Tuesday, May 27, 2014

SS: Kismet PT III

7AM ON A SATURDAY MORNING:

I want to rewind time. My heart thrums painfully in my chest and I can feel my vision starting to slip traction on the matte object in front of me. I want to go back, I want to rewind, but I am stuck in the motion of this path my body is hurtling down. The ache in my chest now feels like a full on heart attack, I think I might be dying or maybe I just want this moment to end. I want to close my eyes and erase it all. I want this day to disappear, I want this moment to disintegrate, I wish I could go back and keep myself from leaving that damn party.


EARLIER THAT MORNING:
Logan was a charmer. He was tall enough for me to have to crane my neck slightly as I looked up toward his smiling face while we chatted outside of the party house. My friend had ditched me, my ride to the party had also ditched me, I was on my last leg of patience when I tripped out of the smokey house and found Logan standing in the shadows. So mysterious and intriguing, there was no question in my mind that I wanted to talk to him. I didn't really think twice when he asked if I was ready to leave and offered to give me a ride home. Rationalizing that I had pepper spray on me just in case eased my mind as he walked me toward his car.

"You live far?" he asked as he hopped off the curb toward a deserted alley way across the street. My alarm sensors went off in a spark of awareness. Alley way....dark...alone....crap.

"Not too far, just over the hill really." My voice only shook slightly, but I kept my cool together and moved slowly behind him beneath the dull glow of the street light. At the moment we were at the base of the famous Beverly Hills though by the looks of it you would never guess. There was a broken glass bottle hanging in the dry grassy gutter and as I crossed the street a random bum yelled, 'nice tush!' but I couldn't really tell if he was yelling it at me or the hunky leather jacket wearing man in front of me.

Logan flicked the butt of his cigarette in a pinwheel toward the dry gutter letting it land in a spray of ash and sparks before dying beside the abandoned broken glass. Beverly Hills is truly so very classy.

"You ok wearing a helmet?"

My first immediate response was, "huh?" thinking why I would need a helmet in a car but the thought died in my throat when I looked at his ride. No wonder he was wearing a leather jacket, he rode a matte black Harley Davidson. It looked like the stealth bike of an underground mafia member. Logan was anything but a mafia member. His long blonde hair and steely blue eyes projected surfer boy more than Italian mob wise guy.

"Yeah, I would like to if that's what I'm going to be riding home in...on," I said quickly trying really hard not to show that I had never before been on two wheel contraption of death and destruction.

Logan smiled heartily and moved toward me to hand me the helmet to which I just stared at. He took his cue and plopped it on my head before buckling the strange leather pieces beneath my chin. It felt like the ground was starting to rumble beneath my legs but I quickly realized it was just the thrumming power of the engine placed so dangerously close Logan's seat. I was terrified to say the least.

The look on Logan's face was absolutely priceless. "I promise you Grace, I will drive slow and make sure you are safe. Just make sure to hold on tight ok?"

My vision bobbed up and down but I wasn't quite sure I made my head move or if the helmet's weight had snapped the muscles in my neck making me jiggled my head in a nonsensical jello like fashion. He took it as a yes and practically pulled me on the bike behind him. He rattled off a few words of warning to which I understood not a single syllable of it. The one thing I did hear was, "HOLD ON TIGHT!" He grabbed hold of each of my hands and secured them around his waist.

Tight was an understatement, I had a death grip on his body that even a bucking rhino couldn't get out of. I felt every single breath he took, though I wasn't sure if it was  more exaggerated because of my death lock around his abdomen. He didn't mention any concerns, and by the face that ten minutes into the ride he was still sitting upright instead of fainting off the side of the bike was a good sign.

"HEY!" He yelled over his shoulder as we winded down the Sepulveda back road toward the Valley. "ARE YOU HUNGRY?"

Surprisingly I was. It was also almost 5 in the morning and I could feel the effects of hunger starting to dig into the pit of my stomach. "Yeah! I could eat." I was pretty confident he heard my chirp. The death bike pulled off the residential road and onto the main strip of Ventura Blvd. It looked like a ghost town.

The engine purred subtly at a stop light and Logan angled his neck to look over his shoulder at me. "You look pretty cute in that helmet." He smirked and I knew full well he was full of shit. I looked like  tiny bug with a head five sizes too large. If cute was what he wanted to call it though, I would take it.

"Thanks," I replied softly. "Where are you taking me?"

"To where every man wants to be when he is awake at 5 in the morning."

My stomach dropped toward my knees. "Excuse me?"

"To a Diner Grace, I'm taking you to a breakfast Diner. Relax, it's way to early in the day to take you home with me," he said with a smirk and a saucy wink. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to saucily wink, it was aggravating and also slightly encouraging. The big leather encased man was growing on me.

We stopped at one of my absolute favorite cafe's in Sherman Oaks The Crave Cafe. It was where I stopped for most of my secluded down time and much needed pile of strawberry crepes. Plus their coffee was spot on delicious and perfectly crammed with delicious sugary sweetness. He didn't even need to ask and he knew the best place in my stomping grounds. As he pulled in to a small section of parking just in front of the place I wondered allowed where he lived.

"Actually not to far from her. I'm just a little ways back up Sepulveda."

I didn't ask any further questions and he didn't offer any but that was a very telling sentence. Only those in houses lived on the far South side of Ventura, and usually only those with a good grip of cash could afford it. As annoying as it is to admit the idea of him having a good sense of financial responsibility intrigued me more, but it wasn't the money that I liked, it was the sense that he knew how to take care of himself. He knew how to live comfortably and responsibly. It's one of the main qualities I looked for in a man, the other one's are more based on detailed personality traits.

"You ever been here before?" Logan asked conversationally as we walked toward the deserted looking building.

"Yeah, I actually come here a lot to work on my writing and what not," I said trying my best to sound nonchalant. He didn't really respond he merely raised his eyebrows in intrigue as the overly peppy server behind the counter asked what he could get for us. It was 515, no normal person should be allowed to be that peppy at 515 on a Saturday morning.

Logan ordered several random plates saying we could just eat whatever felt good and I ordered a large caramel latte. The foam and caramel mix tasted like heaven as the velvety drink slipped over my tongue and into my empty stomach. I hummed my deep appreciation for the beverage as I settled more comfortable into the wide sofa Logan chose to sit on.

We talked for almost an hour and  half about everything and nothing. He seemed so well verse and intriguing. I truly didn't want the evening/ morning to end, but I had plans with a girlfriend of mine later that day and he had other obligations too.

"Thank you so much for breakfast," I said softly almost slightly embarrassed because he had just asked me for my number.

I should state ahead of time that when I become embarrassed and or a little shocked/giddy about a moment I tend to lose all simple functions of my motor skills. My lips can no longer form coherent words and my smile tends to twitch in it's angst ridden desire to stay wide and pleasing. It makes me come across as a total dweebie nerd that for the most part has cause a lot of trauma in the past, but I learn from my mistakes.

After Logan's smooth digit asking question I excused myself to the restroom to shake out the nerves and twitchy muscles that were jolting through my body a mile a minute. I needed air, I needed to breath, I need to calm the frack down! Logan said no worries as I rushed away in a panic of jitters calling out that he would meet me outside.

Once I was able to violently shake away my ridiculous tremors I shoved my consciousness into my best sex kitten projection and strutted my way toward the front of the cafe. Logan was no where to be seen so I assumed as anyone would that he had also taken a trip to the lavatory (as I like to call in in my head as it sounds so much better than the toilet) while he was waiting for me. In anticipation of riding on the beast of black metal I plucked the heavy helmet from the back of his bike and began the laborious process of shoving the giant plastic piece onto my significantly smaller head. I almost had it in place when I lost my footing on the curb plummeting the six inches to the hard paved street and lunging forward as my shoe connected jarring my ankle harshly to the side. With the helmet still only half on I couldn't quite see what I was doing but my arms jolted out in front of me to keep me from falling flat on my face.

What happened next I couldn't have changed even if I had wanted to, even if I had thoroughly had several minutes to think through the scene before my eyes there was no way around my completely disastrous actions. As I reached forward trying to catch my own fall without the slightest clue of my surroundings my forearms connected jarringly with harsh sun heated metal. Luckily what I connected with stopped my forward motion keeping me from falling forward, but unfortunately as I righted myself and ripped the helmet off of my head I realized what caught my fall.

Logan's beautiful black Harley lay tipped on its side half in the parking area and half on the side of the street. Traffic wasn't so heavy just yet, but there were cars on the road and in a moment of pure panic my body lost control and I started to hyperventilate. "Shit shit shit!!!" I rushed forward and tried to upright the bike but it was far too heavy for me to lift alone. I saw traffic rumbling down the street just a mile or so in the distance and the panic doubled into overdrive. My stomach seized in fear of what Logan's reaction would be. I had never in all my life done something so horribly wrong to someone I barely knew. He could very well be an angry person and one tiny scratch on his baby might send him over the edge. I didn't really had time to dwell though as I tried for the third time to lift his bike he strut out of the Cafe. I watched as his brilliant smile flipped down into a troubling frown.

"Um...what the hell?"

My mouth opened and out spilled or torrent of rambling apologies and words that even I had a hard time understanding. Logan remained silent. He walked over toward me and lifted the bike out of my hands in one jerk of motion. Rushing over to the other side Logan inspected the outer surface looking for possible defects, scratches, or permanent damage. His pristine matte paint job looked like a scratched pock marked chalk board.

"I am so so sorry Logan. I really didn't mean to. I was trying to put the helmet on and I just tripped and fell over! I....I am really sorry."

He didn't say much, and I didn't really expect him to. He was being nice driving me home, and he was being overly nice buying me breakfast. I have to say I felt really bad right up until he yanked the helmet out of my hands and jammed it down on his own head. His leg lunged over the side of the bike and with a stomp of his foot the beast roared to life. I didn't actually expect him to be nice toward me after I just dumped his bike over into a pile of sharp and unforgiving rocks but I really didn't think he would be such a prick either.

He shook his head in my direction and I could swear I heard him say something, but he peeled away from the curb before I could really comprehend.

I stood there for several minutes before the shock wore off and the anger set in and I realized that he had just ditched me on the side of the road without a ride home. Thankfully I was only a few miles from my apartment complex. A walk would be perfect to work off not only my breakfast but also my anger.

I vowed then and there to never EVER go to another show with my friend Diamond again and matte Black motorcycles were strictly OFF LIMITS!

UPDATE: Three weeks later I remembered what Logan said, and I admit it is not appropriate to repeat. But I happened to see him about two weeks after the horrible incident and thankfully I was looking mighty fine if I must say so myself. Amazingly he approached me and apologized profusely. He said there was no damage to his precious bike and that he was hoping I could forgive him for being such a prick and ditching me. He asked me out to dinner.

Outwardly I thanked him for his apology and sweetly told him no, I was not interested. Inwardly I was jumping up and down in a fit of joy at my sweet delicious retribution. My 'no' gave him the distinct expression that I had just peed in his Cheery-O's. Not so cheery now are you mister ass hat! No thank you, I will not be going on a date with you, and you can thank Kismet for that one.