Waltz of Her Life

She dug around for the keys, ran back outside, yanked Myrtle's driver door open, and started the engine. Her father swaggered up to the window and said "Where do you think you're going?"

Molly had also run out onto the porch by then, grinning widely at her as she backed her car down the driveway. She'd seen the motorcycles turn left out of the driveway. Once they'd gotten out of her subdivision they were probably headed toward Villard Avenue and the edge of town, near the interstate exchange. If she hurried, and the guys were not driving too fast, she might catch them at one of the lights on Villard.

It was best not to get a speeding ticket, though. She switched lanes and shifted her head back and forth trying to see past the other cars. Twice she passed under a yellow light just as it was about to turn red. Quickly she reached the Allandale shopping center at the corner of Villard and McAndrew. When that light changed and she drove ahead to the next intersection, she leaped with relief at what she saw ahead. Three guys on motorcycles sat at the light, the last intersection before the entrance ramp.

Linda rolled down her driver window so furiously her arm hurt. "Hey!" she called out to them. "Pull over somewhere." Seth, who rode in the middle, wore mirror sunglasses and a leather jacket. His hair had been tousled by hundreds of miles of highway riding. Suddenly she understood why her father had turned them away. It still wasn't right, however.

They all met in the parking lot of a convenience store with gasoline pumps. Seth switched off the engine of his motorcycle and steadied it while Linda parked and opened her door, running up to him. He dismounted his motorcycle and reached down to give her a quick, strong hug that lifted her off of her feet for a moment.

When they parted, Seth introduced his friends Mike and Billy. With their leather jackets, long hair and scruffy beards, the three of them looked like a trio of marauders.

"So what happened?" Linda asked.

Seth motioned with his thumb the direction of her house. "Your dad thinks we're big bad motorcycle gang toughs," he said.

Linda looked at the gleaming chrome and flashing paint on the motorcycles. "Motorcycle gangsters don't ride motorcycles as nice as yours, do they?"

Seth nodded, his face suddenly turning serious. He'd taken off his mirror sunglasses before their embrace. "So what's the deal with him, anyway? He was talking to me like I was gutter trash."