Page 39 of The Bikers Redemption

“What’s going on? You’re worrying me,” she says, concern evident in her voice.

“Please, Liv, I can’t explain right now, but I’m on my way to Houston. I’ll tell you everything when I arrive..

“Oh my God, Serena. You’re not joking. Okay, yes, come. Do you need me to pick you up?”

“I’ll call you when I arrive, and you can pick me up then.”

Hearing voices behind me, I turn to see people getting back on the bus, and I quickly say, “I have to go, Liv. Promise me you won’t tell Harley I called.”

“What? Why? What does Harley have to do with any of this?”

“Please, Liv, just promise me. I don’t have time to explain right now.”

“Okay, I promise. But Serena, are you in any sort of trouble?”

“I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. See you then.”

We hang up, and I quickly walk into the gas station to buy water and potato chips. I haven’t eaten, and feel sick. I need to get something in my stomach.

I pay by cash, thank the man behind the counter, and walk to the bus.

It’s not long before we’re on the road again.

“Excuse me, miss. We’re here.”

My eyes flutter open, and I cover them from the sun steaming through the windows. “Where are we?” I ask the man who’s woken me up.

“Houston. Did you get on the wrong bus?”

Oh, crap, that’s right.

“No. Sorry, I am just tired. Thank you.”

The bus driver turns and heads toward the front. I stand, grab my bag from the overhead compartment, and exit the bus. I need a shower and a coffee, not necessarily in that order. I head to the station and find a payphone once again.

“Hello?”

” Hey, Liv, I’m here. Can you pick me up from the station?”

“Sure, I’ll leave now.”

“Thank you.”

It’s about ten minutes later when I recognize Liv’s yellow Volkswagen driving toward me. I don’t know why she keeps that old car, but she says there’s nothing wrong with it, and it is sentimental to her. I guess if she loves it that much, but geez, that thing needs a good paint job or something.

When she sees me, she beeps the horn, and I wave. She parks the car on the side street and comes running toward me. Her long, wavy black hair is in a high bun, and she’s wearing her activewear shorts and tank top, making me believe she’s just come back from the gym.

Liv loves the gym. She works out every day, which is why she has the best abs, thighs, and butt. I wish I could have a smidgen of what she’s got. I’ve been told I’m hot and could be mistaken for a model, but I have nothing on Liv. She’s naturally beautiful and doesn’t know it.

We embrace, and I realize it’s only been a couple of weeks since I last saw her.

“Here, let me take this. Let’s go, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” she says. I hand over my bag, and she places it in the trunk, gets in, and unlocks my door from the inside.

I sit in the passenger seat, noticing the creaking sound when I shut the door. “Liv, you really need to get a new car.”

“No, I don’t. Diadora is a good girl, aren’t you, Diadora?” she says, wiping her hand over the dashboard.

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