Old School (A Bad Boy Biker Romance) (17 page)

“It was ridiculous. She could have ruined my career. I mean, who wants to work with someone who has nails the color of orange juice? It's a fucking joke!” she ranted. Janey nodded sympathetically. “A total fucking joke. You tell them, sister.”

I decide that I should chime in too.

“Yeah, she could have ruined your life!” There was a little bit of sarcasm in my voice but it went on undetected. If they did sense it then they didn't comment on it. Instead, they both gave me concerned looks. I'd guessed that this was coming.

“So Lola, what happened with the magazine? Didn't it work out?” asked Allison, looking pityingly at me. Ah, so they though that I got fired because I was wandering around town in sweatpants on a weekday. At least I could set them straight there.

“No, it's working out really well actually. I just organized a really expensive photo shoot. My boss trusts me so much now that she's letting me work from home four days a week to save on the commute,” I explained. The two of them still looked doubtful, “I'll send you a free copy of the next issue if you need proof.”

My tone was slightly icy so they knew that they had pissed me off. They both insisted that that was OK and that they believed me but they kept exchanging looks.

“We're so happy for you, Lola. You've always been the creative one and I guess we never quite understood what you were doing with your life,” said Allison, innocently enough. By 'creative' she meant ridiculous and weird with no skills that a modern employer would actually value, but I decided to take the compliment where I could get it. I would take being creative over being boring any day. I bet when Janey and Allison's partners fucked them they only did missionary. It made me feel a little smug to know that was the one area where I probably did better. Then I thought of Vince and that feeling washed away.

“Yeah,” added Janey cheerily, “It must to finally have some stability! We were starting to worry about you.”

“Do you guys hold meetings about me when I'm not around our something?” I asked. They both laughed but I hadn't meant it as a joke at all. I crossed my arms. If they wanted to take me on then I was ready for it. I was tired of being treated like a silly little girl just because I had ambitions beyond what they could understand.

“Don't be silly! You just lead such an interesting life, what with all your different jobs and all of these crazy love affairs. We're both so boring that it's kind of like watching a Soap Oprah to us,” said Janey, before quickly adding, “And obviously, we admire you for it.”

They knew that they were walking on eggshells with me. Still, though we had known each other forever we didn't have the kind of friendship that involved being straight with each other when we were pissed off. It was stupid, but this was the way that things had always been. Even in high school Janey and Allison would make snide remarks about me spending the time that they were in the library hanging out with guys. I was just happy being a kid but they both seemed to have been born with sticks up their butts that could not be removed. Despite that, I never confronted them and they never confronted me. I just did my thing and the two of them disapproved. They probably always would, even if I became a millionaire.

“Thank, I think,” I said, and the two of them laughed at me. A waiter passed by and Janey nabbed him so that she could order me a coffee. When he left to go get it, she turned and smiled at me.

“What about that guy, Lola? He's cute huh? What do you think of him for Lola, Aly? Could you see them together?” she asked. Allison nodded eagerly.

“He's very cute. Definitely perfect for her. And he was totally looking at you, Lola.”

Oh god, they were pandering to me now. The waiter only looked at me because he wanted to know who the coffee was for. He wasn't cute either. He was nineteen at the most and looked bored out of his mind. This was probably the job he was doing to pay off his student loans and buy weed with at the weekends. They just liked the idea of setting me up and figured that anyone would do.

“Not my type,” I said politely. The two of them looked at each other again and I really wanted to slap them. How could they be so judgmental when they barely knew what was going on in my life? I wasn't that same kid from high school anymore. I was a grown woman and even if I didn't know exactly what I was doing all the time, I knew what was best for me. They didn't know shit though they acted like my concerned parents all of the time.

I saw the next question coming a mile off.

“How have your...casual relationships been going?” asked Allison. She raised her eyebrows when she said the word 'casual' as if it was insane. To her it probably was.

“Fine,” I said stubbornly. The waiter brought my coffee over and I began to focus all of my attention on that. It burned my tongue when I drank it but I didn't care. This experience was painful enough.

“That's great,” said Janey, “That's really great.”

“Your life seems perfect,” added Allison, “You must be so happy.” If only they knew.

Vince

Fucking other girls hadn't worked. I hadn't even managed to kiss another girl. My head was still filled with thoughts and memories of Lola that I just wanted to forget more than anything. There was only one cure for it. It wasn't booze and it certainly wasn't sex. It was my bike.

I had just finished working on a very special custom piece that I had been planning on selling. It was a classic Harley low rider from the late seventies that I'd bought for next to nothing from an old man because it didn't run anymore.

“It's irreparable,” he assured me, “I've been trying for years. But if you want it, you can be my guest.”

Restoring it to its former glory had been a massive job that seemed impossible to begin with. I had to replace a lot of parts and some of those parts weren't even being made anymore so I had to look all over the country for them. Brett had laughed at me when I started.

“You're wasting your time on that hunk of shit. The old bikes look cool but there's no way you can fix that.”

Luckily, I knew better than to listen to him. I worked on it little by little a within a year and a half it was in perfect working order. Almost every customer who came into the shop noticed it right away. A lot of them wanted to buy it, but I refused. I was saving it for a special buyer.

That buyer turned out to be me. I grabbed my favorite leather jacket, put on my helmet and told Brett not to wait for me. I needed to clear my head and if riding my bike was the only way I could do that, then so be it.

I started it up, feeling the adrenaline suddenly spike in my veins. Riding gave me a natural high that most drug addicts would kill for. It felt amazing to speed through the city streets on something so beautiful. How could I ever be sad again when I could experience this whenever I wanted? I didn't need girls. I didn't need booze. I didn't even need Lola. All I needed was a good bike and a dirt road and I could be happy.

I rode through the city for a while, enjoying the looks that people gave me as I flew past them. Almost all the males I saw looked impressed. Whether they were little boys or old men, they envied my freedom. I could go wherever I wanted. I had no ties to anyone or anything. Why hadn't I appreciated that more lately? The women just looked like they were wishing that I would stop for them, but I had no interest. This was my alone time. I hadn't realized how much I needed it until I got on that bike.

I found myself drawn to the open road, which happened to be where Lola had first ran me over. At the very least she taught me that I should wear a helmet, so that was something. As I passed that faithful spot I wondered what would have happened if she had missed me, or if I'd been run over by some poor old lady or an angry trucker instead. Fate seemed to have deemed it important that we met, so I wouldn't question that. Now Lola had deemed that we shouldn't see each other again and I wouldn't question that either.

I could be happy all by myself.

Lola

I somehow managed to get my beauty column, my album reviews and even a bonus article on asymmetrical haircuts done for Friday, despite my lack of inspiration. Jennifer hadn't checked in on me all week, which I took as a good sign. Just a little while ago if I had suggested that I should work from home she would have cackled in my face. Now she trusted me enough that she didn't feel the need to check in on me at all. It was weird to think that one little photo shoot had changed so much. I could have been eating Cheetos in my underwear and watching reality TV all week and she wouldn't have known. Not to say that I didn't do that, because I did, but only after I had gotten my writing done for the day. I took it as a compliment that she didn't seem to be worried about me. Anyway, why should she have been worried? I had proven that I could handle myself. I wasn't a nervous mess anymore. I was a fashion journalist. A good one.

It felt strange getting ready for work on Friday after spending my whole week sleeping in and lazily typing on my laptop. I almost forgot how to present myself professionally. Luckily I allowed myself time to get ready by setting my alarm early. By the time I got into my car I was wearing an elegant but casual sweater dress and my hair fell into perfect waves past my shoulders. Oh yes. This was what being professional felt like.

The drive to work was rather uneventful, though in my short time at home I had already forgotten how long it could be. It occurred to me that last time I'd made this drive that Vince had been in the passenger seat, but I quickly let that thought go. Today would be a good day. I wouldn't let Vince's bad vibes ruin it for me. I tossed my country CD aside and replaced it with one of the albums I'd had to review, which I'd actually grown to like since listening to it on repeat for a week. I sang along at the top of my lungs for the whole journey. It had always helped to calm me down at the beginning and end of a stressful work day.

When I arrived at work I realized that I was nervous, despite my recent success. Any time I had written an article in the past I had been under Jennifer's watchful eye. Every time she walked past my desk she would be able to point out five things she didn't like about what I had written without fail. Had I really improved so much that I didn't need that kind of supervision anymore? I would soon find out.

I walked into the building and pressed the button in the elevator for our floor. As it was ascending I rifled through what I had written during the week. While I was doing it I had felt very proud of myself and happy with what I was writing, but now I wasn't so sure. Was my tone too casual or not causal enough? What if my positive reviews of the albums pissed Jennifer off? I had no idea what to expect.

When I finally got to the main office everyone seemed to be busy working on their various projects. Tim was the only one who looked up at me, and even he only gave me a quick smile before returning to his work. There was no one I could procrastinate with. I had to see my boss and face the music.

I knocked on her office door and Jennifer answered right away. Luckily, she seemed to be in a good mood. She greeted me with a quick hug and invited me to sit down. I couldn't help but remember that this was the chair where Vince had sat during our last meeting. What on earth would she think if she knew that we had had sex on her desk? It was a funny thought but I knew that now wasn't the time to fantasize. It certainly wasn't the time to think about Vince.

“It's really good to see you, Lola. The photographer sent me the pictures from the shoot and I think that they turned out great,” said Jennifer, sitting down in her own chair, “Usually there's always a disaster or two during big shoots like this but it really went rather well, didn't it?”

I nodded.

“Yeah. Everyone worked really hard and it paid off,” I said. Jennifer seemed to like that I wasn't taking credit for the whole thing.

“Yes well, team work is very important. Anyway, before we talk about the shoot you better show me what you did during the week so that I know I made the right choice by letting you work from home,” she said, and then she laughed. I laughed along with her but the gleam in her eye told me that she wasn't kidding. It was Jennifer. Jennifer didn't kid.

“Of course. I did those assignments for you and I managed to do an extra article for the hair section if you feel like using it,” I said, pushing my papers across the desk. Jennifer's eyes widened and she actually looked impressed.

“You got all that done this week?” she asked. I hadn't thought it was that impressive, but maybe it was. What had I been so worried about? If this was all it took to keep Jennifer happy then it was simpler than I thought.

“Yeah, I sure did.”

She quickly scanned the pages with a smile on her face.

“Gosh this is all great stuff. How on earth did you manage all this along with the interview?” she asked. Oh shit. Interview? I had done a column, two reviews and an article. Nothing even resembling an interview. I didn't even remember being asked to do an interview. Maybe Jennifer was kidding.