Posts Tagged ‘Shelby Nichols Adventures’

Not long ago, I tried to drive Ramos’s Harley. It was in a parking lot, but I had a crazy person behind me at the time, and I almost crashed into the back of a building. Luckily I was able to turn the bike, but I ended up underneath it because it was too heavy for me to hold up. The only good thing about it was that I just got a few bruises on my ankle. The bike didn’t fair so well, and Ramos had to take it into the shop and get it fixed.

After that, he suggested I learn how to drive a motorcycle in case that ever happened again, and he would teach me. How could I pass that up?

To be honest, I like riding behind Ramos better than almost anything, so driving a motorcycle myself kind of defeats that purpose. Still, I told him that was a good idea, even though I doubted it would ever happen.

Then just this morning after we’d finished up a meeting at Thrasher Development, Ramos and I left the office at the same time. In the parking garage, I glanced toward Ramos’s normal parking place and found a different bike parked there.

“Where’s the Harley?” I asked.

“At home,” he answered. “I just got this one restored and wanted to ride it today.” He wandered over to it, and ran his hand over the polished chrome with a soft caress. “This bike is a vintage classic. It’s a 1959 Bonneville Triumph. I found it when I was in Mexico, and managed to bring it home.”

“Wow. That’s great. It looks like an awesome bike,” I said, even though I had no idea what a vintage classic meant, except that it was probably worth a lot of money.

“Hey, this would be the perfect bike for you to learn on. It’s not as big as the Harley, so you’d probably be able to handle it. Want to try it out?”

“You mean…all by myself?”

“Sure. Now that school’s out, we could go to an empty school parking lot, and you could try her out.”

“Uh…are you sure? I mean, it’s a vintage classic, right?”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”¬†Just the thought of trying to drive that bike sent shards of ice down my spine, but how could I say no to Ramos?

“Good.” He popped the trunk to his car and produced both our helmets and handed the smaller one to me.

As I strapped it on, I wished I would have been more prepared and worn different clothes. Since it was summer, I’d worn a pink tank top under a white linen shirt and my denim capri pants with sparkles on the back pockets. On my feet, I’d slipped on my denim sandals that totally matched. At least they were flat, and the top of my foot was covered, so that would help with the shifting part.

I climbed on behind Ramos, and slipped my arms around him, willing to try anything for a ride with him, and hoped for the best.

This bike was smaller, but I fit behind Ramos just fine. He took us to the nearest high school parking lot and pulled inside. We both got off, and he began to explain how to shift the gears to me, most of which I already knew from riding with him.

He took me through the brake lever and the shift lever, along with how to pull the handle to give it some gas. By the time he was done, I had a pretty good idea how to drive it, but that didn’t stop my stomach from fluttering with trepidation.

“Ready to try it out?” he asked.

“Uh…I guess.”

He took in my widened eyes and pale face, and his lips tilted up in a smile. “Want me to ride behind you until you get the hang of it?”

I let out a relieved breath. “You can do that?” At his nod, I continued. “I would feel lots better if you did.”

“Okay, get on.”

I straddled the bike and scooted forward so there was plenty of room for Ramos behind me. He helped me get it started, and told me how to shift into first, and let out the clutch while giving it some gas.

I did everything like he said, and we inched forward before it sputtered out and died. He told me I needed to give it a little more gas and try again. This time, I managed to do it right, and we started off across the parking lot at a slow pace.

He continued to tell me when to shift, and I got all the way up to third gear before we began to run out of space and had to turn around. I turned slowly, grateful that Ramos could keep the bike from tipping over, and then began to head back.

After a couple of times, I was getting the hang of it, and Ramos settled back into the seat, leaving me to use the handle bars by myself. We turned around to head back to the other side of the parking lot, and all that open space beckoned me, so I gave it a little extra gas and went a little faster than before.

Ramos grabbed me around the waist, and I laughed as we picked up speed. I even managed to get all the way to fourth gear. Since we were nearing the end of the parking lot, I let go of the gas to pull on the brake lever, causing us to slow more abruptly than I wanted.

The momentum caused Ramos to plow into my back, pushing me forward. That’s when I panicked and pulled on the brake, causing us both to fly forward even more. Ramos expertly reached around me, and took control of the bike. With relief, I pulled my fingers away and leaned back against him until we came to a complete stop.

He put his feet on the ground so the bike didn’t tip over, and swung his leg off the bike, leaving me on it alone. “What did you think?” he asked.

“It was great…until the end. I guess I lost it a little.”

He smiled. “You did great. Want to try it on your own?”

My eyes widened. “Uh…nope…not really. But I think I got the basics, so this was a good start. Besides, I don’t want to risk wrecking this classic bike, you know?”

He chuckled, knowing I was scared out of my mind, but he also thought it had been worth it to have his arms around me for a change. “Yeah. I appreciate that. Ready to head back?”

Now that it was over, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to end, but changing places with Ramos made it a lot easier. “Yes.”

Soon, I was back where I felt most comfortable. Still, there was a moment with Ramos’s arms around me that I’d felt a real thrill. It was great fun, and I wouldn’t mind feeling that again sometime. But, for now, riding behind him was even better.

So that was my first bike driving lesson. I thought it went pretty well, and if I ever get the chance again, I’ll take it…as long as Ramos is sitting behind me.

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I work for a mob-boss. Doesn’t that sound nuts? There are some days I can’t believe it either. But, I have to say that he’s not your typical mob-boss, mostly because he runs several legitimate businesses, and he’s never been arrested…not even once.

Before you start thinking that I’m rationalizing about working for such a person, let me just clarify that I do it under duress. He found out my secret that I can read minds, and threatened harm to my family if I didn’t cooperate.

Sure, it may seem like I enjoy it, and sometimes I really do, but since I’ve nearly died a few times because of it, I know I should work harder at getting out from under him.

Still, if I’m honest, I do like being an indispensable part of his organization. That feeling of importance is pretty amazing. He’s also made sure I have someone to watch my back when I get in trouble, and I’ve grown quite fond of that person…and his motorcycle. Uncle Joey’s also deposited copious amounts of money into my checking account, and given me bonuses. I’ve even gone on his private jet to some great cities a few times.

So…what I’m trying to tell you is that I guess I’m in too deep to get out now. That should bother me a whole lot, but what can I say? I passed that point a while ago. Which brings me to my next conundrum. I also help the police. My partner, Detective Harris, aka Dimples, knows that I sometimes help Uncle Joey, he just doesn’t know how much.

So far, he hasn’t made a big deal out of it, but I just found out that he’s looking into it. What am I supposed to say when he tells me that he has a plan to take Uncle Joey down, and he wants my help to do it, especially when I know he’s doing it for my sake?

To top it all off, my husband also works for Uncle Joey as his lawyer. Could this get any worse? Actually, yes, because now my kids think Uncle Joey is my uncle and therefore related to them. In fact, our whole family had a chance encounter with his. I had to introduce my kids to his wife and son. Since then, he’s claimed us as part of The Family.

My thirteen-year-old daughter, Savannah, has a huge crush on Uncle Joey’s eighteen-year-old son. She thinks he’s not blood-related because of a story I made up about how Uncle Joey was first married to my aunt but they got a divorce and his son is from a different relationship. Complicated, right?

It’s no wonder that when taking a good look at my life, and all the complications involved in it, that I start to get a little stressed out. Which brings me to my next conundrum. You see, I’m meeting with Dimples this afternoon, and Uncle Joey just asked me to spy on the police department about a special case that could have repercussions for him.

He’s never really asked me to do that before, although it’s been implied, and it’s stressing me out. Can a good person work for people on both sides of the law? How long can I sit on the fence between the good guys and the bad guys without getting caught, hurt, or killed?

Honestly, I don’t want to find out, because I know one thing for sure…I could never betray Uncle Joey. But just as important, I don’t want to end up in jail either. So I guess for now, I’ll just have to keep balancing on that tightrope, and hope I don’t fall off.

It’s what you’d do, right?

Wish me luck – I’m going to need it!

 

 

All of you know how much I love going on motorcycle rides. But after yesterday, I’ve decided that it’s mostly because of the person taking me on the ride.

Yesterday, I got a call from my friend, Holly. She told me that her husband got her a scooter for her birthday. I think it’s a Vespa. Anyway… I hurried over to see it and maybe take a ride. It was so cute … kind of a lime green color. And the thing I liked most, was that it didn’t have any gears you had to shift, and it was small enough for me to handle.

As you know, on a motorcycle, you have to do that whole gear shift thing on the handlebar and with your foot, which can be a little intimidating… at least for me. Plus, the motorcycle that I usually ride is pretty big. If I tried to take that out by myself, I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to hold it upright. Still, I’m sure they have smaller motorcycles that I could try, right? Plus it might be a good thing to learn how to ride one just in case… you know… something happened.

With that in mind, I totally jumped at the chance to try out Holly’s Vespa, just to get a feel for it in a non-threatening way. If I liked it… who knew? Maybe I’d want to get one, or try out a smaller-size motorcycle?

She drove it around first and showed me how it worked, driving it up and down the street a few times. Then it was my turn. The handlebars have a brake lever and the one on the right side is the one you pull toward you to make it go.

It seemed simple enough, and it kind of reminded me of the wave-runner I took out at the lake a few years ago. I had my two kids on it behind me, and we started out pretty slow. Then the need for speed hit me, and I twisted the handle. We took off and it was great fun, until the kids lost their grip and flew off behind me. Luckily they both had on life jackets, but I didn’t realize they were slowly losing their grip because of the speed, or I would have slowed down…

Anyway, I tested the brakes and then twisted the handle and started off. I was going pretty slow, but I veered to the left where there’s a two-foot drop-off from Holly’s driveway to the neighbor’s driveway. I was holding onto the handlebar so tight, that I forgot that I needed to let go in order to stop.

I managed to turn the wheel in time to avoid going off the edge, but it was close, and I heard some yelling going on behind me. By then, I had come to the end of the driveway. Luckily, I shifted my hand on the handle. With a deep breath of relief, I slowed in time to look both ways before pulling out and turning up the street.

I made it to the top of the street and decided to go around the block, since I wasn’t sure I could turn it around. By the time I’d made it back around the street, I was starting to get the hang of it. I’d even managed not to tip over or anything. But my legs were a little shaky from all the excitement.

With relief, I turned into the driveway and pulled to a stop in front of everyone almost like a pro. I even remembered to put my feet on the ground so the scooter wouldn’t tip over.

Holly smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She reached for the handlebar, thinking how grateful she was that I’d make it back alive, and that I’d almost killed her brand-new scooter. She also wasn’t sure she’d ever let me ride it again.

It kind of hurt my feelings. Sure I’d sort of messed up at the beginning, but I’d made it all the way around the block just fine. Still, I knew it would take a lot more practice for me to feel totally comfortable riding around on it.

That’s when I realized that maybe having a motorcycle of my own wouldn’t be such a good idea after all. I really liked riding on the back much better than driving it myself anyway. Especially when I could wrap my arms around the one person who liked to take me on those rides… yeah… I think it’s safer for everyone if I stick to that plan from now on.

 

 

As most of you know, I’m a paid consultant for the police. I help out when they have a difficult case and not much to go on. They don’t know the truth that I can read minds, and I try to keep it that way by telling them I have psychic abilities – like premonitions and such.

This works great when they are questioning suspects, mostly because I can pick it up pretty quick if the suspect is guilty. After that, it’s usually easy for me to ask the suspect leading questions that either trick them into admitting their guilt, or trick them into giving away important information that only they would know. This usually freaks them out so bad that they confess to the whole thing. In the process, it makes me look pretty awesome.

Only today didn’t go quite so well.

I was at the precinct waiting for Dimples to arrive, when the chief got the call about a double homicide. Dimples is the only detective who knows the truth about me, and we’ve become partners. But since he wasn’t there yet, the chief asked me to go with Detective Bates.

Normally, Bates would have refused to take me with him, since he doesn’t like me much. But things have changed in the last couple of months, and he’s more accepting of my psychic abilities. He’s now a believer, since he’s seen first hand how good I am at finding the guilty party.

But right then, I wished he still hated me, because I wasn’t sure how I could help at a crime scene. I couldn’t read dead people’s minds, and the killer was probably long gone. But what could I do? As I stood there with indecision, Bates smiled encouragingly, thinking I hesitated because he hadn’t been very nice to me, but he was willing to let bygones be bygones.

Great! How could I tell him to go without me after that? “Uh… I’m not too good with blood. Maybe I’d better stay here?”

At this point the chief noticed my hesitation and frowned at me, thinking that with my ability, I might pick up something his detectives would miss and they’d get a jump start on the killer. So why was I hesitating? Isn’t this what they paid me for?

“But if you really need me,” I continued. “I’ll go.”

“Good,” the chief said. “Detective Harris has been held up on another case, but I’ll send him to the house as soon as he’s available.”

I let out a relieved breath since Detective Harris is my partner, Dimples. I hoped he didn’t take took long since he could run interference for me if things got tricky. Plus, I didn’t like going out on a case without him. I knew Dimples had my back if something went wrong, and I couldn’t say that about Bates.

Before I knew it, we arrived at the house with the dead bodies, and a wave of dread washed over me. Even worse, there were a lot of police officers there, but Dimples wasn’t one of them.

Bates noticed my white face and thought I was a big wimp. He shook his head thinking it was a mistake to bring me. Sure, I’d been right a few times, but I didn’t seem to have the mojo to be a real detective.

The grudging respect he’d held for me slipped a few notches. So I offered him a quick nod, and jumped out of the car. I even led the way to the door, but a police officer stopped me from entering, and Bates had to tell her it was okay to let me in. As obnoxious as that was, it restored Bates’ good mood, so I couldn’t be too upset.

With misgiving, I took a deep breath and followed him in. The first thing I noticed were the rusty red blood spatters all over the living room wall. Then came the coppery smell of death and the sight of two women’s bodies sprawled out on the floor. I stopped in my tracks, then managed to cover my nose and avert my gaze until I found an out-of-the-way spot near the doorway to the kitchen.

I swallowed a few times to keep from throwing up. I hadn’t expected the dead people to be women. Somehow, that made this whole thing worse. I glanced into the kitchen and noticed food on the table along with three place settings. So where was the other person? Was that person still there? Was that person the killer?

My neck tingled and a sudden chill ran down my spine, as if someone’s icy breath had brushed against my skin. I hunched my shoulders and glanced behind me, catching sight of blond hair and wide eyes before it registered that my reflection looked back at me from a tall mirror at the end of the hall.

Letting out a breath of relief, my shoulders slumped and I closed my eyes. Then I heard a sound, like a woman singing. What the freak? It came from the end of the hall where two doors stood open.

I wasn’t about to go that way, but an icy tingle crept against my neck and across my shoulders, pushing me in that direction. The singing got a little louder and I followed the sound to the room on the right.

I held my breath and peeked inside, letting it out to find the room empty. As I took a step inside the singing stopped, and I caught the scent of roses. Then a picture frame on the dresser toppled over. I inhaled sharply, then squealed with alarm as a hand clamped down on my shoulder.

“Whoa! It’s just me,” Bates said, catching my arms before I hit him. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name twice.”

“You did?” My breath came hard and fast. At his nod, I shook my head. “I didn’t hear a thing. But I think you’d better take a look at whoever’s in that picture frame on the dresser.”

“Why?”

“Because it just fell over for no reason!”

His eyes narrowed. He was thinking that maybe my imagination was working overtime. He’d seen that happen at homicides before, because of the shock of dead bodies and all that blood. But what if there was something to it? Was it part of my powers at work?

“Sure. I’ll get it.” He moved to the dresser and pulled on some rubber gloves before picking up the frame.

I glanced over his shoulder into the photo of a smiling man wearing a suit and tie. “I don’t know who that is,” I said. “But I think he might be the killer.”

Bates glanced at me, thinking that maybe it wasn’t a waste to bring me after all. “Sure. I’ll look into it.”

I closed my eyes and let out a relieved breath. “Is it okay if I go sit in the car now?”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

I held my breath and hurried out of the house, keeping one eye closed so I wouldn’t see the dead bodies again. After pushing through the door, I stumbled down the porch steps in my haste to get out of there.

I managed to keep my balance and continued toward the car, where I stopped to plant my hands on my knees and lean over to settle my stomach. Sheesh! That was horrible!

As I opened the car door and sat down, I decided then and there, that I was never going to a crime scene again. I’d much rather sit in on a suspect’s questioning than get scared half to death by a departed spirit.

On the other hand, at least it was Bates and not Dimples who’d been there. Bates wouldn’t question my ability, but Dimples would have had questions that I didn’t want to answer. How could I tell him that sometimes I heard dead people… Of course, since he knew I could read minds, did it really matter?

Probably not. But maybe working for Uncle Joey and not helping the police so much would be better for me… even if it wasn’t exactly the right thing to do.