Page 5 of Brick

"I already told you. We're going to my home."

"And where exactly is that? What part of the city?"

"We'll be there soon. Hang tight." He pats my knee, and the bike revs under me. It's exhilarating the faster he goes. When he leans far to the right to make a turn, I can't help but giggle at the thrill of it. We're so close to the ground that if I reach my hand out, I can feel the asphalt.

Grabbing hold of Brick tighter, I feel his muscles bunching and releasing with every move of the bike. It's almost as if he's using his whole body to tame the beast between his legs. It's impressive. Soon we get to an even worse part of town, and I'm no longer thinking about the thrill of riding behind him. Now I'm trying to remember all the true crime documentaries I've seen that ended just like this—a silly girl on the back of a stranger's motorcycle that ends up buried in the backyard somewhere.

I'm not going to be a statistic.

"Where the hell are you taking me?" I ask him again, and this time I punctuate it with a hit to his side.

"I said relax," he shouts over his shoulder.

There's no way I can get off the bike without him stopping. I'm just going to have to deal with whatever he has planned for me when he stops.

I'm tense. By the time he pulls the bike to a stop, my body is nearly shaking with pent-up rage.

He's pulled his bike into what looks like a strip mall. The building in front of us has the shutters down. It doesn't look like someone's house. In fact, it looks like an office of some sort. There are stacks of concrete blocks and wood beams.

Thinking back on the first time I met him, it was inside his warehouse. He was a contractor of some sort. I guess this was what he called his home base.

"You live here?" I ask as I walk behind him in the direction of the large building.

"Is that a problem?" His voice is a deep snarl.

Of course he'd think that I was judging him. To be honest, I am a little. I may not have the best setup, but at least my small apartment kept me warm and away from the elements.

"No, not a problem. I was just curious." I shrug and continue walking behind him warily.

"I've got a first aid kit in here." He pulls out a set of keys and opens the door.

"Are you sure you're supposed to be here at night? I mean, isn't your boss going to be pissed?"

He chuckles and shakes his head before he takes a step inside. I hesitate before I follow him inside.

"So you just automatically assume that I'm breaking in. It never crossed your mind that this place belongs to me?"

I look around the jam-packed office. I don't see any photos of him, but I don't see any photos of anyone else either.

"Is it yours?"

"Bought and paid for." He tilts his head to the side once before he turns and walks further into the back.

This time I'm less scared to follow behind him. If he wanted to do something to me, he would've done it already.

"Come on, sit here." He gestures to a seat. Behind it, against the wall, are what looks like examples of some of his work. I find myself walking over to where there are a few blueprints on the table.

"You did this?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"Let me guess, you don’t think someone like me would be able to do something like that?" Brick rolls his eyes and looks away.

Already I can tell that I’m not going to like spending any time with him.

"I don’t know what kind of chip you have on your shoulder, but knock that shit off." I push away from the table and wince when I see the handprint of blood on the wood.

Brick’s mouth opens and closes a few times as he thinks about what I’ve just said.

"It’s not a chip; it’s a fucking crater," he finally replies.

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