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It’s sad, really, how life fucks us up so bad we have to use outlets like this.
After Oakleigh takes her first sip of coffee, she looks over at me, brightness in her eyes. “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done, Razor. I really appreciate it.”
I shrug, downplaying the compliment she’s just given me. “Just doing what I can to help.”
She smiles, not saying a thing in response and opens up the container of food in front of her. “Good God, this looks divine!”
I smile to myself as I dig into my eggs, and the woman before me turns into a complete savage.
She shovels food in her mouth like she might not eat again for weeks, and pride swarms in my chest.
To me, it seems like the demons that usually plague her mind are at rest, and it’s my goal to make sure they stay there.
A beautiful woman like Oakleigh shouldn’t be so tormented.
10
Oakleigh
We’ve finally made it to Chihuahua, Mexico, and I don’t think I want to take another ride on the back of Razor’s bike for a good few weeks.
My ass hurts in ways it never should.
But, even with my mild discomfort, the beautiful scenery around us makes up for it.
The sun blazes overhead as we ride along the roads.
Dust from the highways is clinging to my braids, and I know it’s going to be a bitch to get it out.
Razor made a joke how he can use the air blower in the garage to get the dust out, and now I don’t think the idea is half bad.
I hold on tightly to Razor's waist, pressing my body against his, feeling the powerful vibrations of the bike reverberate through me.
The Bluetooth system in these helmets has been a lifesaver. “Welcome to Chihuahua, Cola.” Razor’s tone is full of excitement, and it immediately makes me excited for this new journey.
Even though he can’t see me, I’m smiling. "Thanks for bringing me!"
Razor continues riding through the city, and as we continue riding, I notice the scenery around us isn’t getting better—it’s getting worse.
We’re riding into the rough part of town.
Razor pulls up to a large building with an iron gate.
You can barely see in through the intricate designs, but Razor taps something on his bike and the gates open for us.
Once they’re open far enough, he pulls in and the gate shuts behind us.
This must be the clubhouse for the charter.
He pulls his bike under an awning and presses another button on his bike.
Another door opens and Razor rides inside, pulling his bike into a large garage.
Once he turns his bike off, we both dismount, take off our helmets, and I take a moment to loosen myself up and stretch my legs.
God, I’m so grateful for the break.
Razor looks over me for a moment, almost like he’s analyzing me. “What?” I finally laugh, needing to know.
