The Girl

99 words


The girl--maybe thirty--blonde, ragged Levis and loose halter top steps out from behind her pickup.

“Trouble?” I ask, noting oil on the road.

“Kinda.”

“Where ya headed?”

“Pie Town.”

“Phone number?”

“No.”

“ Ride?”

She eyeballs my Harley, then the storm clouds. “I don’t think so.”

“Lady, a gentle person lives under this beard.” Shucking my jacket, I hold it toward her.

She hesitates several long seconds before slipping it on. Swinging a leg over, she settles in behind me and catch a whiff of her perfume.

The Harley comes to life and her fingers grip my belt.