessiree.” He shook his head, chucking to himself. “You city kids. You kill me. If I had myself a dollar for every one of you who walked through that door with a missing bike …”

Well, that wasn’t very encouraging. I watched as Jamie bit his lower lip and could see frustration radiating from his body.

“I know the chances of finding it are next to none,” he said in a tight voice. “But I need to file a police report so I can show it to the insurance company.”

“Well, thank you kindly, sir, for telling me how to do my job, then.” The officer rolled his eyes and grudgingly got off his fat ass to walk over to the far wall. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and sat back down. “Good thing you city kids watch a lot of Miami Vice or we’d all be in trouble.”

What an asshole!

“A little behind on your Must See TV, are we?” I interjected, not able to take the hick cop’s rudeness any longer. “Miami Vice’s probably been off the air longer than I’ve been alive. But I guess news travels slow out here in East Bumfuck.”

“Maddy,” Jamie hissed. “Be quiet.”

“Watch your attitude, Missy,” the cop growled back. “Or I’ll have to call the