T, D & H

It would have been an ordinary day, one that would have passed like every other if she hadn’t seen him. If she hadn’t heard the roar from the motorcycle as he pulled into the slot in front of the pharmacy. If she hadn’t stood at the window, mesmerized watching him swing his leg over the bike, tuck his aviators in the chest pocket of his leather jacket. If she hadn’t watched him finger comb his brown hair while he did a slow 360, taking in Main Street.

To say he was tall dark and handsome would be too easy.

Later they would say that they had known he was trouble, a drifter, a hustler who had probably left a whole heap of hurt behind. They would nod sagely and agree they had seen it coming. After all, he was a tempter, who deceiver and hated. They should have run him out of town days ago, they said.

But when Ella looked at him, she saw the tenderness of James Dean waiting on his motorbike at the corner. His lazy smile raking over her before he’d lent her his leather jacket. She could see the delight of Paul Newman as his eyes sparkled and his smile held the promise to teach her what she’d been dying to learn. And she saw hurt in him like Steve McQueen, casually leaning against a racecar, a need to prove himself but too cool to let on that he needed anyone.

Her mother might have warned her, her father could have threatened to lock her in her room. Her girlfriends would have both envied and hated her. As it was, they gasped and shook their heads in disbelief.

The radio segued from Elvis’ Heartbreak Hotel into Jailhouse Rock. Ella had just finished wiping down the tables and chairs, was about to clean the glass front of the freezer case when she heard the motorcycle. When he finished looking around, he looked straight at her. When he caught her spying on him, he smiled and winked. She blushed and scurried away from the window.

The bell over the door made the same sound it always did, as if he was a regular person.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He folded his arms on the top of the freezer. Rested his chin on his fists. “What’s your name?”

“Ella.” Her voice was softer than usual, her eyes down.

“Would you give me a glass of water, Ella?” He tried to catch her eye.

She started to set the glass on the counter, but he wrapped his hand around hers and drained the glass in one before letting go.

“What else are you selling, Ella?”

She made a weak gesture around the store. He didn’t take his eyes off her.

“E-everything.” She had meant to say anything, hadn’t she?

He cocked one eyebrow, his mouth tilted up to one side. “Well, in that case, I’m buying, sweetheart. What time do you get off?

“Me? I get off at six.” She breathed.

“Good.” He straightened and winked at her again just before he left. She watched him walk down the street, pass by the Savings & Loan, till he turned the corner onto Veteran’s Street. There, a few blocks up, was a pool hall, a boxing gym, boarding house, and a liquor store.

The high school kids circled around the bike that afternoon, each one claiming more first-hand experience and hearsay knowledge of a bike just like this one. The girls were quickly bored with the topic and sat at the counter, popped their gum, sucked on their shakes, shared their lipsticks, and told secrets about the boys they were dating.

By five-thirty Silvers' Pharmacy and Soda Shoppe was quiet again. Mr. Silvers was still in the back room. She had stopped wondering what he did back there. He said he was mixing medications, but she didn’t know there were so many sick people in town. She scrubbed down the tables and chairs, cleaned the fingerprints off the freezer case again and washed the last of the glasses and dishes.

At six she shouted out to Mr. Silvers that she was leaving and released the latch on the lock as she closed the door behind herself. The motorbike was still sitting where he had parked it so many hours ago. She took a step or two closer to the bike.

“Want a ride?” He had been leaning against the wall between Silvers’ and Matt’s barber shop, hands stuffed in his jean’s pockets, cigarette between his lips.

Ella swung around; she hadn’t known he was waiting. “Me? You’re asking me?”

He pushed away from the wall, made a point of looking left and right. “Don’t see nobody else. You?” He grinned as he spat out the butt.

He took her to the quarry. They sat in the tall grass, talked, he taught her to smoke and drink beer. He said he came from “east” and was going “west.” Claimed his name was “Joe Something.” She laughed at that. “No really,” he looked sad. “My mom named me after my father. Joe Something. My last name is Ornuther.”

When he took her home, she told him to drop her at the corner. He shrugged and nodded. It wasn’t the first time. He picked her up at six the next day and the day after. They found places up in the hills, watched the sunset, drank beer, and smoked cigarettes. He taught her to kiss. She let him touch her breasts through her uniform.

He told her he spent his days playing pool. “Just make enough to get by.” Said he did okay, could do better in bigger towns. She told him she wanted to get out of town. Would he take her with him when he moved on? Sure, he said and opened another button on her dress.

Of course, they had been seen when he picked her up at the pharmacy, when they roared through town. People had frowned and shaken their heads. Some raised a fist at the noise of the bike. Ella and Joe laughed, found hidden corners to whisper about plans and later. He taught her what he liked. She was a good student.

On Thursday morning, about ten days after he had come to town, Ella walked to work like she always did. As she passed behind the Savings & Loan, Joe hurried from the building, jumped on his bike. Grinning, he slowed just enough for her to jump on then he sped off, out of town. Within minutes they were on the highway, heading west.

“Where are we going?” She shouted. Trying to make her voice carry against the wind. He didn’t answer. She made sure she had a death grip on her bag, which held her savings and wrapped her arms a little tighter around his waist. She buried her face in the soft worn leather of his jacket and hung on. Joe raced on. Staying one step ahead of himself, for now.

They had all nodded, yes, they had known something would happen. Could have told that he’d be terribly dangerous and a hazard.