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My rush to see what’s going on at the other end of the market subsides as my brother hashes out feelings I’ve never heard him discuss.
“I still don’t have the love of my life, Bexley. Don’t let yours get away because you’re afraid. Take the change. Ride into the sunset.”
“Are you talking about Johnny?”
“He’s one of the good ones.”
“Thank you.” I hug my brother. “First, I have to go fix whatever this is.” I take the number out of my pocket when a loudspeaker comes from the direction of this supposed auction.
“Who wants the ride of their life?” Hattie’s voice booms through the sound system.
The microphone screeches, and Birdie’s voice comes over it. “Step right up. This auction is about to begin.”
What auction?
They can’t have an auction without talking to the town committee.
“And you’re in for a wild ride,” Trixie squeals and claps.
Who let the trio near a microphone?
“I gotta go.”
“I didn’t buy you that number for nothing!” Bay calls after me. “Use it!”
I’m going to use it to scold the trio.
I half run and half walk through the aisles, dodging shoppers browsing at the vendors' tents. It feels like a lifetime since the last time I ran by tents on a mission. The memory of Johnny and me chasing the supposed hooligans tightens my chest. Like every memory of him since I watched him ride away on his motorcycle. Since the day I let him leave me, made him leave.
A crowd gathers in a circle. They all seem to be holding a number. The excitement radiates from the men and women. I politely push my way through the horde until I’m in the front row of a large space. A blue tarp is draped over some hunk of junk in the middle of the circle.
I make eye contact with Hattie. I move right, around the outside edge of the circle. She moves the opposite way. I start left, and she switches directions.
“Stop it,” I mouth to her.
She elbows the other two, and now all three women are parading the opposite way I move. It’s ridiculous.
“I’ve been wanting a motorcycle,” some guy behind me says.
“And a Creed bike would be incredible. They supercharge their machines,” his friend adds.
A Creed bike?
My gaze lands on the tarp, which just happens to be the exact size and shape of a motorcycle.
I take a couple steps to rip off the tarp when my best friend materializes in front of me.
Billie looks as badass biker as always in her torn jeans and studded leather coat with big shoulders.
“Billie!” I throw my arms around her. “I missed you so much.” I squeeze her until my arms hurt.
“I missed you too.”
I step back and punch her shoulder.
“Ouch.” She rubs the spot, but she’s grinning like a child. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t deserve that.”
“Yes, you did.” I want to tell her all about my weekend with her brother. Every last detail because that’s how we share, but we’re surrounded by people.
