Page 35 of Brightness

I reach out to pick up another one, but her eyes widen as her hand comes out, stopping me just as I go to put it in my mouth. “You shouldn’t if you plan on riding back any time soon.”

I scoff, shoving the whole thing in my mouth at once. “One more for the road,” I say with my mouth full of the tasty treat.

Trixie grimaces, shaking her head. “You should let it hit you and mellow out before you take off, VP.”

I wave my hand through the air. “I’m built outta brick, Trix. I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know how it goes, though, okay?” I turn to walk out of this elite fucking setup to the main café, Trixie following me apprehensively.

I spend a while talking shit with Trixie about her new recipes and how the shop is going, but I need to get back. As I make it to the front of the café, West strolls inside for protective and clean up detail.

My skin begins to prickle. My head starts to feel like it’s floating or spinning, not sure which. Clearing my throat as I walk over to West, I grip his shoulder and look directly into his eyes. Seeing my reflection in them, I could almost swear my irises are red… I blink a few times, shaking the image away.

He tilts his head, studying me. “You okay, VP?”

“Call me if there are further problems. I dealt with the idiots who were here, so I don’t expect any further issues,” I say, ignoring his question.

West nods.

I slap his back, then turn for the exit.

“Void,” Trixie calls out. I turn back to look at her and blink a few more times to get things into perspective. Is there two of her?

“Ride slow, okay?”

I give her a two-fingered salute and head out the door toward my ride. The shining chrome is even brighter today. Fuck, she’s beautiful! I blink rapidly again, shielding my eyes as I walk over, then slide quickly onto my bike.

I shouldn’t ride, but the trip home is short.

I know I can make it.

As I take off, my bike lurches. I widen my eyes, not anticipating the speed in which I accelerate. Still, I hang on, taking all the appropriate turns, focusing on the road with all my attention. I need to concentrate so I make it back in one fucking piece.

I’m not sure how, but as my eyes focus, I try to take in my surroundings and figure out where the hell I am. From what I can tell, I’m about twenty minutes in the opposite direction of the clubhouse, out on Van Dyke Road. Fairly sure my bike’s swerving, I try to correct it, zeroing my eyes in on the road like a hawk. The trees on either side of this stretch of asphalt are monotonous.

Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree.

A sense of foreboding creeps in and takes hold.

I need to keep focused.

I blink rapidly, narrowing my eyes, but a white statue up ahead on the edge of the road catches my attention. As I approach, I take my eyes off the road for a second.

Only one second.

The statue isn’t a statue at all—it’s an image of my father.

My body jerks as panic sears through me. I pull on the throttle, making my back tire squeal and then slide out from under me. My bike hitches, turning to the side, catches on something, then I’m hurtled off over the handlebars. Time slows as I fly in cartwheels through the air, my bike somersaulting along the road. The sound of metal scratching, breaking, and squealing grinds in my ears as I fly across the top of the asphalt, the whole thing playing out in slow-fucking-motion. The sky is so blue. I’m flying! But I’m brought back to reality as I slam down hard onto the road. Sliding along, my body rolls with the friction, and I groan as my skin is torn to pieces, my jeans ripping apart. Eventually, I come to a stop in a ditch at the side of the road.

My head spins like a motherfucker, and my body aches so damn much I want to hurl. I look around and see my bike resting against a tree in the ditch a few feet away from me. I lie on my back, looking up at the sky, panting for breath as the clouds form skulls and crossbones above me. I must still be fucking tripping. I rest in the ditch, broken and bleeding.

I’m not sure how long I stay here for, staring up at the skulls. I swear they’re mocking me, but I need to do something. I can’t just lie here. My hand slides into my jeans pocket for my cell.

I cough, and my entire body tenses, the pain incredible as I bring my cell into my line of sight and dial the number I need right now—Nerve.

“VP! Everything okay at Trixie’s?”

I grimace, shifting on the ground to try and get some semblance of comfort. “Nerve… I’m tripping hard. I’ve eaten asphalt, brother, in a bad way.”

“Fuck! How bad are you hurt? Do you need an EMT?”

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