Dancing with the Devil

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

“So? Did you get it?’ Frankie asked as she glided up and dismounted at the bike rack. Mac was bent over double, and Frankie watched as she tried to mate the key on the lanyard around her neck with the lock securing her wheels. “You know, that works better if you take it off first.”

Mac said, “Get what?”

Frankie made a noise that fused frustration and excitement, and threw up her hands. “The envelope! Did you get the envelope I left for you?”

Dante rode up and popped her front wheel off to lock it up with her frame. “Dudette, Charlie’s gonna see you bending over like that and consider it an invitation.”

Mac straightened, her face flushed. She started to say, “If he ever—” but stopped as Charlie rolled up right then, dressed in his stupid baggies and a shammy from some mountain bike club.

“Hello, Ladies, and I mean that in the most respectful way, Dante.” Charlie locked his bike next to theirs.

“Kiss, kiss, lover!” Dante blew him a couple of air kisses, which Charlie dutifully ignored.

 Charlie continued, “You want to do another ride up to Hudson, Frankie?”

“Depends if you’re ready for more humiliation, Chaz,” she answered. She looked over her shoulder at Mac and tilted her head toward Charlie. “We were going to do a dawn ride yesterday but he was a no-show. Apparently he’s not yet able to clear the trail logs. Or maybe your shoelace got wrapped around your crank and you fell?”

“I got no problem with my crank,” Charlie said, leering. As he reached to pop off his front wheel, his sleeves pulled back, revealing fresh bruises on his arms.

“You get some decent road rash to go along with those?” Dante asked. “At least you got the brain bucket goin’ on,” he said, knocking on his helmet. “You wouldn’t want an even more messed up noggin.”

Charlie jerked his head away and scowled at him, but Dante was unfeigned.

He said, “I’ve got a fresh tube of Brave Soldier if you promise not to use it all.” He held up the ointment and waggled it in the air.

Frankie said, “I wish that stuff could’ve repaired the inside of my knee like it did the outside.”

Charlie waved them off and struck a pose like a veteran’s statue. Quoting the Brave Soldier web site, he said, “My wounds are the price paid for adventure or for victory!”

“Well, I hope you’re having some of the adventure, cause it looks like those baby heads claimed victory.”

“Baby heads?” Mac asked.

Frankie patted her back and smiled. “See? There are purists left in the world. You are a true roadie, Mac.”

“Baby heads,” Charlie said. “The rocks in the trail the size of, you know, a baby’s head. And I am clearing them. Usually.”

Dante made a face. “I don’t know why you bother with the trails if it’s so brutal.”

Charlie slung his backpack over his shoulder and winced. “It may be rough, but I only get cardio on the road. The trail’s great for wind sprints and skills.”

“You better keep working on those skills, then, dude,” Frankie said, pointing to Charlie’s latest injuries. “And you better not let Otis see those. It’s obvious you didn’t get them riding pavement and then he’ll know the trails are keeping you from your road miles. The ones he assigned to get you ready for our road trip.”