Ride to Redemption (11 page)

Chapter
16

G
io
and Mile were waiting for us as we exited the hotel's elevator. “Did you like
Mt. Rushmore?” I asked Mile slowly, receiving a puzzled look. “President’s
faces, you like?”

“Yes
much, how you say, very much?” She seemed pleased with their trip.

“And
you, Gio. Did you like?”

“Too
much walking,” confessed Gio.

“I
can relate,” I replied, “Be thankful you didn’t have to go to the top of the
mountain with an angry woman in tow.” Candi shared a very pronounced scowl.

“See,”
I laughed. “We had a good time, too.”

The
two saw little humor in the conversation and elected to blow it off. We
exchanged ideas about our upcoming rides and made some dinner plans for our
roll through the historic old mining town of Lead. Once fed, we traversed
through Spearfish, SD, and then rode off to the looming and frighteningly tall
Devils Tower — a rock monolith rising over 1200 feet straight up out of
the Wyoming landscape. President Teddy Roosevelt turned it and the 1300 acres
that encompass it into a National Monument in the early 1900’s.

“Gio,
what do you think?” I asked.

“Can
we ride to top?”

“Nope,
we can climb it, but there are no roads or trails to speak of to get there.
Sioux, Cheyenne and Kiowa Indians have held this place sacred for thousands of
years. Don’t have a clue if they climbed it. Did you ever see Close Encounters
of the Third Kind?” I asked Candi as she nodded yes. “Part of it was filmed
here,” I announced proudly. Google strikes again.

“Let’s
go. I can tell none of you are overly impressed. It’s a little over three hours
to Sheridan, WY, where we’re staying tonight. This entire downtown area reminds
me of what a western town should look like. If you really like the wild, Wild
West, I’ll take you to King’s Saddlery and the Don King Museum in the morning.
Saddles and ropes from every era are in the museum, along with pictures, guns
and Indian artifacts from the mid to late 1800’s. It’s a great place to stop.

After
some discussion, we all agreed to roll in that direction. Unfortunately, the
ride to Sheridan was a wet one. Just east of Gillette, Wyoming, we ran into a
storm we could not escape. Thankfully, Candi and I had already broken in our
rain gear, but the Italians fumbled through unpacking their clothes to reach
their waterproof gear. Naturally, it was stowed in the bottom of their bags and
cost them some soggy attire in the process of finding it.

Averaging
no more than 60 mph in this torrential rainstorm, we rolled into Sheridan
around 7 p.m. Given the circumstances, we were none the worse for wear.

The
girls instantly chose to head to the hotel rooms and grab a hot bath, while I
persuaded Gio to ride with me for a burger and beer at the Pony Up Grill. Guys
seem to deal with the elements better than our counterparts. Guess it helps to
know there is a cold beer waiting somewhere to take the edge off an all-day wet
ride.

“Gio,”
I asked halfway through the second longneck, “is Bozeman as far as you’re
going?”

“Not
sure,” he replied. “We have bikes two weeks. Mile want go to Yellowstone Park,
hmmm ... Jackson Hole, and I see Glacier Park and ride highway to sky.”

“I
think it’s called going to the sun road. I’ve been there and it’s a good ride.
You’ll enjoy it.”

“You
go?” Gio asked.

“As
a matter of fact, we intend to, but I’ve got a few stops to make along the
way.”

“Are
the roads here like Texas?” Gio asked again, matter of fact.

I
give up, I thought. “No, Sir. Texas, for the most part is flat. Yes, it is a
part of the west, but geographically it is much different than here.”

Gio
continued his line of questioning. “Did you live on the ocean?”

“I
lived near the ocean, but not on it,” I said, finally accepting the fact that
he really did want to know more about Texas, regardless of the fact that I
lived in Tennessee.

“Did
you have secret hideaway in Texas where you took lady friends?” he plied.

I
was more confused than ever by his continued prying into my past and the state
of Texas. I asked him what the hell Texas had to do with the old west? “Sure,
it’s west, but not northwest. I’ll tell you what I know of it, but I live in
Tennessee. Tennessee, got it?”

“
Mi
scusi,
D, not mean to upset you. I just like Texas, I guess.”

“Finish
your beer, Gio,” I relented, “I’m going to the room.”

He
understood my displeasure and finished up. We made our way back to the hotel to
dry ourselves out.

I
walked in on a half-eaten club sandwich scattered across a room service tray, a
half-empty bottle of merlot and Candi sound asleep. Snuggling up next to her, I
stayed awake long enough to ask myself the following questions. Why was Gio so
preoccupied with my Texas ramblings? It just didn’t seem to make sense. And
just what in the grand scheme of things does Candi continue to see in me? After
racing through at least 20 possible scenarios, none of which I was willing to
accept, sleep caught up with me and won. I had a definite feeling, though, that
I’d find out the answers to most of my questions all too soon — and I was
pretty certain I wouldn’t care for my findings.

Awakened
ever so softly by a noise unfamiliar to me, I soon pleasantly discovered warm,
wet lips gently nibbling my ear lobe, while a voice whispered urgent pleadings
in my ear. “I need an ‘O’ baby. I need an ‘O’ right now! But this time, we’re
not going to be near or on anything moving. D, you’re not going to use your
hands, you’re going to do this LTO.”

“LTO?”
I asked, trying to envision just what Candi could possibly mean so early in the
morning. Licking my earlobe again and probing my ear deeply with her tongue
brought her early morning definition of LTO — lips and tongue only.

To
prove I could follow even the most subliminal of directions, I kissed and
caressed Candi’s neck, breasts and the curves of her stomach, finally centering
on her navel. Reciprocating in kind was the least I could do, to make my
intentions known, before I delved into the inner most regions of this fine
specimen of a woman. With no hands at my disposal to push, pull, lift, probe or
spread, my lips and tongue were tasked with the mission of bringing forth an O.
Being one to always try and relish the moment, I chose to apply the version,
that light is better, while even lighter is best.

Flicking
my tongue ever so gently, I soon came to envision my tongue as the lightest of
feathers where even the slightest touch is felt, sensationally more. Wrapped in
the moment, I whispered, “Feel the sharpness of my tongue, now the softness? Do
you feel me licking the nectar that flows from you? Do you feel the flatness of
my tongue pressed against you?”

Candi
nodded wistfully, while biting the inside of her lower lip, over, and over
repeatedly. Stopping again to breath, I whispered, just barely audible to her,
“If you want me to take you over the top, you have to beg me when you can’t
take it anymore.”

Obediently
she nodded; obediently she complied, as my tempo increased to match the
sensations pulsating through her body. “Now, baby, now! More!” she pleaded.

Wrapping
my lips expertly around her most sensitive spot, I pulled her into my mouth
with such force that Candis’ legs began to quiver while her fingers clawed into
the sheets trying to hold back the O that was well on its way. Bucking,
pressing, pushing and pulling my face into her as deep as our anatomical features
would allow, Candi exploded, releasing rolling waves of pleasure brought forth
by my newly refined LTO’s. Her sweat beaming from her brow, her legs quivering
involuntarily, her breathing labored but deep, I was totally enthralled in this
glorious moment of hers. Mission accomplished.
Breathe, D! Breathe.

“Baby,
thank you! Thank you!” she panted. “Now it’s your turn … just let me glow a
minute more.”

“Thank
you, Princess, for the offer, but I left it all on the bed. This morning was
all about you. I am content, totally spent and my cup runneth over in you.”

After
some quiet snuggling beneath the sheets, I gave her my plans for this morning.
“I’ve got to run to FedEx this morning, before we leave. Gather up whatever
clothes you want me to send back, and I’ll take them with me.”

“How
many packages this time?” Candi asked, with some trepidation in her voice.

“Enough,”
I replied abruptly, as I headed for the shower alone. I wasn’t up for another
interrogation this morning. I finished cleaning myself up, and grabbed my
things to go.

Candi
looked up at me as I entered the room. “D? Just where did you come up with the
names for all these people?”

“Would
you believe me if I said the Internet?”

“It’s
not easy to choke that one down, but go on.
 
Why are you being so vague?”

“Because
what I’m doing is bigger than the two of us. For now, the less you know the
better.”

“Plausible
deniability?”

“I
guess so, Candice. At least for now,” I replied, walking out the door. As I
pulled the door shut, I caught Candi out of the corner of my eye. A crafty and
inquisitive glare was coming from her eyes like burning embers. I must say, I
like the burning lust in her eyes a heck of a lot better than that piercing
glare of hers.

I
tuned out the emotion floating inside me and focused on my job at hand. Three
down, three to go, I thought. If I had just kept Candi out of this entire
operation, I wouldn’t be feeling so lousy right now.

We
all do things we’re not proud of throughout the course of our lives, and we
justify these actions to ourselves when we can’t or won’t face the truth. The
truth is, what I’m doing is legally wrong, but the justification lies in the
morality of it all. I believe my actions to be the lesser of two evils.
Frankly, a judge and jury would both have trouble finding a way to wrap their
head around this one. Right and wrong are bucking heads at every turn. Candi
and I are also butting heads lately, too. I feel the overwhelming need to end
this part of my hot mess very, very soon.

All
this butting heads is making me sore.

Chapter
17

F
ate,
I suppose comes to mind, but I do have quite a few sleepless nights, wondering
if I chose the right people to be re-compensated. What if I was grossly misled?
All that I’ve really had to go on was their initial financial portfolios they
provided when they signed on with this crook. Their current history was minimal
in my evaluation. What if many were not so forthcoming with the truth? All I
can say is that I’ve done the best with what I have to work with. And, I’ve
asked each of these fortunate few to use what they need to heal and give the
rest away. How many will do that, I have no clue. But that’s the best I can do,
period.

Gio,
Mile and Candi were standing in the lobby carrying on a very spirited
conversation in Italian when I returned. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt
whatever it is you’re discussing, but we need to get on the road.”

“We
go saddle store?” asked Mile.

“The
first stop,” I replied.

I
packed our bags and helped Mile strap down hers, while Gio and Candi continued
their discussion outside. I was getting quite perturbed with all their
incessant chatting. I enjoy conversation like the next guy, but their talks are
too frequent and lengthy to suit me. This isn’t just a joy ride for me.

“Guys,
you can talk all day if you want, but it’s best we do it on the road. Candi,
you are welcome to ride with Gio. Gio, you won’t mind, will you?”

That
last statement must have made a point, because their conversation abruptly
halted, with Candi making her way to me. Grasping my arm and pulling me out of
earshot, Candi huffed, “That was totally uncalled for.”

“Not
from where I’m standing, it’s not, seems like every time the two of you get
together, you have some sort of personal agenda, which since I do not speak
Italian, I'm not privy to. I do, however, read facial expressions and for
someone we’ve 'JUST MET,' you seem all too familiar. Care to fill me in?”

Just
as Candi was about to answer, Mile appeared, grabbing my arm and pulling me
back toward the bikes. “We go now.”

It
was the second or third time that a long-sought answer from Candi was abruptly
interrupted. Timing is everything, I thought, and with it brings nothing.

I
stewed on that conversation, as Candi hopped on my bike. I guess she would not
be riding with Gio after all. We drove down north Main Street and found a
parking spot right in front of the store. I backed in rear wheel to curb, with
Gio and Mile following suit.

“Good
job, D,” complimented Gio, “you take us good places and find us good park
places, too.”

“Thank
you, I guess.” My demeanor still was not chipper.

We
wandered through the store and museum with Candi saying little. Gio and Mile
bought over $500 worth of souvenirs, which King’s graciously agreed to ship
back to Milan.

“We
like,” smiled Mile, “You like?”

“I
do very much, but I’m in no mood to shop right now.” I looked directly at Candi
and showed my discontent, “maybe later.”

After
an eternity of shopping, in a man’s eyes, we loaded up, fueled up and headed
west on Highway 14 out of Sheridan toward the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway, hoping
to at least ride a portion of Beartooth Highway and be in Cooke City, MT,
before nightfall. Breathtaking, stunning, exhilarating — just a few of
the words used to describe the Beartooth Mountains and Byway, according to
Frommer’s Travel Guide. Voted number one in Highways across the U.S, this road
is a must-see for sightseers. Since this will be my fourth trip following this
route, I’ve found it can be 80 degrees and sunny in Sheridan, then drop to the
30’s and be snowing by the time we reach the Beartooth pass, almost 11,000 feet
in elevation.

My
last trip across the Beartooth was in the M3. You can see the winding road
before you, miles in advance after you cross the pass. With no cars in sight, I
managed to push the envelope to the limit, hitting 140 mph on the descent,
without ever experiencing one degree of fade in the sweeping lazy S curves.
Corvettes fade, Z’s fade, Mercedes fade, but this sweet ride stuck to the
pavement like super glue.

Gio,
with his camera rolling was lost in his own world, filming non-stop across the
St. Joseph Byway to the Beartooth. With a tap on my shoulder, I knew it was
break time for Candi … and me, too, for that matter.

We
pulled into a gas station and mini-market combination with Gio and Mile
following my lead.

“We
need to fuel up, grab a snack and break out the cold weather gear,” I informed
the group before they all headed off in different directions. Gio, now laughing
at me, asked why we would need coats.

“Snow,”
I announced, a universal word, which, by now seemed sufficient.

Just
as Gio pulled off his riding coat, I caught a glimpse of an ivory pistol grip
sticking out of his belt. Stunned, I walked up to him and patted the concealed
weapon he was carrying in a hide-away holster and said, “Seriously?”

“Bears,”
was his lone-word answer, to evidently mimic my previous one-word reply.

For
the moment, his answer, just as my previous one, would suffice … but only for
the moment.

Candi
and Mile returned from doing whatever girls do together during their bathroom
time, when I motioned for Candi to follow me back into the store. “What kind of
snacks would you like, baby?” I asked within hearing range of our two
companions. Before Candi could answer, we’d already stepped in the door, and I
jerked her aside.

“Just
who in the hell is Gio? And why is he carrying a gun?”

Speechless,
Candi stammered and stuttered trying to string words together to make a
sentence; words which I probably did not want to hear.

“His
family gives him that right,” she finally blurted out.

“My
family does not give me that right,” I said, “but my state government does.” I
reached into my wallet and pulled out my concealed weapon permit to show her.
“Just because he’s from Italy doesn’t give him that right here.” But even as I
completed my sentence, I was starting to get the picture already. Guns and
Italians mix well in certain circles.

“The
Mafia?”

“Yes
… and keep your voice down, okay?”

“Oh
good, we’re riding with the mafia,” I exclaimed in exasperation. “That’s just
what I need. No wonder his ass keeps asking me about Texas. We’re screwed, let
me rephrase that, I’m screwed. Just how long have you known this?”

“From
the beginning,” she said sheepishly.

“Joy!
Pure joy …” I was almost growling my words at this point. “And when were you
going to tell me?”

“Remember,
I said it was a long story.”

“I
do, and I also remember how evasive you were when I asked you what was so
important about his last name.”

“I
didn’t know how to tell you then, and I’m not sure I know how to tell you now.”

“When
we get to Cooke City, we’re going to make the time to practice our long awaited
storytelling skills together. Mine for yours and yours for mine, but this time
without naked, sex-induced lust to influence our conversation.”

“We
have lived out your fantasies, D,” said Candi defiantly.

She
steamed for a bit, but changed her tone as I stared her down. “It takes two.”

“Agreed,”
she huffed. She realized that I wasn’t going to fall for her poor-little-girl
routine. Woo-hoo wins enough arguments in my corner, but not this one.

“Candi,
back to Gio, if he has a gun, he has a reason to carry it. Do you know if I am
that reason? Tell me now and don’t blow smoke up my butt. Gio, from now on, is
my PROBLEM!”

Gio,
dragging Mile along walked into the store and into our conversation just as his
name came up in the heat of anger.

“Big
problem?”

“Yes,
we have a problem,” I replied, while looking at Candi, who immediately turned
ghastly pale. The best way to diffuse a bad situation, when a man is involved
is to bring sex into it. I’ve learned by experience if you can make a man stop
thinking with his big brain and focus on his small one, the small one, usually
wins. “We’re arguing,” I continued, “about your constant filming and its effect
on our sex life on the bike.”

”You
say I problem, but you say SEX, you miss SEX? You make joke, yes, D?”

“I
do, but not about this. Follow me,” I directed, walking immediately outside
toward the bikes. Opening my trunk bag, I pulled out my riding coat and said to
Candi, “here hold this.” Then, hoping to show Gio, that I too, carry a weapon,
I removed my 45 cal. Glock and pushed it into his hands. “Here hold this.” Then
I found the BOA and handed it to a now blushing Mile, “Hold this.” With my mind
quickly making this story up as I go, I could not help but think of the
universal use of show and tell, conveyed across cultures, using very few, if
any words.

Sex,
guns and toys are truly universal in any language.

With
everyone now thoroughly confused, I began. “Candi and I have a game that we
like to play on the bike. Acting out the motions, I explained that the BOA is
for her and both her hands are for me, while we cruise down the back roads.
But, as long as you’re filming,” I said, sticking my finger into Gio’s chest
repeatedly, “and driving back and forth between us, we are not comfortable
doing this. Especially when it could wind up on You Tube, in a heartbeat,” my
demeaning glare now focused on Gio.

Looking
at Candi, suddenly wearing the most dumbfounded look on her face, I said,
“Repeat what I just said, in Italian. I’m not sure Gio understood half of it.”
She readily complied.

A
broad smile cracked across Gio’s leathery face. “Ah, D,” slapping me on the
shoulder, “you want me stay behind?”

“Or
in front, it doesn’t matter,” I answered. “Just not back and forth the whole
time with your camera filming every frigging thing.”

Wrapping
his arm around me, Gio whispered a question, “You teach me and Mile?”

“My
pleasure, Gio,” I confided, thoroughly relieved to know that Italian men are no
different from American men when sex can be had by them or someone else, in
their midst. Retrieving my Glock from his other hand, I playfully announced,
“Welcome to my world, Giovanni.”

Woo-hoo continues to
slay and sway male judgments, including those with “Family” ties,
I mused, enjoying my
own attempt at impromptu comic relief.

“Candi,”
I announced, “it’s show time,” knowing that my quickly generated story would be
met with her utmost resistance, especially during daylight hours. “Let’s
change,” I said throwing her the red thong and rain jacket from my bag, while I
found my matching hammock.

“You’re
serious, D, strike that, I can see it in your eyes. Lest I remind you, it's
daylight; he’s family. Look around, will you.
 
There are people everywhere. Damn you,”
muttered a very irate Candi under her breath.

“I
am as serious as a heart attack. Gio is currently thinking with his dick. With
sex on his mind, he’s expecting a show. I suggest we give it to him.”

Returning
from the restrooms without our jeans, we found the Italians ready to go,
grinning from ear to ear. “You lead, we’ll follow,” I said to Gio, with a
sudden disappointed look in his eyes. “You can’t see anything from the front or
the back, I assured him. Come on, just drive, will you?”

Trying
to figure the lengths I would go on a far too curvy road had to be one for the
ages. At what speed do you set the throttle lock and still be able to maintain
control through some of the lazy S curves and occasional switchbacks.

Candi
leaned forward, clamping down with both hands on my shoulders, “We don’t have
to do this, D, we can just pretend.”

“We
could …we can … but we won’t.” I was suddenly indignant. “Candice, I expect you
to do your part while I do mine.”

“But
it’s … it’s daytime, D. Everybody that passes us will see what going on between
us.”

“They
might see something, Candi, but not much. Besides, even if they do, they won’t
believe it.”

Forty
miles per hour was my best guesstimate for a safe speed as Candi began to
reluctantly recreate our late night Iowa cornfield highway adventure. Starting
slowly, she kissed and nibbled each ear, before attacking my neck with a
vengeance. Once again, wrapping me with both hands, she pushed me to the edge.
Hesitating at first, to lock the throttle, my main objective was to keep us
upright and on the road, before I concentrated on
 
my co rider. Settling down into a slow
rhythmic drive, I realized I could alternate hands as the road conditions
warranted and still adequately service the girl who has entrusted me with her
care.

 
Riding through each curve seemed to
heighten Candi’s excitement, while not tightening her pucker string like they
did mine. Just as I asked how she was doing, brake lights from the Italians
appeared, along with a multitude of others, as I realized we had just run into a
typical road construction day on the Beartooth.