“Hey, watch where you’re putting your hands.”
“Mom, you’re so embarrassing.” Alicia’s not impressed at my interruption, but that kid, who appears to go by the moniker, Owen, had been about to caress her breast—not on my watch.
So intent on viewing her, I don’t notice the biker’s moved closer, until he announces himself. “Name’s Grumbler.”
I glance at him quickly, then put my eyes back on my daughter again, but I do respond politely. “Mary,” I tell him. Then to explain my rudeness in not paying attention to him, I confide, “I hate this.”
“Your girl do this often?” When I frown, confused, he points toward his bike. “Model.”
“First time.” Then it all comes rushing out. “I tried to dissuade her, but Devon Starr there was most persuasive. Apparently, she was just the type he was looking for. He turned her head. Wasn’t much I could do about it, except come along to make sure it was all above board and that she was safe.”
His eyebrows draw down. “Starr approached me much the same way. Well, not that he wanted me, but my bike.”
“Hey, Grumbler.” Devon’s walking across to us. He’s making a beckoning gesture with his hand. “Lend Owen your vest thing for a moment, will you?”
The biker beside me freezes and repeats in a voice dripping with disdain, “My vest thing?”
“Yeah, this.” The photographer’s finger reaches out to touch the vest of the man standing beside me, then screams when Grumbler grabs hold of it and twists it away.
“No fuckin’ way. No one touches my cut,” Grumbler spits out.
Devon raises his hands in defeat. “Fuck, man. What is your problem? I only asked.”
“Well keep your fuckin’ questions to yourself, or I take my bike out of here and ride.”
My mouth quirks as I watch the scene play out, wondering if the biker will make good on his threat. It’s obvious that Devon doesn’t like not being in the driving seat. It’s also blatantly apparent that he wants the motorcycle as part of this shoot, as with a shake of his head, he walks back to what he can control, the human models if not the mechanical ones.
“Why didn’t you let him borrow your vest?” I ask after a moment for conversation as much as anything else. I’m starting to get bored as shot after shot is taken.
“It’s called a cut.” His voice is deep, gravelly, as he speaks from my side. Like me, he’s staring avidly ahead, keeping as careful an eye on his bike as I am on my daughter. “I earned the right to wear it, it’s mine. Big disrespect to even touch it.”
“Like your bike?”
“Yeah, babe. Never lay your hand on a man’s ride.” He spares a glance for me, waiting for some reason for that statement to sink in. Eventually I nod, duly noting that if I ever come across another biker, I’ll make sure to keep my hands away from his motorcycle.
“It’s something else, isn’t it? Your bike?” Even I, a non-rider, can appreciate it for what it is.
“You like motorcycles, darlin’?”
Risking a quick glance to the man at my side, I notice he’s also turned assessing eyes in my direction. “No,” I reply honestly. “I’ve never had anything to do with them. But the way the sunlight’s gleaming off yours, it looks special.”
“Why, thank you, ma’am.”
I’ve pleased him by saying the right thing. After that, a few minutes pass in silence. Surprisingly, they’re not uncomfortable.
It’s finally him who speaks first. “So this was your daughter’s idea? To get into modelling?”
My eyes narrow as Owen pulls Alicia into him, but this time my nonverbal warning is sufficient, as the pair are posed decently enough, even for a mother’s critical viewing. “Hopefully this is just a one-off.”
“I like that you’re chaperoning her,” he tells me, seriously. “Girl her age could get into trouble without someone watching out for her. Her dad have anything to say about this?”
“My husband died a few years back.”
“I’m sorry,” he commiserates automatically.
I shrug. So am I, but I’ve had to learn to deal with it. “Maybe it makes me overprotective, knowing I’m all that she has.”
“That you’re here with her shows you’re a good mother. How old is she?”
“Seventeen.”
I hear him chuckle. “I don’t envy you that. She’s strong-willed, isn’t she? Got attitude. Saw that as soon as you arrived.”
He’s got that right. “She’s pushing boundaries, thinks she can run before she can walk.” He seems to understand kids. “You got any children?”
“No, thank fuck.” Those three words are filled with heartfelt relief.
“Okay, that’s a wrap,” Devon calls out. “Got everything I need for today.” He turns and stares straight at the biker. “Fucking shame I couldn’t get any shots on the bike, you sure you won’t reconsider?”
Grumbler’s expression is all the answer he gets and needs. Devon sighs and shakes his head.
“What happens now?” I ask, looking out for my daughter’s interests.
“The photos will go on my website. If one is purchased, I’ll be in touch.”
Alicia comes bounding over, her eyes sparkling. “Will it be soon?”
Devon’s shoulders rise and fall. “Could be, I took some nice shots. But I have to prepare you, it may be never. It depends if someone’s writing a book that’s got the likes of the two of you as characters. Authors like to match the models to the people in their books.”
Owen taps my daughter on the shoulder. She moves around me to our car, reaches in and takes her phone out of the glove compartment where she’d left it. She hands it over to Owen, who taps something into it.
He’s giving her his number.
As I’m trying to process what I think of them exchanging contact details, Grumbler nods toward Devon. “You’ve got my cell. I’ll wait for your call.”
“Might not sell any at all,” Devon warns again.
Ignoring him, Grumbler’s eyes narrow as they settle on the two youngsters, then he turns to me. “Nice to meet you, Mary.” He glances back at Alicia once
