Katori

I'd just settled into my favorite corner of the couch, remote in one hand and a beer in the other. Nasaan was up at the resort, shoveling sidewalks and the front gates and running a small CAT around the parking lot when they let him. Kaya was working her usual night shift. I had the house to myself and I was going to enjoy it.

I pressed the Hulu button on the remote and was flipping through a few screens when my cell phone rang. I glanced over at it and peered at the display just in case it was Nasaan or Kaya.

It wasn't. I dropped the remote and grabbed the phone, sliding my finger across the face of the device.

"Eloise! I'm surprised to hear from you this late. You haven't picked up my son, have you?"

The Sheriff's hearty laugh filled my ears. She was a tall woman, over six feet before she put her boots on, which added at least an inch. She was broad across the chest and over the shoulders with a short, neck length dark bob that was usually tucked under a uniform cap. Eloise Harding had been our Sheriff for so many years, I wasn't sure what the town would do when it came time to elect someone else. I mean... she had to die sometime, right?

"Not since I had to tell him to slow down with that machine. He was doing wheelies with the CAT in the resort parking lot."

I rolled my eyes. That sounded like him. "Sorry, El. I'll yell at him when he gets home."

"No need. Yelled at him for ya. I'm calling because we had a bike accident, about five miles outside of town. Took the rider to Presby ER. He'll be alright, I guess. I've got the bike on a wrecker and judging by his hair and California plates, I'm gonna call him a preppy sumbitch who's probably going to want his bike fixed ASAFP."

"A..S.... what does the F stand for?"

"What it always stands for. Anyways, I've gotta dump this heap. I don't want to impound it if he's just going to take it to you. Save me the paperwork."

"Oh, El. I'm in my pajamas." I glanced down at the thick flannel set that I'd just pulled from the dryer. "Can't you just park the wrecker and bring it over in the morning?"

"It's a rough night out there. Amos says there are lots of accidents. I need to free up the wrecker in case we have to go back out."

My eyes slid closed and my evening catching up on Hulu slipped away behind them.

"It'll just take a minute, Tori. I could even unload it right outside-"

"No...no. I don't want any hooligans messing with it, stealing parts off of it. Just what I need, to get sued by a preppy sumbitch." I chuckled, pulling myself up and out of the couch.  "I'll meet you there in a few minutes. You owe me, though. This beer's gonna be warm by the time I get back to it."

I slipped a pair of boots over my Hello Kitty socks and a wool coat over my pink pajamas with cats all over them. Then I grabbed my keys off of the hook where Kaya had hung them and headed out.

Snow was pounding down like someone was pouring a bucket of the stuff over the town. I hopped into my truck and started her up, thankful for four wheel drive. Since the shop was only a mile away, it wasn't long before I pulled into my space alongside Nez Motors. The Sheriff and the wrecker driver were leaning against her cruiser as if it wasn't snowing like hell outside.

Keys jingled on the keyring as I sifted through them, pulling the two that worked the locks that kept the wide bay doors closed. I unlocked one, then the other and the Sheriff helped me pull them open.

Inside was... well someone might describe it as a motorcycle graveyard. Nasaan and I knew what each piece was, though, since we were basically cannibalizing parts from other bikes to upgrade the old Harley that was parked in a corner and covered with a tarp.

"Just uh... put it there, I guess." I pointed toward an empty spot, recently vacated by a bike that had been picked down to the chrome and hauled to the dump. "So is this guy supposed to come pick up the bike, or.... what?" I asked Eloise.

"Hell if I know. He's still at Presby. Cracked rib, some abrasions, sprained ankle. Probably not thinking too hard about his bike. I'll let him know where he can find it though. It doesn't actually look too bad, in the light. Maybe it's fixable?"

I eyed the felled machine, recognizing the make and model right away. "It's old... really old."

"Yeah he said it was new... but vintage."

"A Triumph Bonneville. Near the end of the original line." I whistled, marveling at the coloring and construction. It had been nicked and bent, but the frame was still solid. "I'll see what I can do, if he wants it fixed here. Though, if he's a rider, he'll probably want it shipped to whatever shop services his bikes."

"Looks more like an amateur to me. He didn't have a bit of protection on but a thin leather jacket.  No boots, no leathers, shitty city riding helmet." She shook her head, hands propped on boxy hips. "Should have left him in the ditch."

I chuckled, motioning to her to help me close the doors. "Eloise! It's Thursday, your day to be nice."

"Then people ought not to be a pain in my ass," she grumbled, pulling her door shut. I locked them both and tossed the keys into my other hand.

"I'm off. Maybe my beer hasn't warmed up yet."

"Night, hon. Drive slowly. It's bad out there."

"I will," I said, tossing the promise over my shoulder as I stomped through snow back to the truck. I followed the cruiser and the wrecker down the road until they turned right, into to town. I turned left, down a long lonely highway, to our little hand built ranch house.

I settled back into the couch and grabbed my beer. It wasn't even warm yet.

...

JC

"Oooowwwwwww! Shit! Take it easy!"

I was in a hospital gown. A backless hospital gown, ass out and on full display since I had to lay on my left side while the nurse attended to my torn skin. At least that's what she said she was doing. Felt more like torture.

"Stay still, sir!"

"It hurts! I can't stay still!"

"If I don't get this gravel out of your wounds, it'll hurt worse. Now stay still."

"Can I at least get some morphine or something?" I was terrified of needles, but I could overcome my fears if she could just knock me out.

"We don't give morphine for this."

"I need it if you're going to keep doing that."

The nurse that was taking care of me- who was perfectly sweet, I might add, until she said she needed to clean my wounds- paused to glare at me, her eyes blazing.

"Maybe the pain will sear into your memory and you will think about this moment before you get on a bike again." She went back to work, but I detected a gentler touch as she scrubbed at the raw, red streaks down the right side of my body. "I tell my nephew the same thing. He's always zipping down the street on his motorbike, half the time he's not wearing a helmet. All summer he only wore shorts and a t-shirt. How's that supposed to protect him?"

She clicked her tongue. "You should have been wearing leather riding gear."

"I was wearing leather," I grunted.

"Leather made for riding, not that Wilson's $300 number. It's thicker. Comes down further on your torso." She sucked her teeth, all the while working her way down the side of my body. "Amateur."

"Do you know where they might have taken my bike?"

She mused, pausing for a moment. "If I know Sheriff, she took it straight to Nez Motors. And you're in luck; the mechanic there is very talented. Like an artist."

"I don't care if he's Van Gogh. I just want to see if it can be fixed."

"She."

I turned my head toward the nurse and caught a glimpse of her tag. It said Kaya. "She what?"

"She. The bike mechanic. She's a she."

She. A female motorcycle mechanic. "She's not gonna try to fix it with stickers and glitter, is she?"

Nurse Kaya huffed and pressed a gauze pad against my skin. "Ow! You did that on purpose."

"She is my sister. And she's probably your only hope if you plan to ride that thing out of this town. Which, I hope, happens soon."

"Kaya, what are you doing to that poor man?"

The Sheriff walked in, stopping at the edge of the bed and towering over me. She was what old Hollywood would call handsome, a woman who resembled Bea Arthur if she lifted weights. And wore a dark blue uniform.

I panicked, reaching for the gown to cover up. It was one thing for the hospital staff to see me. Quite another to bare ass the Sheriff of a strange town.

"Don't bother, son. I've seen it all. Came to check on you. Sounds like Kaya is giving you the best care we offer here at Presby."

"Yeah, I want her arrested," I grumbled, angling my head to the nurse behind me, who giggled as she dressed my wounds with cool gauze pads. "For assault."

"I'll look into it. I wanted you to know that I dropped your bike over at Nez Motors. She's our resident fix it, but she's a whiz with motorcycles especially."

The Sheriff handed me a plain white card with raised black lettering that read NEZ MOTORS with the address and phone number to the shop underneath. I'll admit to being a sexist asshole; I half expected it to be pink.

"A whiz, huh? What if I just want to ship the bike home?"

"Up to you," she answered with a shrug. "But if I were you, I'd let her see what she can do. Give her a couple of days and you might can ride it home."

Home. Home seemed so far away right now. I was supposed to be rolling into Taos by morning at least, and I wasn't anywhere near a luxury ski resort.

"I'll give her a call. As soon as I find my phone. And uh... my clothes?"

"They cut your jeans and shirt off of you when you came into the ER. You can't wear them out."

"I had a... a bag. On the bike..."

"Probably still strapped to the bike. Sorry, I wasn't really thinking. But Kaya here can probably help you out."

"Help him out?" She repeated, her voice pitching high. "With what?"

"Well, he's gotta get over to Tori's shop anyway. Why don't you take him with you?"

"Take him with me where?"

"Home."

"My house? Where I live?"

Sheriff shrugged. I watched the volley of conversation happen over my head like I wasn't even in the room. "Nasaan will be good company and like I said, he needs to get to the shop anyway. He can ride over with Tori in the morning. Besides, you know the closest hotel is a shithole and Tori's cooking is a far sight better than anything else he can get at this time of night."

"I don't see why he's my problem, Eloise. You brought him here-"

"I didn't bring him here. He was brought by ambulance-"

"Okay, okay. Hang on. Can I get a word in here?" I rolled over, pulling the gown so it covered me, mostly. "I take it I can leave tonight? I don't have to stay?"

The nurse shook her head, her lips pressed together. "Doc says you're banged up but alive. No need to keep you unless you want to stay."

"I do not want to stay." I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, wincing in pain. "I uh... appreciate the arrangement you're trying to set up. But...I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable- "

I caught the nurse's eye for a brief moment. She looked away, folding her arms across her chest. "I can stay at the shithole. I hope I only need a night or two and I'm sure I've stayed at worse."

Memories of the tiniest rat holes in Germany sprang to mind.

The Sheriff glanced at the Kaya, her frown drawing her entire face down from her eyebrows to her chin. Kaya sighed, throwing her hands up.

"When my dad told you to watch over us, he didn't mean to pressure us into stuff we don't want to do. Someday that look isn't going to work on me, Eloise."

"Someday is not today. Why don't you find this young man some scrubs so he can restore his dignity? Then take him home, feed him, put him to bed."

"I'm not a stray dog, you know."

"Tell that to Sheriff Harding," said Kaya, nodding her head to the burly woman leaving the exam room. "So I guess you're my problem, now. I'll bring you some scrubs and your socks and shoes. Those were fine. You'll need to hang out here for a bit and then you can ride home with me."

"You didn't happen to find my phone, did you?"

"Not with the property Amos brought in." She shrugged and didn't seem concerned at all.  "Might still be in that ditch."

I wanted to laugh. Really loud and really hard. I was stuck in some town in New Mexico with a wrecked bike, a nurse that was going to take me home and no phone. I didn't even know Eric's number by heart.

It was like that movie Misery. I was prepared to bash someone upside the head with a typewriter if I needed to.