Money Shot: Selected Sinners MC Romance (15 page)

SIENNA

May 8
th
, 2015

Vince and I had known each other for almost a year. The last eleven months had flown by – quicker than any other time in my life – and I wondered if a life with Vince was just going to whoosh past, leaving me with many memories and no real recollection of where all the time had gone.

Spending time with Vince was like watching an action packed movie or reading a fabulous book; it passed at three or four times faster than any other time. I loved the watch he bought me for Christmas more than anything, but if we were out on a date all I had to do was look at it, and I was immediately reminded that the night was all but over.

It was apparent the satisfying things in life caused my mind to relax, and the passage of time was immeasurably fast when my mind was less resistant to what was being processed. Life’s stressful events made me tense, and when I was stressed out the clock seemed to stand still, making my shitty days last forever and my great ones over before they ever got a good start. Life would be so much more enjoyable if the tables were turned; and the memorable times seemed to last forever, leaving the tension filled days to blow past like speeding freight train.

As I heard the rumble of the motorcycle’s exhaust, I grabbed my purse and ran to the door. I pulled the door closed and turned toward the street just in time to see him come around the corner and accelerate toward my house.

Riding on Vince’s motorcycle was one of my favorite things ever, and even though it was ugly to look at, it was delightful to ride on. Mentally, I compared his motorcycle to oatmeal; something grotesque to stare at, but one thing I clearly couldn’t imagine life without. 

As he pulled into the driveway I jumped off the porch, hurried down the walk, and stood by the garage door waiting. He slowed down, turned around in the drive, and faced the street. With the change of weather from winter to a very warm spring, his thick beard was long gone, and he was back to having nothing but short stubble on his face. Sad that my beard porn winter was over, but enjoying his new look, I lifted my leg over the seat and got on.

“Glasses,” he said over his shoulder.

Shit.

I opened my purse, grabbed my glasses, and put them on. Remembering all of the things I had to do when riding the motorcycle didn’t come naturally to me, because I didn’t ride on it often enough. I did always remember that I needed to hang onto him to keep from falling off, but each time Vince pulled out of my driveway, I made it a point not to, because it felt like riding a rollercoaster when I teetered back in the seat as he pulled away. And he always pulled out of my driveway slowly, which allowed me to enjoy the feeling each time.

After placing my feet on the rear pegs, I tapped him on the shoulder and kissed his cheek.

“Ready,” I said as I lifted my hands out to my side and closed my eyes.

He pulled out of the driveway slowly; causing me to rock back in the seat and making me feel as if I was riding an amusement park ride. As I opened my eyes and grabbed him around the waist, he accelerated up the block, leaving me to wonder if he realized I enjoyed coming out of the driveway slowly, and he purposely did so for a that reason alone.

It seemed Vince knew everything, so I chose not to ask, deciding he did what he did for a reason.

As we rolled to a stop at the end of the block, Vince tilted his head to the side. “There’s this cool little place in Andover. It has a pretty small selection, but it’s great food. Guy started out on one of those little street vendor grilles with fucking wheels on it.”

He glanced in either direction, and pulled away from the stop sign gradually. “Maybe fifteen minutes to get there, sound good?”

I didn’t ever care what I ate with Vince, simply being with him was enough. Hell, he could starve me, and as long as I was starving with him, I really wouldn’t care.

I leaned forward and rested my chin on his shoulder. “Sounds great.”

“Andover it is,” he said, twisting the throttle a little more after he spoke.

I gripped him a little bit tighter and pulled my chest tight to his back. Feeling my body against his provided a level of comfort I had not previously known. It didn’t matter if he was hugging me, making love to me, or we were riding on the motorcycle, but when our bodies were touching and I was positively held in place, I felt as if nothing could harm me.

With Vince as my lover, I felt the only person who could harm me was me.

What seemed like five minutes and very little traffic later, we pulled into a small and rather sparsely occupied strip mall. At the far end was a small restaurant with a nice unoccupied covered seating area outside. As Vince came to a stop in a parking stall adjacent to the restaurant, I envisioned us sitting alone in the outdoor patio, talking and eating while enjoying the warm western evening sun.

We walked to the door side by side, and Vince pulled against the handle. The door rattled, but didn’t open. He pulled against it again, rattling the windows of the storefront.

We both gazed through the tinted glass into the restaurant. Everything was in place, but it was obviously closed. It seemed odd on a Friday night that the restaurant would be closed, but that sure seemed to be the case.

I studied the sign positioned above the door, grabbed my phone, and Googled the name of the restaurant.

“Closed. Says it right here. All of his restaurants are closed, this one was the last, it closed just yesterday,” I said, pointing to the screen of my phone.

“Motherfucker!” he shouted as he kicked the frame of the door.

From the force of his kick, the glass door flexed inward terribly. As it bowed back outward, it opened.

“Oh my god,” I said as I glanced over each shoulder. “Did you break it?”

“No,” he said as he kicked it again playfully. “These aluminum framed doors are pieces of shit.”

He gripped the door frame in his hand and pointed to the latch, which was still in place. “The slightest flex in the frame and they open, it’s a bad design.”

“Oh,” I said, as I studied the door.

I turned to face him and shrugged my shoulders. “So now what?”

He pulled the door open and peered inside. A quick glance over his shoulders later, he stepped inside the vacant restaurant. “Come on.”

I gazed the length of the parking lot. The half a dozen or so shops, which included a nail salon, a gaming store, and a frozen yogurt shop, all had very little business. A few passing cars were in the street, but no one was actually in the parking lot, only a few parked cars and Vince’s bike.

Not wanting to say no, and rather intrigued by the abandoned restaurant, I followed him through the door. With my heart beat steadily increasing with each step; I gazed around the empty establishment, staying a few steps behind him. The restaurant consisted of one large room, filled with eight booths, eight tables, and a small kitchen which was exposed and open for the patrons of the restaurant to view while dining. It was more of upscale than I suspected it would be, considering its location. As I turned and looked at the artwork still hanging on the walls, I couldn’t help but wonder if the location was part of the reason it closed. Such a nice place in a small town outside of the city, and in a rundown shopping mall, it seemed a strange choice for the location. I glanced toward a few of the tables, their chairs askew, wondering if people left in a hurry or were ushered out after a grand closing complete with wine, live music, and streamers dangling from the ceiling. It seemed strange having full access to the place, knowing at one point it was a thriving business filled with lovers, businessmen, and the occasional debt collecting biker.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Vince said, causing me to shift my focus daydreaming to him.

He pointed to a single bottle of wine below the wine rack, sitting in a wine cooler. “There’s one bottle…”

“What is it?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, opened the door of the small cooler, and handed it to me.

“It’s a 2006 Schiopetto Pinot Grigio,” I said. “Most wine connoisseurs wouldn’t admit to
loving
this, but it’s a great wine.”

He pulled two glasses from the overhead rack, blew away what little dust may have been inside, and began to hunt for a corkscrew. After a short search, he found one and uncorked the bottle.

After pouring the wine, he lifted a glass and gazed into it. “Want a taste”

As I chuckled at his question, my mouth began to water. “Really? You’re asking me if I want some wine?”

Dressed in his cut, a snow white tee shirt, jeans, and his leather boots, he seemed out of place standing in the end of the kitchen with a glass of wine in his hand. Truth be told, we both seemed out of place in the closed restaurant. We seemed like criminals.

After sip of the wine, it really didn’t seem to matter much. The wine was chilled perfectly, and was quite tasty. Somewhat disappointed we didn’t at least have an appetizer or something to nibble on while we drank it, I fixed my eyes on the small stainless steel refrigerator a few feet to Vince’s right.

“What’s in the fridge?” I asked. “Anything?”

He took a sip of wine, walked to the refrigerator, and opened the door. “Looks like some white cheese, some leafy shit, a bag of tomatoes and that’s about it. Maybe something left over from an appetizer or something.”

He slammed the door of the refrigerator and turned to face me.

“Let me see it,” I said as I stepped around him.

I opened the refrigerator. Fresh Basil, Roma tomatoes, and a few pounds of fresh mozzarella were on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, just as Vince said. No doubt left over from the previous nights closing, it appeared fresh and seemed like a great idea.  

A few seconds later, and I had found appetizer plates, a sharp knife, and balsamic vinegar. While I sipped my wine, I prepared two plates and walked to where Vince still stood.

“Viola!” I said as I handed him a plate.

“Does this shit even go together?” he asked.

“Try it,” I said as I picked up a piece of the appetizer I had prepared.

“All together?” he asked.

“Just like they’re layered,” I said as I lifted mine in the air.

I ate the cheese, tomato, and basil leaf in one bite and after swallowing it, took a drink of wine.

“Heaven,” I sighed.

Vince did the same. “Damn, pretty good stuff. You’re handy as fuck.”

“Blind luck they left that stuff there,” I said.

We carried our plates, the bottle of wine, and the glasses to one of the many empty tables. Although it might not have appealed to just any woman, having wine and an appetizer with Vince in a restaurant we had broken into was romantic.

We were alone, the place was only lighted by the indirect sunlight, and it was quiet. As we sat and talked, drinking our wine and sharing cheese, a few cars came and went in the parking lot, but as far as I was concerned, we were alone in a perfect sense.

As the bottle of wine produced its last drop, I glanced at my watch, well aware we would need to leave soon. Three hours had passed since we had left my house, further proof of my belief that time with Vince passed at a drastically rapid rate.

“I’ve got to pee,” I said as I glanced around dining area.

“The hallway in the rear,” he said as he tossed his head to the side.

I walked to the rear of the restaurant and into the hallway. The first door I reached was the men’s restroom, and although I fully realized I never would have considered doing it in any other circumstance, I always wanted to see what the inside of the men’s bathroom looked like.

Fully expecting to have to hover over the dirty toilet, but far too curious not to go inside, I pushed the door open, knowing no one was going to come inside.

Surprised at the cleanliness of the restroom, I peed, washed my hands, and pulled out a towel from the dispenser. I tossed it toward the trash can receptacle, missed, and walked toward the corner to pick it up.

A small brown bag lay on the floor beside the trash can with my wadded paper beside it. I picked up both, tossed the tissue in, and began to wad the bag into a ball. As I smashed the brown paper sack, a receipt fell out onto the floor.

Naturally, I picked it up, and even more naturally – at least for me – I looked at it. The receipt was date and time stamped, and from a local upscale grocery store close to Vince’s mother’s home. I stared down at the receipt and did the math for military time, which never quite came natural for me.

16:44 5.8.2015

The receipt was for the bottle of wine, basil, tomatoes, and cheese. And the items were purchased at 4:44 pm, roughly a half hour before Vince showed up to pick me up.

The entire night wasn’t happenstance, he had planned it.

I folded the receipt, shoved it into the pocket of my shorts, and looked at myself in the mirror. The woman who looked back was happy, beautiful, and very much in love. I grinned at her, opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.