When the Fairytale Ends Read Free Page B

now.
    Sighing, he put the mirror down, realizing that aging was inevitable. The only exception was death, and he wasn’t ready to die yet.
    He went into the bedroom and changed into a ribbed crew neck shirt, jeans, and motorcycle shoes. The smell of chocolate cake wafted up through the vents, which could only mean one thing. Shania was downstairs in the basement, finishing another batch of those chocolate fudge cupcakes to complete the top tier of her cupcake pyramid. What happened to today being all about me and no work? he thought to himself, chuckling. But that was okay with him. As long as she was occupied, she wouldn’t bombard him with a thousand questions about what Franklin and he were up to.
    Two horn toots from outside signified Franklin’s arrival, and Greg peeked his head in the basement, told Shania he was gone, and hurried outside to jump in Franklin’s truck. He prayed that he didn’t punk out.

Two
    His butt had barely settled in the seat good before Franklin started in on him with the technicalities of the situation.
    â€œNow I’m just gonna be real with you,” Franklin said, pulling onto the highway. “That bike you saw on TV was the real deal, ain’t no denying that. But that bike had to be at least 1000 cc. You try to drive something like that and you’ll find yourself wrapped around a tree somewhere.”
    â€œThanks for the encouragement,” Greg said dryly.
    â€œNo problem, buddy,” Franklin replied and gave Greg a heavy-handed pat on his back. “Get you something with that same design but shoot for 249 cc, maybe 449 at the most. And we’re gonna look at the V-twins only, no I4s. Boy, those I4s are like driving a horse! All that power in the head—it ain’t for beginners, you feel me?”
    â€œI’m not a beginner,” Greg reminded him. “I do have my license, and I’ve been riding bikes for years. I just never owned one.”
    Greg usually rented a bike every couple of months. He stuck to highway riding or familiar biker trails. He hadn’t rented any bikes since getting married, because Shania didn’t know he had a motorcycle license.
    â€œYeah, yeah, whatever.” Franklin increased the volume on the radio, nodding and singing off-key to a throwback song from the Commodores. Then he lowered the volume and said, “I can’t believe Shania’s actually cool with you getting a bike.”
    â€œWho said she was cool with it?”
    Franklin lifted his eyebrows, then jabbed Greg’s side with his fist. “Let me find out my boy has a little heart! But when you bring that bike home, let’s see how long you keep it before she makes you bring it back.”
    â€œWho said I was bringing a bike home? I said I would look at it. I didn’t say I was going to buy anything.”
    â€œOh, you’ll buy,” Franklin said, nodding. “You wait until you find that right bike, the one that you can see your reflection in. And you wait until you sit on that seat and put your hands on those bars, and feel as though that very bike was created for no one else on this earth but you. And I guarantee you’ll buy.”
    â€œOkay,” Greg said and popped his lips. “We’ll see.”
    â€œOh, we will see.”
    Though he tried to conceal it, Franklin’s words sent a flood of excitement flowing through Greg’s veins. It was bad enough that he was even considering window-shopping for a bike, but at the thought of feeling that bike beneath him, fitting his body so perfectly, and owning it forever, he began to create drafts of a budget within his mind. As long as it wasn’t more than twelve thousand, he’d at least consider buying it.
    His fascination for bikes began a long time ago, on one drafty summer day when he had stumbled upon something covered in tarp near the back of his father’s barn. Curious, he had lifted the tarp, and when he saw his