Author's Note: Thank you to all who read and reviewed my debut fic "Let Them Eat Cake." I wasn't sure how it would be received and your gentle reviews were very encouraging. While writing this piece, I realized I'm still finding my "voice" as an author. I'm also still working my way into the heads of Cal and Gillian. Please bear with me and enjoy the ride!
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Lie to Me' or any of its characters. Also, although there is an actual town in Virginia called Albie, I have never been there. My depiction of the place is entirely fictional.
'Taken for a Ride'
Chapter 1
She cursed under her breath as she checked the address on the slip of paper one more time. Sure enough, it hadn't changed since the last time she'd looked at it five minutes earlier: 11369 Dogwood Lane, Albie, Virginia. She'd never even heard of Albie, Virginia until last night when Cal had emailed her the location of their meeting. Now, after driving around the town repeatedly for the last 15 minutes, Gillian felt like she'd already seen everything the town had to offer. She usually liked small towns but Albie had certainly seen better days. A decrepit pharmacy, a post office missing both of the 'o's from the sign, a gas station that looked like it hadn't seen a customer in a month, and two dingy bars (both open this Saturday morning) graced the main drag. A skinny old man with his pants belted up near his chest tottered past on the remains of a cracked sidewalk. His left hand held a doughnut, his right a dog leash. At the other end of the leash was a small mixed-breed dog. As slow as the old man was walking, the dog was walking slower, trailing along behind the man. When Gillian drove by, the man scowled at her and the dog bared its teeth. How charming, she thought.
Mercifully, the next cross-street was Dogwood Lane. She turned onto it and almost immediately saw a plaque with the address she was looking for set into a low stone wall. She turned into the driveway and her curiosity went into overdrive. Cal's email from the night before had asked her if she was available to help him with something for a few hours but had neglected to say what that something was. Ordinarily she'd have told him to go take a flying leap, inventing a vital lunch with girlfriends or trip to the spa. However, she'd done both of those things last weekend and nothing else particularly interesting was on her calendar for the next two days so she'd messaged him back, agreeing to meet him at the location he provided.
As she proceeded slowly down the gravel driveway, a low, reddish building came into view. A barn maybe? On the other side of the driveway, about 200 yards past the barn she could just make out a small white house. As she drew near the barn she saw a bare patch of dirt off to the side. Tire tracks suggested it had once been used as a parking lot, so she pulled into it, shut off the ignition and climbed out of the car.
It was then that she noticed the large sign above the barn doors, welcoming her to 'Stony Brook Stables." By way of additional greeting, a horse whinnied from inside the barn.
What in the he-? Why does Cal need my help at a horse farm, or ranch, or whatever you call a place in the country where horses live? Wait, did Cal even like horses? She couldn't remember ever hearing him comment on them one way or the other. A whiff of horse dung struck her nostrils. Filthy beasts. Her apprehension ratcheted up a notch.
Just then Cal appeared, walking jauntily around the corner of the barn with a big smile on his face. He was dressed casually in boots, jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket. All were black. A pair of mirrored sunglasses dangled from one hand.
"Good morning Sunshine!"
"Cal," she said warily. In her experience, an excessively cheerful Cal was a devious Cal. Just what did he have up his sleeve, she wondered.
"Now is that any way to greet a friend?" He feigned hurt.
"It is if said friend won't tell me what's going on. Why am I in the back of beyond, standing in front of stables, and how exactly am I supposed to be helping you?"
He looked faintly sheepish as he answered. "Ah, yes, about that. It's actually not so much helping me as helping you."
"Wait, I'm out here to help myself. And how exactly is that going to work?"
"Ah!" He clapped his hands together and grinned. "I thought you'd never ask. Follow me love."
Taking her hand gently in his, he led Gillian around the side of the side of the barn. To her astonishment, there in front of them stood a very big, very black, very shiny… motorcycle.
"Um, okaaaay. I get it. Not a flesh and blood horse but an iron horse. Sure, fine. Great." She shot him a puzzled look. "I'm still confused." She gestured at the bike. "What, exactly, am I supposed to do with it?"
"You're supposed to ride it." Her eyes widened in shock. "With me." She blinked once.
"I'm supposed to get on that thing?"
"That thing is a Triumph."
"A triumph of what? Stupidity over common-sense? Death wish over survival instinct? Testosterone over… over… estrogen?"
"A Triumph Speedmaster. 865 cc of air-cooled, fuel injected, raw power." His eyes gleamed. "Look at those pipes, that chrome. Isn't she beautiful?" He brushed his hand lovingly across the fuel tank.
" "She" is a death machine. Did you know that motorcyclists are 16 times more likely to die in a crash than occupants of a car? Cal? Are you listening?" He continued to stare longingly at the bike. She wondered if he was about to start drooling. "Do you have a death wish or something?"
"Nah, love. Not when I'm riding my bike."
She almost laughed before she realized he was completely serious. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, though she knew she shouldn't be so surprised. Lord knew she'd seen Cal's reckless streak rear its ugly head plenty of times at work. Was it so surprising that he liked living on the edge outside the office?
She suspected that if she flat out refused to get on the bike it would only make Cal more determined to get her to ride it. She tried a softer approach. "Cal, I don't know. I've never seen myself as the sort of woman to ride around on the back of a motorcycle. It's really not my style, and besides, it really is dangerous."
"Foster, life is inherently dangerous." He put his right hand over his heart. "I promise I'll keep you safe."
She decided to level with him. "Look, Cal, the thing is, I'm so scared of getting on that thing that I'm about to wet my pants. I believe in my head that you won't let me get hurt, but it's hard to convince the rest of me that's true."
Finally appreciating the extent of her fear, Cal stepped closer to her, reaching out to hold her by the shoulders.
"Foster," he said softly, "by now you've known me long enough to know that I'd never ask you to do something that I thought would end up getting you hurt. I wish I could tell you what it feels like to ride a motorcycle, but I can't. I need you to let me show you."
Damn it. He could sense her wavering. She made one last feeble attempt at resistance.
"I don't think I'm dressed right."
"I knew you'd say that." Cal reached down on the other side of the bike and came up with a leather jacket and helmet. He held them out to Gillian. "I reckon these'll fit you ok."
She shrugged her arms into the jacket. It was a weathered looking old bomber jacket, that, like the town of Albie, had clearly seen better days. The sheepskin lining was almost worn through in places and the zipper stuck twice as she pulled the tab up.
Cal handed her the helmet.
"Um, how do I wear this thing?" She was in unfamiliar territory when it came to helmets. In fact, she'd never actually engaged in any activity before that had required them. There was probably good reason for that. The thought made her stomach churn.
"You put it on your head and let me buckle it for you, you silly goose." He finished buckling the strap and pulled the clear visor down. "It's best if you keep that down when we're moving, but feel free to flip it up when we're stopped." She practiced moving the visor up and down a few times.
"So here's how it works. Once I'm finished getting my gear on, I'm going to get on the bike and start it. I'll give you a hand, but you'll have to get yourself seated right behind me. Put your butt on the seat, your feet on the little pegs on either side, and make sure you don't burn your leg on the exhaust pipe.
Once you've got your feet on the pegs, keep them there. Under no circumstances are you to try to put your feet on the ground. I don't care if it starts raining fire and brimstone, you keep your feet on those pegs until I tell you it's ok to move, got it?"
She felt like she should salute but squashed the impulse. "Got it. How do I get off the thing?"
"When we stop and I tell you it's ok to dismount, you just reverse the steps you took to get on. Easy as pie."
"What about when we're moving? What am I supposed to do then? You're not going to let me fall off are you?"
"No, you're going to keep yourself from falling off. I'm not leaving that bike, so as long as you hold on to me, you won't either. The other thing I need you to do is lean with me when go through a turn. When we head into a left turn, look over my left shoulder and that will shift your weight to the left. For a right turn, right shoulder, lean right. Got it?"
"I guess." She sounded skeptical. "How will I know how much to lean?"
"You won't." He grinned at her. "But don't worry; you'll get a feel for it. Now there are two other very important things you need to do. One - relax. And two - have fun. Let me just get my gear on and we'll be off."
He reached around the bike and pulled out a black half-helmet. Painted on the top was a Union Jack. He buckled the chin-strap, pulled on a pair of black leather gloves, and slid his leg over the seat of the bike. Then he put the key in the ignition and hit the starter.
Even though she was expecting it, Gillian jumped when the engine turned over. If the bike had looked scary before now it sounded scary too. The roar was deafening. And then there was Cal. Normally he looked like a badly dressed, extremely rumpled street person. Today he looked like the poster child for bad behavior. Amidst the black of the bike and his clothing, his wicked grin stood out like a nun in a whorehouse.
The roar of the engine faded to a manageable rumble and he held out his hand in invitation to her.
Oh God. Why on earth was she about to do this? Was this some bizarre, unintended side effect of divorce? "Leave your husband, lose your mind, and GO DO CRAZY STUFF!" Yes, girls, there was no doubt about it. Cal was definitely the man your mother warned you about.
Oh for heaven's sake, Foster, she told herself. Stop being such a sissy. You promised yourself you'd seek out new experiences after your divorce, so get on the damn bike already! And with that, she marched over to the bike, grabbed Cal's extended hand, and climbed on. Her feet found the pegs easily enough and she tentatively grabbed Cal's waist.
He turned his head to look over his left shoulder at her and spoke. "I'm going to go fairly slow until we're through town, then I'll pick up a bit of speed. If at any point you feel like you want me to stop, for any reason, just tell me. Ready?"
She nodded mutely and then they were moving. Immediately, her tentative hold on Cal became an octopus like clinging. The gravel driveway which felt so smooth in her car now made her teeth rattle. She was amazed at how loud the gravel sounded, crunching under the wheels of the bike. When they reached the end of the driveway, Cal turned to speak to her again.
"Remember, Foster – breathe." He gave a quick grin and turned out into the street. She stifled a shriek as the bike began to pick up speed. At least the asphalt was smooth, thank God, and she didn't feel like she was about to be bounced off the thing. She felt her pants legs flapping in the air and wondered if it was possible to be blown off instead. Leaning into Cal to get a better hold of him, she realized that if she peeked over his shoulder she could see the speedometer. Mother of God! It felt like they were rocketing along but if the speedometer was to be believed they'd barely hit 30.
Before she knew it, they'd slowed to a stop for a red light at the single stoplight in Albie. Cal lightly rested his left hand on Gillian's ankle and spoke to her over his shoulder. "Doing ok back there?" She nodded. "Good girl." He kept his hand on her leg until the light turned green, then smoothly accelerated out of town and towards the hills.
She'd thought the bike had been travelling fast in town, but now she realized that her perception of speed was drastically warped. No longer wrapped in a cocoon of steel, plastic, and glass, fifty miles an hour felt like eighty. She clung to Cal as roadside whizzed by. Even through her sunglasses the sun was brilliant, giving the countryside a crisp, sharp focus. The red, orange, and yellow leaves flicked like a kaleidoscope. In the distance she saw cows grazing as the road curved gently to climb a small hill.
Oh God! A curve. The resurgence of her fear made her heart pound. Well, that's it, she thought. Goodbye cruel world. I'm about to fall off the back of a motorcycle and become nothing but a smear on the road. I knew I'd regret this, knew it, knew it, knew it…
Cal's gentle squeeze of her ankle snapped her out of her panic. She recalled his earlier instructions and took a deep breath and tightened her grip on him, the better to feel his weight shift during the turn. The bike slowed slightly and Cal gently rolled on the throttle, accelerating slightly as he pushed right on the handlebar and leaned right. Following his lead, Gillian tried to shift her weight as well. The bike heeled over to the right as they navigated the turn and she felt a brief stab of panic at the thought of the bike pitching over too far and crashing. And then as smoothly as they'd entered the turn, they were out of it.
Wow. That was… not as bad as she'd feared. The bike had gone around a curve and she was still alive. As her fear ebbed, she realized that her death grip on Cal had loosened slightly and she hadn't fallen off the bike. She felt herself begin to relax, becoming aware of her surroundings again. Her nose was assaulted by a succession of odors. She smelled freshly cut hay, then moldering leaves, followed by the smell of something burning. Trash, firewood, leaves? She couldn't tell. She felt as much as heard the sound of the motor – the vibration of the seat and chassis - and the whirring of the tires on the road. A car passed them in the opposite direction with a loud whoosh. She could feel the heat of the exhaust pipe on her leg but it wasn't uncomfortable. The November air had a nip to it but the sun still retained a tiny bit of its summer warmth.
They rode on, Gillian taking in the passing scenery. They passed through the middle of a shallow valley with corn fields on either side of the road. A dilapidated house sat in the middle of one field, surrounded by the stubs of the harvested corn. They continued on over hills and down into more valleys. In one, a rocky stream ran alongside the road. In another, a deer careened off into the bushes, startled by their passing. After passing through a particularly winding section of road, Gillian realized she'd forgotten to be scared. Riding a motorcycle through curves was a bit like dancing she decided. There was a certain rhythm to the way one leaned – first lean one way, then sit up, then lean the other way, then sit up. She wondered if Cal would think of it in those terms.
She didn't know how long they'd been riding when Cal slowed the bike. Ahead she could see a weathered wooden building. A neon sign out front simply said, "Jimmy's." They pulled into the dirt parking lot and stopped next to a line of three other bikes. Cal cut the engine and the world went quiet. He sat still for a moment before turning to Gillian.
"What did you think?" he asked with a smile.
Her eyes sparkled. "I… liked it." She smiled right back.
"I thought you might. Come on, let's get some lunch."
He held out his hand to help her balance as she got off the bike. Then he dismounted. They took off their helmets and left them balanced on the seat of the bike. As they walked toward the door, Cal put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "We'll make a biker out of you yet, Foster." Grinning, she gave him a gentle elbow to the ribs.
They went inside, Cal holding the door for Gillian, and stopped for a moment to let their eyes adjust to the dim room. Worn looking booths lined the three walls of the restaurant and in one corner stood an old-fashioned jukebox. The fourth wall was fronted by a long wooden bar. In an extra-large booth near the bar sat the riders of the other bikes parked out front - three huge men all with more hair on their faces than on their heads, and three women who took the "bigger is better" approach to hairstyling. Two of the women wore blue eye shadow.
Cal and Gillian sat down across from each other in a booth near the door and Cal handed her a plastic covered menu.
"You place your order at the bar, so as soon as you know what you want I'll go up."
She looked at him quizzically. "How do you figure out what you want if you don't look at the menu?"
"I've been here before. I always get the beef stew. It's delicious."
She handed the plastic menu back to him. "Okay. Beef stew it is then. And I'll have a beer to go with it. Whatever they have on tap."
"Your wish is my command." When he reached the bar, the bikers' conversation stopped, only to resume again once he'd returned to Gillian. He handed her a frothy beer and took a sip of his own ginger ale. Before either could speak, a woman came through a door in the back of the restaurant carrying a tray on which sat two large bowls of stew and a loaf of what looked to be crusty homemade bread. She placed the food on the table along with two napkin wrapped bundles of utensils.
"Y'all enjoy your lunch. Just give Jimmy," she nodded to the bar, "a yell if you need anything else."
They thanked her and dug in. As Cal had predicted, the stew was excellent. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Gillian wiped her mouth with a napkin and leaned back against the seat of the booth. "So. Spill it Lightman. How long have you been riding motorcycles and how long did I not know that?"
"Aha, I knew the inquisition was coming. I started riding motorcycles when I was 16. They were cheap transportation and like most boys that age I had more testosterone than I knew what to do with. I started on little mopeds, and then gradually worked my way through the larger sport bikes and cruisers. I rode all the way up until the time Emily was born. Then Zoe insisted I quit. So I did.
But I missed riding. After Zoe and I split up, I realized I could do whatever I wanted." He made a wry face. "You know how that goes."
"Um." She took a sip of her beer.
"I just bought the Triumph and got back into it about eight months ago. So don't worry, you're not too far out of the loop." He paused as the group of bikers said a noisy farewell to Jimmy and went outside.
"Does Emily know you do this for fun?"
"Yup. She's fine with it. Though I can't convince her to join me."
"Ah," Gillian said. "At least one member of the Lightman clan has some sense."
"Hey, now. Admit it. You were having fun out there weren't you?"
"Yes, yes, I confess." She held his gaze. "It's… intense." She thought she saw something flicker in his eyes but wasn't sure."
"Yeah. Yeah it is." He resumed eating.
They finished the rest of their meal in silence. Cal threw down a few dollars for a tip and they headed back outside. Pausing outside the front door to slip on their sunglasses, they saw the male half of the biker crowd had stopped for a smoke. The three men lounged by corner of the building, looking hard at Cal and Gillian. Despite her skill at reading people, Gillian felt unnerved by their attention. She slipped her arm through Cal's, partly to reassure herself the bikers meant no harm and partly to make sure Cal didn't feel the need to aggravate them. He had a knack for pissing people off and she was pretty sure these men would not react well to a short, cocky, Englishman pestering them.
The largest of the three dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it beneath his boot. "Hey fella, whatcha riding? Don't look like no Harley I've ever seen. Is that some kind of Limey bike?" His buddies laughed.
Gillian tensed slightly but Cal still felt relaxed. "Yeah, actually it is. It's got some pretty good torque down low, know what I mean? Come on; let me show her to you." Cal pulled away from Gillian and moved towards his bike, waving for the bikers to follow him. The three glanced at each other skeptically but followed Cal.
Gillian was trying to figure out how to keep the brutes from crushing Cal in the dirt just like the cigarette butt when she saw Cal gesticulate wildly and heard the men burst out in raucous laughter. A moment later all four of them were gathered close around the bike, peering intently at the engine. Ah the universal ritual of male bonding – a bunch of guys standing around looking at the guts of a vehicle, each pretending he knew what the hell he was looking at. True, Cal could be an enormous pain in the ass at times, but he could also be quite charming – when he tried. She figured Cal was safe for the moment and turned back into the restaurant in search of the ladies room.
The first thing Gillian saw when she opened the door to the restroom was hair and lots of it. The three biker women were standing in front of the mirror, each with her hands to her head trying to do… something with her hair. They stopped when they saw Gillian enter.
"Oh. Hey there!" the one in the middle said brightly. She was wearing a baby doll t-shirt that read, "I'm not A bitch, I'm THE bitch!" The shirt was barely large enough to contain her cleavage.
Wondering if Cal expected her to start dressing like a biker chick, she replied. "Hi there. Um, so where are you guys headed?" She hoped she hadn't just violated some unwritten biker code by asking about their destination.
The shortest of the three, a platinum blonde, answered. "Oh we're headed on up into the Blue Ridge to see some more of the leaves and whatever other scenic views we can find."
She leaned towards Gillian conspiratorially as if to put her hand on her arm. "But honey, your boyfriend is the best thing we've seen all day."
Her companions roared with laughter and Gillian blushed. "Oh, he's not my boyfriend."
"Well girrrrl, why on earth not?" More laughter followed.
Gillian wasn't sure if it was a rhetorical question or not, but she answered. "We work together."
"Ah. I guess that complicates things. You don't want to look like you're banging your boss."
She tried not to let the presumption of male leadership get to her. "No it's not that. For one thing, he's not the boss. We're business partners – have been for years."
"Hmm, business partners, bed partners. They don't sound too far apart to me." The biker women chuckled. "Anyway, y'all have a safe ride. Maybe we'll see you around sometime."
How bizarre, Gillian thought. Ever since she'd taken off her wedding ring, the entire planet seemed to be making assumptions about who she was sleeping with. It was bad enough when the people were her friends, but when they were strangers it was seriously annoying.
When she got back to the bike she found Cal lounging against the seat. She was struck once more by his bad boy appearance. Dressed all in black he looked wicked – in a good way.
He smiled when he saw her. "Ready to hit the road again, love?"
"Sure am." She found herself eager to get back on the bike and ride some more. They put on their gear and Cal started the bike. He let it idle for a moment before gesturing for Gillian to get on. She climbed aboard and wrapped her arms around him. He gave her arm a quick squeeze before revving the engine and pulling out onto the road.
Cal gunned the engine and shifted quickly through the gears. His thoughts were spinning almost as fast as the tires on the asphalt. He had miscalculated. Badly. He'd wanted to draw Gillian out of her shell, get her to try something new, something she'd likely never try on her own. A motorcycle ride had seemed like the perfect idea. Unfortunately he'd neglected to consider the potential side effects of spending several hours with Dr. Gillian Foster literally wrapped around him. He knew she could see the speedometer over his shoulder but he fervently hoped she couldn't see the bulge in his crotch. He was not keen on having to explain to his long-time friend and business partner why she was causing his giant erection.
He couldn't understand it. In his misspent youth he'd ferried around plenty of attractive women on his bike. None of them had ever caused such a reaction. He was middle aged now, for pity's sake, and well past the time in his life where this sort of thing was supposed to happen. He nearly groaned when Gillian shifted slightly, pressing her breasts harder into his back and tightening her hold on his waist. Even through two layers of industrial strength leather the sensation was enough to make him start to sweat.
He flashed back to the look she'd given him at lunch. "It's… intense." Truer words were never spoken, though she wasn't to know that. Oh God, no. She definitely wasn't to know that. How could he possibly explain this to her when he had no idea himself why it had happened? Here was a woman he'd known and worked with on a daily basis for years. That she should suddenly arouse him to the point of pain was hard to get his head around.
A car passed in the opposite direction a little closer to the center yellow line than Cal would have liked. He realized he needed to stop thinking about how good Gillian felt or they'd both become road kill. The image helped dampen his desire. He began to push harder through the turns, taking them at higher speed and leaning the bike more aggressively, forcing his mind to stay on the task at hand.
Rolling up the driveway of Stony Brook Stables was both a blessing and curse, Cal thought. A part of him didn't want Gillian to get off the bike – ever. Another part of him wanted her as far away as possible so his brain could resume rational thought. He pulled into the dirt parking lot next to Gillian's car and cut the engine. They both sat in silence for a moment, listening to the horses shuffling in their stalls. Cal held out his hand to help Gillian balance as she dismounted. He put the kickstand down and leaned the bike into in but he stayed seated.
He removed his sunglasses and looked at her with an arched eyebrow. She mimicked his actions and arched an eyebrow right back at him. "Yes, Cal?"
He couldn't help but smile broadly at her. "Well Foster? Did you enjoy the second half of the ride as much as you enjoyed the first?" You'd run screaming if you knew how much I enjoyed it, he thought.
"Yes I did. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you pushed your limits a little more the second half didn't you?"
"That I did." It suddenly dawned on him that she might not have appreciated his more aggressive riding. He looked at her with more concern. "I'm sorry love – didn't scare you did I?" He hated himself for being so involved with his own reaction to her that he failed to consider how she might feel about the way he was riding.
She smiled softly at him. "No. I wasn't scared."
She took off her helmet and jacket and started to hand them back to Cal but he waved her off. "No, no. You'd better keep them. If you want to go for another ride sometime?" He looked at her questioningly.
She gave him one of her most radiant smiles. "I'd like that very much. Thanks for being patient with me this morning." She hesitated. "I promise I'll be a little more open to new experiences with you in the future." Hell. She'd noticed. Had she noticed? He smiled back, hoping she wouldn't notice it didn't quite reach his eyes.
She opened her car door, tossed the jacket and helmet into the passenger seat and climbed behind the wheel. She shut the door and rolled down the window. "Hmm, feels weird to be in a car again."
"Just wait til you start driving. I'll follow you to main road."
"Ok. See you Monday Cal."
"Monday Foster."
She drove slowly down the rutted driveway and turned onto the road through the little town of Albie. Cal followed at a distance until they reached the interstate that would take them back to D.C. Then he opened the throttle and with a roar and a wave, he blasted past Gillian, down highway and out of sight.
