Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Solcar - 9. Sturgis 2010
Tag – List of Words
turkey, gift, flowers, blue sweater, pen
“Happy thirty-first, Tony!”
“Thanks, Colt. This being over thirty shit is getting scary. Next thing you know, I’ll start getting gray hairs and grow a gut.”
“You turkey! We own a gym; guts aren’t allowed—bad example for the clients. But gray would look hot on you. Want coffee? Oh, and there’s a little gift for you on the nightstand, right next to the flowers. Wanted to do this in private before meeting everyone for brunch. And how the hell did we end up with almost forty people? It was meant to be a few close friends and your immediate family.”
“Don’t look at me, Kemo Sabe. The one person I invited was my baby brother. You’re responsible for all the others. So, what’s in the box?”
“Go ahead, open it.”
“A key to the door? What’s it made of? Weird metal. It doesn’t look like normal stuff.”
“It’s titanium, had it custom made. The strongest material I could find, so it’ll never break. We met almost a year ago, we spend almost every night together here, we should make it official―you need to move in. Keep the place in Brooklyn; it’s a great investment, and let your baby brother move there. He’ll love having his own place so he can bang his girls whenever he wants!”
”You pig! He already likes you. No need to suck up.”
“Sooooo… Whadda you say? Wanna take the next step? Gonna move in with me?”
“Give me a pen and tell me where to sign…”
•••
“Simmer down, Daytona. I know you’re excited, but it was a long day riding. I want to finish my drink and my cigar. Then we’ll head back to the motel room. I expect one of your great rub-downs and a nice slow fuck before going to sleep.”
“Sure thing. Sorry about being so hyper. I can’t believe we’re doing Sturgis this year; did you know they’re celebrating the 70th Anniversary of the rally? They expect over half a million bikers!”
What a way to start the week. We left Sioux Falls early in the morning yesterday and joined the convoy of scooters headed west on I-90. There must have been three or four bikes for every cage with four wheels rolling in the same direction. Flat and dull landscape most of the way, with some beautiful rolling hills now and then. Our favorite view, however, was the group of six German studs we ran into at a pit stop. While pumping gas, we introduced ourselves as all riding brothers do, and discovered we were staying at the same hotel in Keystone. We joined their group for the last segment of the ride.
We both wanted a shower before lunch and sightseeing after six hours on the road. There were plenty of eateries in the area, and most were full of bikers already. The ten-minute ride to Mount Rushmore National Memorial took quite a bit longer than it was supposed to; we made frequent stops to enjoy the majestic views of the Black Hills National Forest. Both our hotel and the Memorial sat right in the middle of the Forest. The first view of the carved mountain made me smile; years of seeing its image all over the place could not compare to the imposing sight in front of me. We stopped on the side of the road, as did plenty of other riders, to snap pictures of ourselves with the four Presidents behind us.
At the Memorial, we ran into our German friends and spent the remainder of the afternoon with them. Two of them were a married couple, and we hit it off really well. So well, in fact, their room remained empty for the night. The king-sized bed in ours accommodated us in perfect comfort. All being versatile, the possible combinations were many, and we tried them all out. One of those boys is porn star material. He went where no man had gone before. I gave him a few extra hard thrusts in return to make up for the size difference.
“Daytona, how’ ya doin’ after last night and the ride this morning? Betcha’re still feeling that big boy, ain’t ya?”
“Fuck you! If I recall, you grimaced when he first skewered you. Although you did bounce back real quick and kept asking him for more.”
“Yeah, well, it was hot and fun, but I wouldn’t want a regular diet of his jumbo-sized sausage. You wanna walk over to the Harley store and start there?”
”Yeah, that works. I wanna get my HOG rally pin at their tent, and need I to buy a t-shirt or three for the collection.”
“What did you think of the ride through the Badlands?”
“It was abso-fucking-lutely epic! Man, what a weird-looking landscape! Betcha they’ve filmed movie scenes there, using it as some other world.”
“I think it’s cool how each National Park we’ve visited over the past few years is so unique. Oh shit! Skank alert, Daytona, skank alert. And she’s headed our way.”
“Fuck! Would you look at her? The bikini top can’t hold her saggy tits, her belly folds over the edge of her micro daisy dukes, and wassup with those roller skates?”
“This is gonna be fun. She’s headed right for you, boy. You’re on your own here.”
“Hi, guys. You boys having fun?”
“Howdy, so far we are, ma’am.”
“So polite, I like that. What’s your name, handsome? I love a hot biker with sexy tattoos, and that’s some great script on your chest. You should walk around without a shirt all the time. The dark hair and green eyes don’t hurt your looks either, stud.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but going shirtless would be a problem back home in Thunder Bay during winter. Might get a bit cold.”
“Oh, I’d be happy to keep you warm, sexy. How about we let your friend there walk around for a while by himself, and you and I go get to know each other better?”
“Sorry, ma’am, but he’s not just my friend. He’s my husband.”
“WHAT? YOUR HUSBAND? JESUS H. CHRIST, IS EVERY GOOD-LOOKING GUY A GODDAMNED HOMO? YOU FUCKING FAGGOTS SHOULD ALL GET AIDS AND DIE! MOTHERFUCKERS SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED OUT WITH NORMAL PEOPLE.”
“Come on, Daytona. Time to get away from the crazy lady. Let’s walk into the dealership. They won’t let her in while she’s screaming.”
It’s been over three months, yet the tears come anytime. Mom and Dad have been great, as have my two brothers. They all want me to spend Thanksgiving at home, but I can’t do it. Not much to be thankful for.
He was right that day. We walked into the Harley shop and lost the woman. They didn’t allow her inside when she wouldn’t stop her rant. The rest of the afternoon, we spent checking out cool bikes and hot men all over the place. We bought some pins and patches for our vests and jackets and had a few beers to quench the thirst.
After dinner, we met up with our two German studs and a husband and wife from Casper. They’d all met in town during the day, and the Wyoming couple wanted to tag along for the evening. Their oldest son was gay and married, and they felt just fine spending time with four gay men. We saw our nemesis from earlier, but even though we were stared at for a while, she remained quiet.
As we left the saloon sometime after midnight, we noticed her again. She was slumped over the wheel of a pickup truck, sleeping it off already, we guessed. It was a beautiful night; the day's heat had receded, and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves on the trees. Over our heads, a sky full of stars shone almost as bright as our contented smiles. Life was good.
We were riding at a pretty good clip, but no more than ten miles over the speed limit, when I noticed headlights in the rearview mirror. We both slowed down a bit to make it easier for the speeding vehicle to overtake us. As it passed, I glanced over and saw her―an evil smile on her face.
After slamming into us, the woman careened off the road, rolled down the embankment, and broke her neck as she flew through the windshield. I spent two weeks in the hospital recovering from surgery to repair assorted damage to my body. My husband’s ashes flew home with me.
•••
Tony was already asleep as a result of too many tequila shots. Colton was wrapped up in his blue sweater, sitting in front of the fire, reading from the small leather-bound book. And once again, the tears came. Each one shed, just another drop in a never-ending waterfall.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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