Motorcycle Man
Page 20
“Rock on!” Tabby exclaimed, throwing both her arms in the air, fingers extended in devil’s horns. Then she whirled to me and dropped her arms. “You had Dad’s fajitas, Tyra?”
“Um… no,” I answered.
“Get ready to have your world rocked,” Rush stated. “Dad’s fajitas are the shit.”
“I, actually… uh, can’t make dinner,” I started, all eyes, including Tack’s, locked on me and Tack’s, I noticed, looked annoyed for reasons unknown since he hadn’t actually ask me to dinner. “I have a ritual that I never miss on Thursdays.”
“What’s that?” Tabby enquired, her head tilting to the side.
“Thursday Takeaway,” I told her.
“Thursday Takeaway?” Rush asked.
“Um… yeah,” I answered. “Tonight I’m doing Imperial Chinese. I’ve been looking forward to it since last Thursday.”
“Babe, you so totally don’t want to miss Dad’s fajitas. Imperial is sweet but Dad’s fajitas rock!” Tabby declared.
“Seriously,” Rush added.
“Red, get your purse,” Tack ordered.
“Actually, um… I already had lunch so you just go on without me,” I jerked my head to the door and smiled at Tabby and Rush. “But it was cool meeting you.”
“Babe, get your purse,” Tack repeated with a slight modification.
My eyes moved to him and I said quietly, “Tack, I have work to get done.”
“Get your purse.”
“But –”
“Purse.”
“I –”
“Purse.”
“I don’t –”
He bent a bit at the waist in my direction. “Purse.”
I finally snapped, “Tack!”
“Jesus,” he muttered then moved while speaking and where he moved was toward me. “You’re not payin’ anyway so you don’t need your f**kin’ purse.”
I had moved several inches away from the wall but I pinned myself against it again, now willing my body to dissolve through the wall but this also failed. I was in this position for approximately one point five seconds before Tack’s strong hand curled around mine, he yanked me from the wall then he dragged me across the room. Then he dragged me through his children. Then he dragged me out of the office and down the steps where he stopped me on the passenger side of a very cool, shiny black car.
“Keys,” he called, lifted his hand, tagged a set of keys Rush sent sailing through the air then he ordered, “You two in back. Tyra’s shotgun. I’m drivin’.”
Then he unlocked the door and used my hand in a forceful, not to be denied way where I had no choice but to plant my ass in the passenger seat. The minute my feet hit the floor, he threw the door to and rounded the hood. He opened his door, both his kids scrunched into the back and Tack folded behind the wheel.
I stared at the door to the office thinking, guess I’m getting sandwiches with Tack and his kids.
Um. Yikes!
Tack turned the ignition, the car’s engine growled in a totally kickass way and with no other choice, I twisted and grabbed the seatbelt.
Chapter Eight
Open
I sat tucked in the corner of my couch, my knees up, heels to the seat, plate wedged between my thighs and torso and I ate Tack’s fajitas which, just as Tabby said, rocked.
This was after I sat sipping a diet while Tack and his kids had sandwiches, chips and pops with Rush eating two huge chocolate chip cookies on top of that. Through this, Rush sometimes spoke, Tack sometimes interjected, I said a few words here and there but mostly Tabby chattered away, completely over her drama. She was talkative, animated, smart, charming and funny. This was the way she was but it was also the way she was around her father and brother, both of whom clearly adored her so she could safely blossom under their adoration and she did.
This was also something I didn’t need. Rush, the eldest at seventeen, nearly eighteen (Tabby just turned sixteen, upon which Tack gave her a car, the same as he did for Rush, this I learned while Tabby chattered away), I could see as he was her big brother. Tack, since he was her father and she was his only daughter, I could also see but that didn’t mean I wanted to see it.
Badass biker Tack smiling at, teasing and openly adoring his daughter was something I definitely didn’t want to see. One could say the messages Tack had been giving me since I met him were most assuredly mixed. One could also say the personalities Tack had been displaying since I met him were most assuredly multiple. I wanted to focus on the bad messages and scary or annoying personality traits. Tack being a loving father, close to both of his kids, openly respecting his son and definitely being Daddy to his little girl were neither of those.
Fajitas on my couch were also after Tack took his kids and I back to Ride where Tabby hung out in the office with me and Rush worked on the red car in the garage with Tack. Tabby was just as talkative, animated, smart, charming and funny with me alone as she was with her brother and father there. This meant I got zero work done and also was unable to return any of Lanie’s texts, all of them getting increasingly demanding that I inform her immediately that I gave notice. I did manage to send off an, I’m busy, got someone in my office text which finally quieted her down but only after she ordered me to text her the minute I gave Tack my resignation letter.
Tabby in my office also made it impossible for me to avoid fajitas. It was impossible because at five to five, Tack stuck his head through the door that led to the garage, his eyes hit me and he stated, “Tab’s with you, babe, Rush and I’ll follow. I’m on my bike. Rush and I’ll go to the store to pick up the shit, you take Tab to rent a movie and we’ll meet at your house.”
The ten thousand words all rushing up my throat got jumbled and clogged on their way to my lips so I only got the chance to open my mouth before he disappeared behind the closed door and Tabby cried, “Awe… some! Let’s rent Saw! That movie kicks ass!”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I had no interest in renting Saw nor did I have the heart to tell her I wasn’t all fired up to have her Dad make fajitas at my house for his kids and, apparently, me. What I did have was the desire to find her father and then find a way to explain to him that he was a big jerk, I wasn’t playing his games and no matter how he told me to feel, he scared the freaking hell out of me and I wanted no part of it.
Since I couldn’t do the last, I closed down the office, loaded Tabby in my car, we rented Saw, I took her to my house where I immediately opened a chilled bottle of white wine and got her a diet. She wandered my house, declaring it was “the shit” and I changed out of my skirt, blouse and heels into a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a camisole. We were out the backdoor off the kitchen and on the back deck when Tabby heard the growl of her brother’s car and the roar of Tack’s Harley. She popped out of her seat, raced into the house and I heard her greeting her family with loud exuberance at the door, shouting, “Rush! Wait ‘til you see Tyra’s pad. It’s the shit! Her back deck is fah-reeking awesome!”
“Um… no,” I answered.
“Get ready to have your world rocked,” Rush stated. “Dad’s fajitas are the shit.”
“I, actually… uh, can’t make dinner,” I started, all eyes, including Tack’s, locked on me and Tack’s, I noticed, looked annoyed for reasons unknown since he hadn’t actually ask me to dinner. “I have a ritual that I never miss on Thursdays.”
“What’s that?” Tabby enquired, her head tilting to the side.
“Thursday Takeaway,” I told her.
“Thursday Takeaway?” Rush asked.
“Um… yeah,” I answered. “Tonight I’m doing Imperial Chinese. I’ve been looking forward to it since last Thursday.”
“Babe, you so totally don’t want to miss Dad’s fajitas. Imperial is sweet but Dad’s fajitas rock!” Tabby declared.
“Seriously,” Rush added.
“Red, get your purse,” Tack ordered.
“Actually, um… I already had lunch so you just go on without me,” I jerked my head to the door and smiled at Tabby and Rush. “But it was cool meeting you.”
“Babe, get your purse,” Tack repeated with a slight modification.
My eyes moved to him and I said quietly, “Tack, I have work to get done.”
“Get your purse.”
“But –”
“Purse.”
“I –”
“Purse.”
“I don’t –”
He bent a bit at the waist in my direction. “Purse.”
I finally snapped, “Tack!”
“Jesus,” he muttered then moved while speaking and where he moved was toward me. “You’re not payin’ anyway so you don’t need your f**kin’ purse.”
I had moved several inches away from the wall but I pinned myself against it again, now willing my body to dissolve through the wall but this also failed. I was in this position for approximately one point five seconds before Tack’s strong hand curled around mine, he yanked me from the wall then he dragged me across the room. Then he dragged me through his children. Then he dragged me out of the office and down the steps where he stopped me on the passenger side of a very cool, shiny black car.
“Keys,” he called, lifted his hand, tagged a set of keys Rush sent sailing through the air then he ordered, “You two in back. Tyra’s shotgun. I’m drivin’.”
Then he unlocked the door and used my hand in a forceful, not to be denied way where I had no choice but to plant my ass in the passenger seat. The minute my feet hit the floor, he threw the door to and rounded the hood. He opened his door, both his kids scrunched into the back and Tack folded behind the wheel.
I stared at the door to the office thinking, guess I’m getting sandwiches with Tack and his kids.
Um. Yikes!
Tack turned the ignition, the car’s engine growled in a totally kickass way and with no other choice, I twisted and grabbed the seatbelt.
Chapter Eight
Open
I sat tucked in the corner of my couch, my knees up, heels to the seat, plate wedged between my thighs and torso and I ate Tack’s fajitas which, just as Tabby said, rocked.
This was after I sat sipping a diet while Tack and his kids had sandwiches, chips and pops with Rush eating two huge chocolate chip cookies on top of that. Through this, Rush sometimes spoke, Tack sometimes interjected, I said a few words here and there but mostly Tabby chattered away, completely over her drama. She was talkative, animated, smart, charming and funny. This was the way she was but it was also the way she was around her father and brother, both of whom clearly adored her so she could safely blossom under their adoration and she did.
This was also something I didn’t need. Rush, the eldest at seventeen, nearly eighteen (Tabby just turned sixteen, upon which Tack gave her a car, the same as he did for Rush, this I learned while Tabby chattered away), I could see as he was her big brother. Tack, since he was her father and she was his only daughter, I could also see but that didn’t mean I wanted to see it.
Badass biker Tack smiling at, teasing and openly adoring his daughter was something I definitely didn’t want to see. One could say the messages Tack had been giving me since I met him were most assuredly mixed. One could also say the personalities Tack had been displaying since I met him were most assuredly multiple. I wanted to focus on the bad messages and scary or annoying personality traits. Tack being a loving father, close to both of his kids, openly respecting his son and definitely being Daddy to his little girl were neither of those.
Fajitas on my couch were also after Tack took his kids and I back to Ride where Tabby hung out in the office with me and Rush worked on the red car in the garage with Tack. Tabby was just as talkative, animated, smart, charming and funny with me alone as she was with her brother and father there. This meant I got zero work done and also was unable to return any of Lanie’s texts, all of them getting increasingly demanding that I inform her immediately that I gave notice. I did manage to send off an, I’m busy, got someone in my office text which finally quieted her down but only after she ordered me to text her the minute I gave Tack my resignation letter.
Tabby in my office also made it impossible for me to avoid fajitas. It was impossible because at five to five, Tack stuck his head through the door that led to the garage, his eyes hit me and he stated, “Tab’s with you, babe, Rush and I’ll follow. I’m on my bike. Rush and I’ll go to the store to pick up the shit, you take Tab to rent a movie and we’ll meet at your house.”
The ten thousand words all rushing up my throat got jumbled and clogged on their way to my lips so I only got the chance to open my mouth before he disappeared behind the closed door and Tabby cried, “Awe… some! Let’s rent Saw! That movie kicks ass!”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I had no interest in renting Saw nor did I have the heart to tell her I wasn’t all fired up to have her Dad make fajitas at my house for his kids and, apparently, me. What I did have was the desire to find her father and then find a way to explain to him that he was a big jerk, I wasn’t playing his games and no matter how he told me to feel, he scared the freaking hell out of me and I wanted no part of it.
Since I couldn’t do the last, I closed down the office, loaded Tabby in my car, we rented Saw, I took her to my house where I immediately opened a chilled bottle of white wine and got her a diet. She wandered my house, declaring it was “the shit” and I changed out of my skirt, blouse and heels into a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a camisole. We were out the backdoor off the kitchen and on the back deck when Tabby heard the growl of her brother’s car and the roar of Tack’s Harley. She popped out of her seat, raced into the house and I heard her greeting her family with loud exuberance at the door, shouting, “Rush! Wait ‘til you see Tyra’s pad. It’s the shit! Her back deck is fah-reeking awesome!”
