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I parked the all-black custom-built hardtail “80” kickstart Evowhere it was visible from the window and headed into the bar.Swaggering slightly, I pulled my leathers out of the crack of my ass -trying not to be obvious. I ordered a Coke. The bartender, a new guy, raised an eyebrow likeit should have been a Jack […]

Coffee. All she wanted was a good cup of coffee. Was that too muchto ask? Apparently so. All she had been able to find in this littleditchwater town was oily swill that wasn’t fit for human consumption. She made do with a Coke, she really needed the caffeine. She hadn’t slept for almost 36hours and

What a lousy day. It was one of those spring days when the snow is almostgone and everything you look at is in shades of gray. The weather fit my moodto a tee. The last thing I wanted to be doing was sitting in this truckhauling gravel and dealing with people who wanted their road

She hit the kill switch and, with the V-Twin engine silenced, could hear only the wind sizzling past her ears. She dropped the stand and leaned the Deuce into his resting position. Pocketing the key, she swung her long leg off the bike. She stood motionless for a moment, the wind and the ticking of

The wind on her face was soft and cool. The Fatboy beneath her wasquiet and smooth. She missed the reverberating snarl of her Sporty through theslant cut drag pipes and the vibration of the 1200 Evo engine. But she hadwillingly traded in the Sportster, as well as her meager life savings, to buyhim the Fatboy.

Their hands bumped as each reached for the only copy of “Bugs andDaffy: The War Years.” He snatched his hand back and looked at his competitor.His eyes widened slightly as he found himself staring into sullen blue eyes inan ivory face. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “go ahead.” “No, that’s all right. I’ve seen it before.” “No,

The club was dark, crowded. The smoky air and press of bodies wasstifling. She felt a hand grope her crotch as she pushed her way through.She grabbed it without a thought, bending the fingers back until sheheard a yelp over the din of the music. Her eyes met the bloodshot, pain-filledeyes of her molester. “Oh

“There’s a table open,” she smiled at him over her shoulder, “I’ll gorack ’em if you want to get the beer.” He nodded agreement and pushed his way to the bar. He watched herwork her way through the crowd, up the two steps to the raised pool area and puther quarters in the table. He

For all my sisters who have known the terror and indignity of anassault, and there are far too many of us. The young woman walked slowly to the bar, took a napkin from theholder and held it to her abused lip. Pulling it away, she stared at the dirt and blood. Tears stung her eyes,

What the hell was he thinking? Obviously he wasn’t. Becausehere he was, idling down a long, narrow, graveled road at ten o’clock atnight in the middle of nowhere. Shit, they didn’t even have streetlightsout here. He should have just stopped at the motel out on the highway,called her, thanked her for her kind offer and

“Bastard,” she swore softly as she returned the phone to its cradle.”Jim, you dumb-fuck, butt-ugly, slacker bastard.” Nice time to back out on a ride, half-hour before they were to hit theroad. Fine. It was only 150 miles; she was going anyway. In reality, shepreferred to ride alone. Setting her own pace, taking the whole

“Wha?” Hacksaw said into the phone, dazed and half-awake. “Wind ’em up,” the voice on the other end barked so loud Hacksaw hadtohold the phone at arms length. “We’re splitting from the cantina atnoon. You’ve got three hours to be on time. This is your lastchance Hacksaw. Don’t fuck up or you’re out of the

Chet May stood at the door of the gas station casually sucking on aroot beer Slurpee as he watched the scene in the gas pump bay. There was nothingremarkable about it. All the players moved about in a practiced manner.Two black and white Riverside patrol cars were parked akimbo, doors flungopen, lights fluttering and reflecting

Tony the Tool sat in the gutter in front of his California bungalow. A couple weeks before, a community improvement group had painted the run-down rental, but it didn’t improve the condition of the junk rolling stock surrounding it. It was past 10 p.m. in the rundown neighborhood, but no one was going to call