Once again, I found myself battered by foliage as I followed the path, albeit at a slower speed. I didn't need a low-hanging branch to clothesline me in the dark, and maybe the cop might beat me to the next opening; if I was going slower, they might drive past. The thought made me slow down even further and turn off the headlight as I drove for a while longer.
When I drew near the next opening, I brought my bike to a stop and shut the engine off. Sighing, I flipped my leg over the bike and kept hold of the handlebars to push it. I was now much closer to the city, and I could hear the distant sounds of traffic. More importantly, as I came to a stop a few yards from the gap in the trail onto another road, I could hear another vehicle.
Where the foliage had been against me, it now worked in my favor as I watched the car drive past, wisely having the lights off as it coasted slowly. I was in deep shit if the cop decided to get out and check the paths. Even leaving the bike would let the guy check the plate and registration and find me in no time. All I could do was stand there and hope the cop stayed in their cruiser and didn't investigate the area.
It quieted down after a few minutes, but that only made me raise an eyebrow. I pulled off my helmet and set it on the seat of my bike, carefully moving forward until I smirked when I spotted the cop parked on the other side of the road. Clearly, they must have thought I hadn't made it out yet or was going to creep out in a direction that I wouldn't be able to backpedal from quickly.
Thankfully, I spotted them and was able to back up and grab my bike, turning it around by hand and retracing my steps. I probably could have waited the officer out, but the last thing I wanted to do was risk having the badge strolling around and checking the paths. And since they were clearly busying themselves waiting for me, that meant they were occupied for a while.
It took me longer to walk, but I kept going until I was back on the path. It took me almost half an hour to cautiously move back toward the road I’d first left and then to ensure that the cop didn't reappear. When it seemed like I was going to be left alone, I jammed my helmet back on before firing up the bike. This time, however, I didn't gun it or continue my original plan, because I’d had more than enough excitement for the night, and I wasn't sixteen anymore. I didn't feel the need to keep pushing my luck.
The trip back to the city was uneventful, considering how interesting my scenic ride to the city outskirts had been. The only thing of note was the way the darkness of the suburban roads gave way to the lights and life of the inner city.
I navigated past what had been referred to as the Gras district. My father told me that the district's original use in his parents’ time was for criminals and the poor to go about their business. There, people could find drink but also trouble, as organized crime found a foothold in the city.
After that, it stuck with its criminal roots until the sixties, when a revitalization occurred, as the flower children not only found love but also gained a bit of backbone. With help from local government and police, they transformed it into a place where, during the day, people could enjoy good food, and when the sun went down, the nightlife would come out to play.
Now, it wasn't much different, though the restaurants had changed over the years, and so had the bars and clubs. During the day, it was relatively quiet as people grabbed their lunchesand dinners, usually moving on because although the Gras District was a place to find great food, both pricey and cheap, they didn't want to stick around when the bars and clubs opened.
My family's hotel lay just past the point where the district ended. Just far enough away that people could find peace and quiet to rest for the night, but near enough that they didn't have to go far for a bit of fun either. It was my mother's parents who had bought the place and turned it into a hotel, but it was my mother and father who turned it into a popular spot to stay. That reputation had wobbled back and forth over the years, but there had never been a time that I could recall when we were in danger of losing everything.
"What the hell," I muttered with a laugh as I rounded the corner to see the mostly familiar sight of the family hotel nestled in the middle of the block. Mostly because the last time I'd been here, it hadn't been splashed with a collage of colors, making it look like a unicorn had puked all over it. It was gaudy and eye-catching, which, considering my mother, made a great deal of sense. "Mom, I knew you'd done some renovations, but this is something else."
Not that I was going to complain; my mother was my mother, and anyone who knew her knew she would do what she wanted. It wouldn't always make sense, at least not to anyone but her, but that was how it was. The one thing you could count on was that it wouldn't be 'normal' or 'expected.' The woman was as stubborn as she was free-spirited, and no one, not even my late father or the man she'd married a few years later, had tamed her. It was something that I, with great pride, had inherited from her.
I came to a stop out front, looked up at the sign, and repeated, in a far more annoyed tone. “What the hell?"
Where once there had been a well-lit sign that read ‘Beckett Place,' there was now a sign that read 'Lincoln Home.' Mygood mood threatened to dry up as I smacked down the kickstand with my foot and turned the engine off. Lincoln was my stepdad's surname, which my mother had taken when they married, but which Moira and I had turned down, wanting to keep our father's name. Seeing our father's name gone from the building left a sour taste in my mouth, and a piece of my father that I hadn't even realized existed felt like it had been thrown away.
With a snort, I yanked off my helmet and slapped it onto the bike, engaging the lock that wouldn't let the engine turn on unless my key was in the ignition and a passcode had been punched into the fob. Swinging my leg around, I heard the swish of automatic doors and looked up to find my sister descending the steps, one brow raised so high it had nearly fused with her hairline—a clear sign she was pissed and I was about to get an earful.
"Moira," I called, leaning back against my bike and grinning. "I see we're still dressing like a mix of school teacher and pirate with just a touch of hooker thrown in."
Okay fine, the only thing 'hooker' was the thigh-high leather heeled boots. Or at least I assumed they went up to her thigh, her skirt billowed around her knees, so I couldn't actually see. She had a long, black vest over her blouse, the edges tapered to points that dangled below her waist, and was studded with silver buttons. There was a gold coin with a hole through it dangling from the necklace. She had apparently nixed the pixie cut I'd told her last time we'd video chatted, made her look like she was going to demand to speak with the manager, and replaced it with shaved sides and a mohawk that partially stood up and half-hung to one side.
They were hooker boots, though.
"How nice of you to join us," she said wryly. "Never mind that Mom has been waiting for you since you were supposed to show up...seven hours ago."
"Well, I might have taken the long way."
"Seven-hour detour, Mason? Really?"
"A really long way."
"Did it not have cell service? Because we've both called you. Several times."
"Reception was...spotty."
"You turned your phone off."
"I...turned my phone off."
She sighed, pushing a clump of hair out of her face. "Seriously? You could have just said you were going to show up in the middle of the night. You know damn well Mom and I wouldn't have cared and would have just caught you in the morning. The only reason she's in bed is because I swore I was going to stay up until you decided to roll in."
"Mmm," I said, crossing one ankle over the other. "And how much did you have to promise her that you wouldn't maim or kill me before she believed you?"
She continued down the sidewalk toward me, her eyes narrowed as she approached. "A lot more than I would've liked. I was starting to think she didn't believe me."
