Wilson hadn't been very forthcoming when House had plied him with twenty questions, and now he sat sullenly in the passenger seat watching as the city passed outside his window. Bouncing the wooden cane on the floor boards had only prompted Wilson into turning the volume of the radio up, and House fidgeted in his seat as the morning show announcer rattled on about the price of beef.
When House casually switched radio stations he'd been met with a deadly glare from Wilson who'd promptly flipped it back, leaving House to fume and silently vow to reprogram all of Wilson's presets.
Who cared if the female traffic personality had a sexy voice? If there was more to her than just a voice, she'd be on television, not hiding behind a microphone in some dingy room.
"You might be in luck," stated House as the lady's voice announced the southern turnpike was slow due to a collision and urged listeners to seek alternate routes. Wilson looked curiously at House.
Nodding towards the radio, House continued. "As many cigarettes as she smokes, you're likely to have her as one of your patients soon."
Wilson's jaw dropped. "Wha—"
"C'mon, you don't really believe that low, sultry, sex-oozing growl is natural?" questioned House as Wilson gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw set in a clench. He missed House's smirk of triumph as the older man turned back to the window.
They continued the drive without speaking, the muffled thumping of the cane keeping time with the advertising jingles.
Pulling into a series of strip malls at long last, House scanned the signs for a clue to their destination. There were your typical small franchise Teriyaki restaurants, the obligatory coffee shop, a comic book store, nail salons, hair stylists, cigarette shop and assorted odds and ends, none of which really attracted his attention.
One store front was completely blank. Almost as if the sign guys had forgotten it's existence, the windows were covered with white poster board announcing 'opening soon', yet gave no hint as to what type of merchandise or service one could expect when they indeed did open. And it was this location that Wilson chose to park in front of, House's curiosity was piqued but he tried playing it down.
"Hookers are us?" he quipped as they exited the vehicle. Chuckling Wilson headed directly towards the mysterious shop not waiting to see if House was following. Opening the door he stepped aside and let House enter first.
The first thing one noticed upon entering the shop was the strong odor of leather, and judging from the displays he found himself surrounded by there was a very good reason for that. Everywhere House looked one saw leather. Leather jackets, chaps, vests, gloves, boots, and a myriad of other leathery items. All right, House had to admit there was a certain appeal to the rebel bad boy in him that relished the look and feel of fine leather, but it was as if they had walked into leather world.
He shot an enquiring look at Wilson who just grinned back like the Cheshire cat.
"Doctor Wilson." A young man called out emerging from the back room. Sandy blonde hair, this kid could have passed for the average surfer in California from the looks of him. Khaki shorts in the middle of winter and some anime character emblazoned across his chest made House think of high school dropouts. The kid flashed Wilson a big smile and reached out to shake his hand. Returning the handshake, Wilson thumbed towards House.
"Charlie, this is my friend I was telling you about, Doctor House." The kid smiled wider, if such a thing was possible and held his hand out to House, who promptly ignored him pretending to still be scanning the store.
"Good to meet you sir, and I think we've got exactly what you need," Charlie beamed, not at all put out by House's lack of acknowledgment and dropping his hand into a right-this-way gesture.
"Need?" Looking back towards Wilson who was nodding in the direction the young man was pointing, House felt obligated to at least see what was up Wilson's sleeve. "Don't recall needing anything," House muttered just loudly enough to be heard. Both Wilson and Charlie ignored him.
Charlie led them to the far wall which was covered with what appeared to be large square cubicles like the post office might use for medium sized packages. Instead of boxes or packages most of the cubicles contained helmets. A wide array of helmets were nestled in the partitions, most of them showing random intricate patterns or airbrushed designs resembling those of a goalie's mask in hockey.
House wondered how he'd failed to notice these on his initial survey of the interior. Lost in his own thoughts, he'd tuned out the conversation between Wilson and Charlie as they discussed one of Charlie's relatives and their remission. House's eyes roamed across another row of helmets then stopped.
The flame striping wound across the bottom of the facemask and curled into larger flames meeting in the back, hovering on a three dimensional look the way the artist had layered flames against the onyx background and matched the colors on his cane. A mirrored visor completed the look and catching his reflection House grinned as he picked up the full-faced helmet almost letting out a whistle. He was surprised at the weight in his hands, a Shoei X-Eleven top of the line model and certainly not designed for your casual rider. House turned at the silence to find Wilson staring smugly at his friend, to which House uttered one word. "Bitchin'."
Setting his cane against the wall House was examining the helmet more closely when Charlie spoke up. "We've added an extra feature," he said pointing to a small rca plug tucked neatly into the inside lining. House fingered the plug, not entirely sure it's exact nature until Charlie handed him a black chord, and explained. "This allows you to plug in your mp3 player and the headphones are Sennheiser." House was nodding in agreement as he placed the helmet on his head drowning out the rest of Charlie's words, he was already impressed and Wilson was grinning like the cat-that-had-eaten-the-canary behind him.
"If you want I could hook you up with Sam, who's working on a wireless unit," Charlie finished to his own reflection.
Custom fit beat off the shelf every day, he thought as House tugged lightly towards the side feeling the helmet hug his head, almost like a comfortable glove. He marvelled that he'd not connected the disappearance of his old helmet with Wilson. Almost feeling a sense of relief when he first noticed the useless head gear missing, the cracked shell split with an ugly jagged line running across the top of the helmet, a visual reminder of his latest close call. He shuddered inwardly recalling the sharp cracking snap as if a giant egg was breaking open around his skull.
A hand on his arm caused him to turn his head and he was seeing Wilson through the tinted Plexiglas face shield, his Ipod waving back and forth in his friend's hand. House knew he was grinning like an eager kid and could only convey his meaning with a nod. Wilson stepped forward connecting the chord to his helmet then thumbed the Ipod on.
House's hands went immediately to the side of his head slapping against the cool exterior as he let out a yell. Wilson pushed pause releasing the player when House grabbed at it. Adjusting the volume to a more tolerable level, House played through a few selections then removed the helmet running a hand through his hair in an attempt to keep it laying flat.
Charlie was already handing Wilson a helmet bag and between them settled the helmet inside. House grabbed his cane, the bag, and headed for the entrance not looking back. Shaking Charlie's hand again, Wilson thanked him and hurried to catch up with the disappearing man.
"House," he called to the retreating back pushing through the door. Shaking his head he finally caught up to House at the car, and only because he was the one with the keys. "Glad you like it," said Wilson as he unlocked the passenger side for his friend.
"You didn't have to." Which was as close to a thankyou as Wilson hoped to get out of the other man.
"Just shut up House. You needed a new one," Wilson stated, ignoring why a new one was needed. "And besides that one has the highest ratings in safety features," he finished.
"Yes Mom." House replied as Wilson rolled his eyes and started the car.
As they pulled away House couldn't help but notice the slim figure that pulled up in front of the store on a Ducati Sport 1000. Watching the pair grow smaller in the side mirror House wasn't sure which he was more impressed with, the bike or the woman that was riding it. But he made a mental note to make a repeat visit.