The family road -- Chapter 1
Author's note:
I'm trying something a little different here, going for more of a romantic and I suppose, realistic approach. I like to use Literotica for fun and to practice my writing, so any comments on whether I managed to make the story seem realistic/romantic, or areas where I could improve are deeply appreciated. I love criticism, the harsher the better. My mother used to call me "Stupid fuck" so often that until I was seven I thought it was my name, and now my greatest sexual fantasy is to have a group of people read a list of all my failures in life like I'm being tried at the Hague, before using my balls like a Dance Dance Revolution mat.
Although I know where I want to go with this series, I will continue with the Conquering desire series first after this chapter, I just had some inspiration and wanted to write it out, however both of the stories take place in the same town, so who knows? Maybe the stories will intertwine at some point.
Chapter 1 -- Speed bump
"Jesus Christ kid! Those people were drug fiends, rapists and murderers! What the hell were you doing?"
Ryan had heard it all before, so many well-meaning people that didn't seem to care enough to actually do anything. He'd been on the run from such people for the last six months, people who would shake your hand with their left and simultaneously hold out their right expectantly for a wad of cash.
Give me the people that hold both their hands out, firmly flipping me off from the front, at least I know where I stand with them.
The hectic spiral had finally ended, caught when he least expected, it as Roughie had told him it would happen. The gang had stopped at a place a little south of Canada's border, they'd enjoyed some time screwing around with the hicks in the town, fighting a little here and there, drinking every day like crazy. Ryan had even had his first cigar, the smoke blew cooler than the lot lizard Roughie and the guys had visit Ryan in his room for his 18th birthday. Ryan recalled her black nipples shaking before his eyes, the way she squealed and giggled every time they were bit, how she rode like a piston and didn't mind going for a second round when Ryan still had time on his clock.
The open road still held fond memories, it called as the ocean does to a sailor, in the way that all other space between it is merely the distance keeping you from home.
"Kid are you listening? These people were bad news! What would your dad think of you riding around with a bunch of bikers?"
The chair shot back, scarping violently against the tiles in a grinding bloody screech, "Fuck you! What the hell are you bringing that up for?"
"Easy kid! I'm just trying to make you see sense!"
"I'm sat here in front of you aren't I? What the hell is this anyway? An interrogation or some shitty pep talk?" Ryan cut an intimidating figure, stood at his full height and bound in a tight studded leather jacket. At 6ft and an inch, Ryan towered over most people he met with ease, his bulky wide build gave him the impression of an unroused grizzly when calm and a terrible beast-like wrath when angry.
His hair had grown into a wild untamed mop of silky blonde hair that made him look more like a surfer than a biker, complemented by shining young steely blue eyes that looked like they belonged on a San Fransico beach rather than in a jail cell. Ryan would have fitted a pair of slacks and a thick scholarly jumper better than dirty ripped jeans and a biker jacket, if the man's racing angry mind could be convinced of such an impossibility.
"Calm down, I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry, all right? We can't understand why you'd do something like this." Ryan remembered the casket lowering, it felt like half of the town had come out to see it, certainly half of the soldiers. The untimely and unpatriotic death of Colonel M. Gurtz had ended Ryan's world, all of the petty squabbles and small matters crashed through his reality with a sudden realisation of how little it all mattered.
Ryan could admit, leaving with a biker gang the next morning had been a wild decision, but what was left for him at home? Emptiness? Broken memories? Sure a roof and an inheritance, both more trouble than they were worth as far as Ryan was concerned.
A heart attack, he would have hated going like that.
"You know your house is still there right?"
"I don't want to go back there."
"Good, because there's another problem with that." The moustachioed plain clothes officer, flipped open a file with a huff, "You've been legally adopted."
"How the hell- I'm eighteen for christ's sake, how the hell has that happened?"
"When you left you were seventeen, that's when these papers were signed. People must have thought you were being real reclusive or something, because this was done after you left. Idiots. Trust social services to screw something up."
"Well, who the hell adopted me?"
"Did your father ever talk about your mother?"
Ryan thought hard for a moment, snippets of conversations half-slurred from the bottom of a vodka bottle sounded out in his ears, "A little. Nothing much. She- wait, you're kidding right?"
"Victoria Campbell, signed here on the dotted line two days after you went missing. Willing to house and feed you as a legal guardian until such time as you turn eighteen. We contacted her after finding you, even after all you've been through she's still willing to take you in."
"Another set of open arms waiting for a wallet." Ryan folded his arms and sat back, his mind searching the map of the town roads as he spoke.
The cop chuckled, "A little cynical aren't we? And dead wrong, Ms Campbell has way more than you or your father ever did. A marine's salary can't beat a socialites."
Ryan sat stunned for a moment, his father having never named nor hinted at anything around his mother's life, only ever talking about distant memories of beach picnics and emerald eyes that shone brighter than any star. One time his father related that those very same eyes terrified him far more than any battlefield and that the most nerve-wracking day of his life had been asking her to dinner.
The only time he ever seemed human was talking about her. Kindness, that's what he always said about her. Guess it must be true to take me in.
"So what? I'm supposed to drop everything here and go? The state can't force me, I'm eighteen now!"
"The state can't force you, but that's not what this is about. This is about a choice, as all things are. You can choose to go and live with her, pack up all that you own in this world on a credit card and that duffle bag of yours and see what life could be like with her. You don't like it? Hop back on that machine and ride till your tank goes dry. You could choose to head back out on the road, but with those kinds of people you'll be in a jail cell again before too long. The important thing is, these are all choices you have to make and I'm not going to push you to any one of them."
The cop rose, clutching caringly at his and Ryan's coffee cup, "Want some more?" Ryan nodded and cautiously stared at the small brown file as the man left. Tentatively he picked it up and thumbed through it.
A chance at a regular life again? And if I don't like it, hop back on that machine and ride till my tank goes dry.
Pages flipped by as Ryan studied them intensely, a well off family looking to give him time to finish his education and reconnect.
And if I don't like it, hop back on that machine and ride till my tank goes dry.
Ryan signed the papers the next morning, collected his belongings and climbed back into the saddle. The rest of the pack was probably halfway into Canada now, if he ever saw them again, it wouldn't be for a while. Ryan had his head shaved to a buzzcut, kicked his machine to life and set off towards new roads.
***
Sandwiches. What was her mother's incessant need to make sandwiches whenever someone came over? Emma was adding the finishing touches to her make-up, dashing the snowy white skin with a soft pink lipstick and touches of blush, aiming to complement the raven black hair that stretched far past her shoulders in a stark contrast of colours like her mother had shown her.
