Outside was a silver Jeep Wrangler. He opened the passenger door and ushered me in, moving the bag with my pjs, purse, and toiletries from the passenger seat onto the back seat.
“A man about a hog?” I asked.
He smiled at me, “You’ll see.”
We drove for about half an hour, just outside of the city. He played the radio the whole way so we didn’t chat but half way or so he reached over and held my hand on the console between us. When we drove up a dirt road toward a farmhouse and barn, I started to wonder if the ‘man about a hog’ thing wasn’t just a figure of speech.
He parked the jeep and motioned for me to follow him. It was a pretty place. Big barn, little stone farmhouse, a bit overgrown but wildflowers everywhere, and no visible neighbors. He opened a set of double barn doors on the big powder blue barn and inside there was a path down the center and horse stalls all the way down on either side. I heard no noise and smelled nothing that resembled animals but then when he opened a stall door and revealed a very shiny-looking candy apple red and chrome Harley Davidson motorcycle. Ah, a hog.
“Care to put something exciting between your legs?” he asked, suggestively, smiling at me.
I looked down at my clothes, “I’m wearing a skirt,” I said.
He shrugged, “You’ll be against my back. No one’ll see your cute little baby blue panties,” he winked.
“Obviously you saw them,” I wondered how he knew.
“But I’m allowed to. Let’s do this.”
He walked the bike out and then got into the jeep and backed into the barn, closed the doors and locked them.
Then he passed me a metallic candy apple red helmet and put a black one on his head and then we got on the road and he vroomed out of the driveway.
I held him tight, loving the feel of his muscular back and enjoying the scenery. It was a beautiful day. We drove about half an hour through the countryside, up and down winding country roads, and finally stopped at a little riverside park. There were picnickers, cyclists, fisherman, and hikers, and it looked really picturesque. He parked the bike and took my hand, helping me off, blocking the view of my undies as I was getting off the bike and ensuring my leg didn’t touch the hot exhaust pipe.
He walked me up to a snack bar beside the river and said, “What kind of ice cream?” His eyes were sparkling with mischief.
I blushed and looked up at a big whiteboard with a few dozen choices written in alternating orange and blue marker, “Blackjack Berry Thunder,” I said, with conviction.
He chuckled, “Two please,” he said to the older woman manning the stand and whispered into my ear, “That’s got to be the polar opposite of vanilla,” he kissed me behind the earlobe.
“Let’s just say my palate has gotten accustomed to more, err, flavor these days,” I flushed red but stared at him challengingly.
He looked tickled pink, his eyes sparkled with mischief, “You ain’t tasted nothin’ yet,” he told me while kissing my knuckles. Then the lady passed us our ice cream and Tommy paid and we strolled away, hand in hand.
“And maybe if I pick non-boring ice cream, maybe my life will stop being so darn exciting,” I added as we got to the riverbank and then Tommy sat on a large smooth rock big enough to be carved into a bench and with some comfy grooves that’d serve well to sit on. I sat beside him. The ice cream was remarkably good. I stared at the water, deep in thought.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.
I looked at him. He was smiling at me, licking his ice cream, looking gorgeous and carefree.
“How come you seem so calm and carefree?” I asked, then whispered, “We could’ve been killed this morning.”
He shrugged, “My life has been one long game of chess and almost never boring, Tia. When I give myself a chance to breathe, I breathe. That’s what today is about. Us taking a minute to breathe.”
I frowned. It sounded awful, “Your life always b
een like this? Your Dad never sheltered you?”
He looked thoughtful for a second, “My Pop’s company has evolved over the years. I guess I evolved with it. I’ve been working for my father since I was 14. I’ve seen a lot, even before I started working for him. I’ve learned a lot. My sisters are a little sheltered, they know about Pop’s business but they know much less, but us boys…” he shook his head, “Constant chess game. I just make one move at a time and try to be as strategic as I can be.”
Clearly it’d affected him. He had huge anger issues. He had to know this had something to do with it. I felt disdain for his father. What would Tommy be like if he’d had a normal upbringing?
“I’m sure your life experiences have taught you a lot, too,” he said.
I nodded.
“You haven’t had the easiest life,” he added.