Miranda felt happier than she had in a long time, she was actually going on a date. Oh she had offers of dates from many of her male co-workers, but had refused them all. Some were married, some asked out of pity and the rest came from males that wanted to say they scored with some biker woman .
She washed and waxed her bike as it had been awhile since she had been out on it. Then started it to make sure the battery charge had not diminished, it fired up on the first kick. She then disappeared into the house where she showered, washed her hair and then spent a great deal of time applying her make up. She had not done this in awhile, not since the funeral. She spent even a longer time deciding what to wear before deciding on black spandex jeans, a black t-shirt and her old leather vest.
There were momentary tears when she ran her hand over the impression left by the "Property of Boots, White Line Losers" patch that had been sewn on the back. When Boots passed she removed the patch and returned it to the club, as the rules dictated. The club president who was Boots' long time friend gave it back to her a couple of days later when he came for a visit, it was now encased in a beautiful wooden frame.
Her life then came to a standstill after the funeral. Her job was going nowhere and her social life at a standstill.so plans had been made to relocate to Nevada where some long time friends resided. They offered her a place to stay and assistance in finding employment. The money from Boots' life insurance policy had paid for the funeral with enough left over to make the move possible in event the house didn't sell, she had started to pack up the house and locate a moving company and a realtor.
But first she had to sell his Harley as she didn't want to transport two bikes across county, and that's when the trouble selling his bike began. Now that trouble was behind her she thought as she pulled the old license plate from her saddle bags and looked at it as she spoke.
"Well Boots, you must really like this kid."
At exactly 7:00 PM she heard Boots' cycle coming up the street, she would know that sound anywhere. He slowly motored up the drive and his mouth hung open at the sight of her when she answered his knock at the door.
"Wow, you look terrific," he said, blushing again.
She saw that he wore blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a black wind breaker.
"You look pretty good yourself."
Miranda closed up the house and then she mounted her bike. Side by side they rode into the twilight and arrived at Ramblers about half an hour later. Ken watched Miranda walk her bike into a parking space and prayed that he could do the same and not make a fool of himself, he was surprised that he did it on the first try.
There were a number of club members standing outside when they pulled up, and the group cheered when she rode up and parked her bike. They grew silent when they saw Boots' bike pull up and park next to hers.
Fear clutched at Ken's insides as the group approached, Miranda must have sensed his fear and stood next to him and whispered for him to remain calm. They greeted her warmly and then eyed the young stranger warily, but said nothing. They walked in together and were met by the club president who gave her a hug before turning his gaze to Ken.
"So this is the kid that started Brother Boots' cycle?
"This is Ken."
The president shook his hand and Ken was made to feel welcome. As Miranda went off to greet old friends, Ken was led to the pool tables where he was challenged to a game of pool, which he won. He won the following two games in a row. Finally the club enforcer stepped up and challenged him, and also issued a threat of an ass whipping if he sensed he was being allowed to win.
It was a hell of a game, actually three games as they had both won a game so they used the best two out of three option. Ken took a seat at the bar and ordered a Coke.
"Ya wanna beer?" the president and bartender asked.
"I am not old enough."
" I didn't ask your age I asked it you want a beer?"
"Yes," and a tall frosty mug was sat down before him.
The club president came around and sat down next him.
"So how you like our little slice of Heaven?"
"I love it," he replied struggling to keep his voice calm.
"You frightened?"
"Hell yes."
"Why?"
"You guys are big and I'm afraid of getting stomped on if I say something wrong."
"Kid the only way you will get stomped is if you start a fight with one of us or man handle someone's girlfriend."
The president walked away and Miranda walked over and sat next to him and ordered a drink.
"I hear you play a mean game of pool?"
Ken smiled and told her about the game. Miranda smiled when he finished the story ending it with that he could not understand how he beat those two players, he was not that good. Miranda contemplated telling him that Boots was a hell of a pool player, she decided against it.
The jukebox came to life and Miranda looked him in the eyes.
"So are you going to ask me to dance?"
Ken took her by the hand and they joined the other couples on the dance floor.
She washed and waxed her bike as it had been awhile since she had been out on it. Then started it to make sure the battery charge had not diminished, it fired up on the first kick. She then disappeared into the house where she showered, washed her hair and then spent a great deal of time applying her make up. She had not done this in awhile, not since the funeral. She spent even a longer time deciding what to wear before deciding on black spandex jeans, a black t-shirt and her old leather vest.
There were momentary tears when she ran her hand over the impression left by the "Property of Boots, White Line Losers" patch that had been sewn on the back. When Boots passed she removed the patch and returned it to the club, as the rules dictated. The club president who was Boots' long time friend gave it back to her a couple of days later when he came for a visit, it was now encased in a beautiful wooden frame.
Her life then came to a standstill after the funeral. Her job was going nowhere and her social life at a standstill.so plans had been made to relocate to Nevada where some long time friends resided. They offered her a place to stay and assistance in finding employment. The money from Boots' life insurance policy had paid for the funeral with enough left over to make the move possible in event the house didn't sell, she had started to pack up the house and locate a moving company and a realtor.
But first she had to sell his Harley as she didn't want to transport two bikes across county, and that's when the trouble selling his bike began. Now that trouble was behind her she thought as she pulled the old license plate from her saddle bags and looked at it as she spoke.
"Well Boots, you must really like this kid."
At exactly 7:00 PM she heard Boots' cycle coming up the street, she would know that sound anywhere. He slowly motored up the drive and his mouth hung open at the sight of her when she answered his knock at the door.
"Wow, you look terrific," he said, blushing again.
She saw that he wore blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a black wind breaker.
"You look pretty good yourself."
Miranda closed up the house and then she mounted her bike. Side by side they rode into the twilight and arrived at Ramblers about half an hour later. Ken watched Miranda walk her bike into a parking space and prayed that he could do the same and not make a fool of himself, he was surprised that he did it on the first try.
There were a number of club members standing outside when they pulled up, and the group cheered when she rode up and parked her bike. They grew silent when they saw Boots' bike pull up and park next to hers.
Fear clutched at Ken's insides as the group approached, Miranda must have sensed his fear and stood next to him and whispered for him to remain calm. They greeted her warmly and then eyed the young stranger warily, but said nothing. They walked in together and were met by the club president who gave her a hug before turning his gaze to Ken.
"So this is the kid that started Brother Boots' cycle?
"This is Ken."
The president shook his hand and Ken was made to feel welcome. As Miranda went off to greet old friends, Ken was led to the pool tables where he was challenged to a game of pool, which he won. He won the following two games in a row. Finally the club enforcer stepped up and challenged him, and also issued a threat of an ass whipping if he sensed he was being allowed to win.
It was a hell of a game, actually three games as they had both won a game so they used the best two out of three option. Ken took a seat at the bar and ordered a Coke.
"Ya wanna beer?" the president and bartender asked.
"I am not old enough."
" I didn't ask your age I asked it you want a beer?"
"Yes," and a tall frosty mug was sat down before him.
The club president came around and sat down next him.
"So how you like our little slice of Heaven?"
"I love it," he replied struggling to keep his voice calm.
"You frightened?"
"Hell yes."
"Why?"
"You guys are big and I'm afraid of getting stomped on if I say something wrong."
"Kid the only way you will get stomped is if you start a fight with one of us or man handle someone's girlfriend."
The president walked away and Miranda walked over and sat next to him and ordered a drink.
"I hear you play a mean game of pool?"
Ken smiled and told her about the game. Miranda smiled when he finished the story ending it with that he could not understand how he beat those two players, he was not that good. Miranda contemplated telling him that Boots was a hell of a pool player, she decided against it.
The jukebox came to life and Miranda looked him in the eyes.
"So are you going to ask me to dance?"
Ken took her by the hand and they joined the other couples on the dance floor.
