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My mentor did the same thing for me.
The blood seethes in my veins.
I can’t prolong this trip anymore.
My fingers jab the screen, and when I finish the text, I read it one more time before I hit send.
It’s time to go back home and fight for what I want.
A few hours later, we’re behind the building, preparing to go for a ride.
I curve my brow to my hairline, “You have more secrets in this building?”
The muffled sound of music is coming from another side of the building where the club is.
“If I tell you imma have to kill you.” He quips.
The door of the storage unit rolls upward and I swear I can hear Born To Be Wild playing in my ears as Luka shoots me a proud look when he enters.
“Duck!” and the song fades immediately.
I pivot my head to the sides, scanning the area for the mysterious squeaky voice, “You have a weird alarm.”
“It’s kangaroo.” He says, flicking the light on.
I can sense the presence of someone else in here, “Who?”
He points to the caged parrot swinging in merriment from side to side.
“You named your parrot Kangaroo?” I inch closer to a beautiful white cockatoo with boisterous behavior.
He murmurs to himself, making little dance movements, “Kan… Kan… Kangaroo.”
“He’s not mine, he’s my grandma’s—she’s going back to Australia tomorrow and needs a place to keep him while she’s out,” Luka explains, fishing out the gear from a locker by the corner.
“Of all of the places, you put him in a storage unit.”
“His precious!” His voice shifts from calm to serious with an ounce of humor, “I am a dead man if he is gone.”
“Duck!” He pretends to lower his head down, “Duck!”
“What’s that about?”
“They go sailing together all the time,” Luka replies.
“Huh… so your grandma is a pirate.” The rumble of laughter echoes from my chest.
“Very funny.” He answers as the souls of his boots resound against the floor as he strides somewhere behind me.
The rustle of a fabric tickles my entire nervous system.
“She’s old but still works.”
I spin around in confusion, “Are we still talking about your grandma?” and a black R6 beauty stares back at me underneath the cover—I can hear that song again.
“Not quite, although…”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I hold my finger in the air. The number of times people tried to set me up with their moms and grandmas is embarrassing.
