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Strike One! That was super rude, but I played along as I placed my hand on his thigh, shooting for Strike Two. “I thought men like women who were made up like common whores.” Biting my lower lip before I burst out laughing to see the alarm in his hazel eyes.
“Um, I’m going to go have a chat with your pop about the club.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I pretended to pout like a girl whose boyfriend told them no for the last time. “Oh, that. Welcome to theHe-Man Woman Haters Tricycle Club.”
TWO
DALLAS MARQUEZ
What has gotten into Char? I don’t recall Tyler’s daughter acting this strange ever and it made me wonder if she was doing this to drive me away. After what Tyler told me, it was what I suspected. “Is Char okay?” I asked as I handed Tyler a beer, before opening one up for myself.
“When is my Share-Bear ever okay?”
I shrugged my shoulders since I didn’t know this girl on any level. I’d seen her around town, but she never spoke two words to me, or anyone. Charlene Dixon was a mystery to all of us. She had few friends, except Mushu Stevens, and it was doubtful she ever had a boyfriend. There was plenty I wanted to know about her; however, she seemed disinclined to carry on any type of conversation with me.
When I glanced over my shoulder, she stared at us from the safety of the kitchen door. “I’m making potato salad. Dad says you like extra shrimp?” She called out before she burst out laughing and disappeared.
“She’s joking with you. I told her about your shellfish allergy. I’m gonna miss her when she goes. That's why I’ve been inviting men over with the hopes one could steal her heart and persuade her to stay in Alaska.” Tyler said with woe in his voice.
“I’d kill my mother if she pulled the same shit you’re doing to Char. We talk since this is a small town and the other guys know what their president is doing. It’s a running joke among us single men. She must be a mutant and you’re trying to pawn her off to anyone desperate to fall for such a beast.” I laughed, and it surprised me that Tyler laughed along as well.
“Yeah, I hear the shit talk, too. You’re the only one, except for Mushu, who knows my daughter. After her mother passed away, my overprotective instincts took over. But Char is eighteen now and makes no bones about needing to be independent.” Tyler took a swig of beer and exhaled, before he continued, “Dude, she’s going to be gone for four years. What in the hell am I going to do with myself?”
“Get a job? You don’t need the money, but it would give you something to do when you’re not hanging out at the clubhouse with us.” He nodded at my suggestion. “Or have you thought about running your own motorcycle repair business?”
Tyler shook his head. “I looked into it and decided all the legalities and whatnot were too much of a pain in the ass and decided against it.”
He pulled the steaks off the grill and I followed him into the house, where Char leaned against the counter, adding spoonfuls of sugar to her iced tea. “Do you like some tea with your sugar?” I joked with her and she darted out of the kitchen as if I said something offensive. “Did I say something wrong?”
“CHAR!” Tyler yelled across the small house. This must have been a common thing, because she was immediately back in the kitchen. “Let’s make Dallas feel welcome. So, please, try to not be yourself.”
I couldn’t help myself and burst out laughing.
Char took the bowl of potato salad and slammed it on the table. “What’s wrong with how I am, Father?” She asked before tossing plates in their rightful places before haphazardly placing utensils next to the plates. “I cuss like a fucking sailor. I belch.” Which she displayed and went on with her rant. “And I can drink either of you under the table. I hate wearing make-up; which, for your information, is making my face itch like mad. I am not a 'bougie' girl, okay?! Also, I cannot invest my heart or my time to spending time with any man because I leave in two weeks and I fucking hate goodbyes.” She plopped down in a chair and crossed her arms over her chest, exchanging glances at me and her father.
“Why are you getting your panties in a bunch? I’m not here to keep you from your dreams, Char. Your father invited me for dinner, with the hopes you and I could become friends—not husband and wife.”
The warm smile on her face gave me credence that there was some kind of breakthrough between me and the enigmatic Miss Dixon.
***
Damn! Tyler Dixon knew how to grill a perfect medium-rare steak and I did not know Char could cook. I never had a better potato salad or baked beans. She had to brag it was all made from scratch and a bit of spit, which didn’t sit well with her father until she pointed out she was joking. She joked about the cooking too, pointing out the empty containers in the trash. “How many beers did you have, Dally?” She called me Dally, which was endearing, so I allowed it.
“Only two, why?”
Char took my hand and led me out to the garage, giving me no option to back out as she slammed a helmet on my chest. “You can ride my mom’s bike. It hasn’t been ridden for weeks.”
“Why don’t you sell it?” She arched her brow and tightened her lips. “Sorry, wrong thing to ask.”
“You bet your ass it is.”
“I brought my bike. I can ride it.”
“It’s a touring bike. We’re racing, so a crotch rocket is more appropriate,” she yelled as she pulled her old Yamaha into the driveway. Her mother’s bike was too small for me, but I needed to appease this bossy girl and ride it.
It took a couple of tries to turn the cold engine on her mother’s bike and the revving engine must have perked up Tyler’s ears because he rushed out, enraged. “What in the fuck is going on here? Get off her bike, Marquez.” He demanded. There was no way in hell I was going to display any type of disrespect for the man and did as he demanded.
“Dad! We’re just going for a ride around the back roads. Dallas is a skilled rider, so nothing will happen to Mom’s bike.”
