Page 60 of Haunt Me

“Can I?” I ask, already reaching for the seat.

He waves a hand. “Go ahead.”

I swing one leg over the seat. My feet touch the ground easily. The scooter’s small enough that it doesn’t feel intimidating. Both hands find the grips, and I look through the mirrors, one reflecting the garage behind me and the other aimed slightly toward the sky.

The man adjusts the crooked one until my face appears.

Dark curls escaping the loose knot at the back of my head.

"I can sell it to you," he says. "I just can't let you ride it off the lot."

“Wait, so I can buy her, I just can’t have her yet?” I swing my leg back off the seat, already turning that over. “That feels like a very specific kind of torture.”

“Welcome to bureaucracy.”

“So what do I actually need?”

"A learner’s permit first. Then your license. Registration. Insurance.” He watches something flicker across my face, some visible version of the list piling up faster than I can process it, and his voice softens. “We’ll help you with the paperwork once you get that far. One thing at a time.”

"How long does all that take?"

He shrugs. "Depends on how hard you study."

“Oh, I’m excellent at studying. It’s the one part of my old life I was actually good at.” The words come out before I fully think them through, but he doesn’t ask what I mean by old life, just watches me with something that looks almost like patience.

He glances at the scooter. "Leave me a deposit, and I'll hold it for you."

“You’d do that? For a total stranger?”

“You’re not exactly a flight risk. No car to skip town, and you’d just be out the deposit if you changed your mind.” He shrugs. “Besides. She’s been sitting here six months, and nobody’s so much as looked twice.”

“Why not?”

“Most folks who ride motorcycles for a living don’t want to be caught dead on something the color of bubblegum.” His mouth twitches. “No offense to bubblegum.”

“None taken, on bubblegum’s behalf.”

That actually gets a laugh out of him, short and surprised, like it’s been a while since something made him do that.

“I’ll take her.”

His eyebrows climb. “That’s it? No sleeping on it, no pro-con list?”

“You say that like it’s not exactly what I want to do.” I glance at the scooter, then back at him. “But I’ve spent twenty-three years thinking things only to have someone else make the decision for me. I’m trying something different today.”

Something shifts behind his eyes, quick and unreadable, gone before I can name it.

“That sounds like a hell of a way to live.”

“It was.”

He watches me for another second. “You still should know what you’re buying.”

“You said it runs.”

“It does,” he confirms.

“You said it’s been serviced.”