Today & Tomorrow (3 page)

“That was AWESOME!” she shouted, throwing her fist into the air.

He laughed and then rocked the bike back down. “Okay, do it again. When you can do it three times in a row without me rescuing you, I’ll show you the controls.”

She was pretty thin and didn’t offer much in the way of ballast, so it took her a few times before she didn’t need to be rescued. About half an hour after the first time he’d laid it down, she finally made her three times in a row.

Nolan’s shoulders were fucking sore. He’d been laying the bike down easy that whole time, trying not to fuck up one of Muse’s rental bikes, and trying not to look like a pussy in front of Analisa. To say he was relieved when she got the hang of it would be an understatement.

She looked pleased with herself, flushed and lovely. “Now what? Can I get on?”

“Not yet. Come here, and I’ll show you the controls.” He realized he hadn’t asked her something that potentially was important. “Can you drive a stick?”

“Yeah. I drive a Mini Cooper. Six-speed.”

He grinned. What a girl car. “Okay, good. That’ll make this easier, if you understand how a clutch works.” Pulling her to stand right in front of him, he pointed to the left pedal, at their side. “Left foot: gears.” He kicked the gear shift with his boot. “First is lowest, then neutral, then second, and so on. Left hand: clutch. You have to engage the clutch by squeezing and releasing here”—he leaned around her and put his hands on the handlebars, squeezed the lever on the left—“before you change gears. They work together, though. You’ll be able to feel when it engages—like you can with your feet in your car. With me so far?”

Staring at his hands and mimicking with her own hands, she nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good. He set her to the side and mounted the bike. After he fired it up, he nodded to his right. “Come around the other side.”

When she did what he’d asked, he said, “Right is brakes. Right foot: rear brake.” He kicked it. “Right hand: front brake. You don’t want to engage the front brake first—it could put you over the top of the bike. If you’re going fast enough, it could even bring the bike over with you. So always brake the rear first. Foot, then hand. The right hand is also the accelerator.” He revved the engine to demonstrate.

Again, she studied his hands and feet, mimicking his movements. But she hadn’t said anything for a while.

“You got it?”

Her eyes came up to his, and he thought she looked a little freaked out. “I think so. I won’t know till I try, right?”

“Right. You ready to try?”

“I think so. How do I balance?”

“You ride a bike, right? A bicycle?”

“Sure.”

“Do you have to think about balancing?”

She frowned. “No—I guess not.”

“This is more stable than a Schwinn. Don’t think about balancing. Just be balanced.”

“Um, okay.”

Nolan killed the engine and dismounted, and Analisa came around to the same side. She took the handle grips in her hands and swung her leg over. He couldn’t help but notice her cute little ass as her leg went over.

Looking at her feet, she asked, “How do I start it?” Nolan guessed she hadn’t been paying attention when he’d started it. Either time.

“It’s a newer bike. You don’t have to kickstart it. Just kick the stand back, then hold the clutch in and turn the key.”

She did, grinning at him when the engine roared up.

“Okay, good.” He spoke up over the throaty engine. Even little Harleys made a ruckus. “You remember the gears?”

She nodded and moved the bike into first gear, then throttled. The bike moved forward, lurching a little, but she got it moving.

And then it all went to hell. Nolan wasn’t sure how, maybe she’d missed the gear, but she did something, then freaked out about it, looking down at the pedal. The engine sputtered, and died, the bike jumped, and then it was going over.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” she yelled.

Shit
, he thought while that was all going down, and he ran forward just as the bike crashed to its side. Analisa made an awkward jump, getting clear of the bike, but wheeling backward until she landed on her ass.

He went to her first, squatting at her side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I’m not hurt. Except my ego.”

Standing, he held out his hands. She took them, and he helped her to her feet. “No sweat. I told you everybody drops their bike. Just pick it back up and we’ll try again.”

She walked over to the bike, her arms crossed over her chest, and then just stood there, staring.

“Analisa? Okay?”

“I don’t think so. I can’t do this. FUCK!” She kicked the bike, taking a good swing at it and landing with a solid clang.

“Hey!”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Spinning on her heel, she stormed off to the side and plopped down on the brick wall next to Nolan’s helmet.

He rocked the bike up to its wheels—half an hour ago he might have shown off and deadlifted it, but he was too sore for that game now—and walked it back to the curb. Checking it over, he saw that the damage wasn’t much. Just a little dent and a few scratches.

He stood the bike and went over to the girl, who was about as curled up as she could be. She wasn’t crying or anything—just folded over, her head almost touching her knees.

“You sure you’re okay?”

She looked up, and her expression was sad. “That was so scary. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. I jumped out of a
fucking plane
and wasn’t as scared as I just was. How is that possible? It’s so stupid! I’m gonna die—like
soon
. What is there left to be afraid of?”

He squatted on the sidewalk in front of her and, not thinking about it, put his hands on her knees. “You jumped out of a plane?”

She smiled a little. “Yeah. Tandem, but yeah. It was on my list. It was pretty cool.”

Nolan was beyond impressed. “Well, first, jumping out of a plane is about the most metal thing I can think of. I don’t have the balls for that shit, so it you already did that, then I don’t think you have to worry about anybody thinking you’re chicken. And second, if you ask me, dying isn’t the scary thing. Hurting is the scary thing. What happened just now wouldn’t have killed you, but it could have hurt you. I get why you’d be scared of that. It’s a lot easier to die than it is to hurt.”

Now her eyes got a little glittery, but still she didn’t cry. “You’re right. I’m most afraid of the hurt. And you just made that sound like it wasn’t backwards.”

“I don’t think it is backwards.” He squeezed her knees and then dropped his hands, letting them dangle between his thighs. “Look. There’s no shame in not wanting to ride on your own.”

“But riding a Harley is on my list! I have to finish my list! I have to!”

Nolan wondered what it was like to know your time was short. Would he do what she was doing, and try to live everything all at once? It seemed to him like it took a special strength to demand to have your whole life no matter what. And maybe there was a kind of blessing in knowing the end was coming, knowing that you had to get a move on and get shit done.

He smiled a little. Havoc had been in his life only a short while, but he knew that the man he considered his only father had grabbed life by the balls every day. That was what this girl was doing, too. He guessed it was what you did when you really thought you could go at any time.

“You did ride a Harley. You rode out here with me.”

For a second, she gaped at him, as if that hadn’t occurred to her. “That’s not what I meant, though, when I made my list.”

“I’m not big on rules. And anyway, it’s your list. Seems like it can mean whatever you want it to mean. You said you did a tandem jump—that means you were strapped to a more experienced skydiver, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Was it on your list to do a tandem jump or just to jump out of an airplane?”

She blinked.

“You rode with me. Tandem. Seems to me that’s ‘Ride a Harley, check.’”

They stared at each other, and then she grinned. “You are so awesome.”

He grinned back, feeling well pleased with himself. He didn’t think he’d ever talked like this with a girl. He liked it. “Well, thanks. You want me to call and get somebody to come pick you up so you don’t have to ride back?”

“No. I want to ride with you. If that’s okay. Will you still take me home? I know it’s far.”

“Less than a hundred miles is nothing. If you’re good with it, I am, too.” He stood and held out his hand; she took it and came to her feet. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him hard, pressing her whole body to his. She was still wearing her helmet, and it made the embrace a little awkward, but he hugged her right back. Even through her jacket and his kutte, he could feel her tits, low on his ribs.

After a second, her helmet wasn’t the only thing making the hug awkward, and he set her away before she noticed. Jesus, he was disgusting. Getting a boner for a sick girl.

“You want to head back now?”

She nodded, and he picked up his helmet, holding it so he could adjust himself in his jeans without her seeing.

He hoped.

Riding with Nolan out to the office park had been like a rollercoaster—scary and wonderful all at once. Analisa’s heart had been going a billion miles a minute, and every time they took a turn and the bike tipped toward one side or the other, her stomach jumped and spun, but she’d liked it, too. He had a good body, really firm, and she’d felt good sitting so close behind him, with her arms around him.

She’d been nervous, though, about riding on her own. The ride with Nolan had made her more nervous about going solo, not less. She’d had no concept at all about how powerful a motorcycle was until she’d ridden with him to Fontana. She felt stupid now, but she’d never thought about the fact that she’d essentially be sitting on a car engine, something powerful enough to keep up on the freeway—to blow the competition away, even.

So by the time he’d parked and started giving her her first—and, it turned out, last—lesson, she was already freaking out and trying not to show it.

Well, that had gone great, then. Not.

Now, on the ride to Malibu, she wasn’t nervous. But she was still ashamed. Even though Nolan had been great and patient and had made a decent argument that the whole project hadn’t been a total failure, she still felt like a wuss for losing it like she had. But fuck! that had been scary. She could feel herself want to shake even now at the memory.

Still, this ride was a lot better. Longer, too, and she couldn’t think of a single thing wrong with that. She liked this guy. She didn’t know much about him, but she thought she wanted to. There were definitely some items on her secret list he was currently the top candidate for. And she thought, being a biker and all, he might be able to help her with a couple of others, too. Her father would have a whole herd of cows about it, but that was his problem.

As they got into LA County, the traffic, of course, got ridiculous. For a while, they coasted in the stop-and-go. And then Nolan looked over his shoulder at her.

“Do you trust me?” he yelled over the rumble of the Harley engine.

“Yeah!” She said it without thinking about it, but for the moment it was true—because what could he do that was untrustworthy here on the 10 in traffic?

He pulled into the space between the lanes and took off, doing probably only thirty or so, but with the nearly-stopped cars on either side of them, so close she thought she could reach out and touch them, it felt like they were going a hundred at least.

For a second, she was terrified, and she clutched Nolan even more tightly. But then she realized that she did trust him. Hard on the heels of that thought was the one that said that this was fun—that the sensation of speed was wonderful, not unlike the rush of falling through the air. And he was right—she wasn’t alone. She was with him, he was in control, and she trusted him.

She threw her head back and laughed. He laughed, then, too—she could feel it on her hands, his hard belly shaking.

Feeling liberated and exhilarated, she wanted to mark this moment for her movie. And she realized that she hadn’t taken any footage of her failure to learn to ride. So now, she carefully let go of Nolan with one hand and fished in her jacket for her phone. He noticed, his head turning a couple of degrees, but his attention was on the road, where it should be.

With one hand, she set up the video function and then held the phone out as they rode between the cars, getting several seconds of her and Nolan and the wind and the roar on the freeway on a California autumn afternoon.

She laughed and laughed and held on with her other hand for her dear, short life.

~oOo~

Nolan set his helmet on the bike. Analisa had bought hers, so she had it dangling from her hand. He looked up at the front of her house—well, her dad’s house, whatever—and just stood there.

Donovan Winter was a big star. He had been since before Tristan and Analisa were born, since before he’d met their mom. They’d met on a movie, in fact. Donovan was the kind of actor who was both gorgeous and talented. He was strong and graceful, and he was smart and intuitive. The complete package. So he was one of those rare A-listers who had been headlining summer action blockbusters and awards-season think pieces for three decades.

He’d made a whole lot of money. Stella, Analisa’s mother, had, too. Her movies were still making money in streaming and syndication.

Their house in Malibu was pretty awesome. It had been designed by a big-deal architect, and had made the cover of a couple of different lifestyle magazines.

It looked now like Nolan was feeling a little intimidated.

She was, too, actually. She’d invited him in—her dad had texted and told her she’d better—but now she felt weird about it. She didn’t want Nolan to feel weird meeting her dad, and she didn’t know what they were going to do with him once she got him inside. She could feel awkwardness looming just inside the door.

Also, since she wasn’t going to take riding lessons from him, after all, this was probably the first and last time she’d ever see him. She didn’t like that, she wanted to see more of him, get to know him, but she didn’t know what to do about it. They didn’t exactly have a lot in common. As evidenced by his gaping silence standing here in front of her house. Her dad’s house. Whatever.

She reached out, meaning to take his hand, but chickened out at the last second. Today was not a day high on the brave scale for Analisa, no sir. “We should go in.”

At her words, he turned and smiled—the kind of smile a condemned man sends his family on the way to the gallows. “Okay. Lead the way.”

And then he took her hand.

As they got to the front door, it opened, and her father was there, smiling his press-junket smile. “You’re back! How’d it go?” He held out his hand. “And you’re Nolan, right?”

To his great credit, Nolan didn’t act like a starstruck goof. He shook her dad’s hand and said, “Yes, sir. Good to meet you.”

That obviously impressed her dad, because his smile became a real one. “Well, get in here, both of you. Marica has dinner just about ready, I think.” He leaned over and kissed Analisa’s cheek, lingering an extra second.

“Is Tris home?” His Nissan wasn’t in the drive, but he might have parked in the garage.

“No. He went out with Paige this evening.”

Tristan didn’t have a girlfriend, he had girlfriends in the plural, three or four girls, in some kind of rotation, whom he enjoyed for different reasons. He spent a
lot
more time in the tabloids than Analisa did. Her father had some kind of agreement or something with the paparazzi that kept her out of the spotlight for the most part. Especially since she’d gotten sick. The first time.

As they followed her father into the main living space of the house—which was a kitchen, dining room and living room, all in one open area, mostly surrounded by glass walls that maximized the view of the beach and the Pacific Ocean—Nolan slowed until he was barely moving.

“I—uh—you don’t need—Jesus, you’re right on the water.”

Donovan smiled and looked out the window. “Yeah. I love that view.”

“How could you not? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Donovan turned. “You’ve never been to the beach?”

“No, I have. I’ve ridden a ways up the PCH a couple of times. But it’s different being in a house and looking at that. It seems bigger, I guess. It’s impressive.”

“I agree. There’s a biker bar down the road. You know it?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty famous. I’ve stopped in.”

“Don’t ever take my daughter there.”

Analisa face went instantly hot with embarrassment. “Daddy!”

But Nolan just cocked his head and gave her father a quizzical look. “Okay. Hadn’t planned on it.”

Her father smiled at them both. Not the junket smile, not his normal smile. Something more enigmatic. Like he was in on a joke they didn’t know. “Just setting the parameters. Can I get you a drink?”

Nolan turned and looked back the way they’d come, toward the front door, like he was feeling nostalgic for it. Then he turned to Analisa and gave her a little smile. She smiled back, hoping she was being encouraging. She wanted him to stay.

And now she wanted to figure out a way to get him to take her to that bar.

She must have been encouraging enough, because when Nolan looked back at her father, he said. “Beer, if you got it.”

“I do. Fat Tire okay?”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Good—have a seat—or look around, if you like. Dinner won’t be long. Do you eat shark?”

Nolan laughed. “I have no idea. But I’m game.”

Donovan smiled. “Good man.” He went off to the far side of the space, where Marica was cooking, and opened the big Sub-Zero fridge.

Raking his hair back from his face, Nolan leaned over to Analisa and muttered, “I think maybe I know how you felt jumping out of a plane.”

It made her laugh, and she turned toward him—oh, he was close. She could see a little bit of dark stubble on his cheeks and upper lip. His lips were nice, really nice.

Refocusing, she said, “He’s a good guy, I promise. He’s just a guy with a job. That’s it.”

“Yeah…no. He’s not. But I can play it that way.”

“Sorry if you’ve been taken hostage.” She knew he hadn’t planned on spending much time here.

“It’s okay. I’m glad to stay. I mean, hell. Once-in-a-lifetime stuff, right?”

Not for her. This was her everyday life. But she understood. Before she could say so, her dad was back with beers for him and Nolan and a lemon water for her.

She guessed it was time to sit around and make polite conversation.

~oOo~

“It really is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Analisa walked up behind Nolan and looked out over the vista that had spurred him to make such a sweeping statement. It was just the ocean; she had been looking at it her whole life.

But now she tried to see what he was seeing—the most beautiful thing ever.

It was dark—they’d lingered over dinner, having a good conversation. Nolan was nothing like she’d expected him to be. He was smart and well-spoken, and he kept up with current events—and not just gossip and industry news, but world events. Politics. He had opinions and he was able to share them and discuss without being an asshole about it. He and her dad had had a spirited debate about the Second Amendment and had stayed friendly the whole time.

She didn’t know why she’d been expecting a Cro-Magnon man; she’d known Bart for years, and he was all the things Nolan was, too. But she’d thought Bart was an anomaly. She was getting a new perspective on bikers.

So she tried to get a new perspective on the view that had been out her window her whole life.

There was a little bit of a breeze, just enough to bring the waves in one after the other. The water was dark blue, almost the same blue of the night sky, and the tops of the waves were pearly grey. The coast glowed—it always did, lots of people meant lot of lights, so what the sky lacked in starshine it made up for in that coastal glow. Like fairy lights.

She’d never before thought something so fanciful about the place she lived, and it made her giggle. Nolan looked over his shoulder, a reserved smile on his face. “You laughing at me?”

“No—at myself. I was just thinking that everything looks lit up with fairy light. Pretty dumb.”

He turned to face her. “I like it. It
is
magical here.” He looked past her, toward the house. And his way home. “I should get going, though.”