No one ever rang my bell. My apartment was damn near a no-fly zone, and I liked it that way. Keeping my head tilted, I listened for signs of life outside the door. It had to be a mistake.
“Shelter in Place”
A River Reapers MC Short Story
Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.
This short is NSFW-ish.
Beer Can
When the virus hit Connecticut, my old ass was stretched out in my recliner, filling in a Sudoku puzzle with good ol’ fashioned pencil and paper. I don’t fuck around with that app shit. I know there’s no truth to the whole 5G thing, but there are a lot of downsides to technology. I’ve never been a slave to anything; I refuse to be glued to my cell phone all day.
The governor came on to urge everyone to stay at home, and right as I rolled my eyes, my doorbell rang.
I sat up in the recliner, frowning. No one ever rang my bell. My apartment was damn near a no-fly zone, and I liked it that way. Keeping my head tilted, I listened for signs of life outside the door. It had to be a mistake.
But no. The ding-dong of a second ring rilled my apartment. Setting the puzzle aside, I worked my way out of the well worn chair—too broken-in to get out of easily, but perfectly formed for my body and nice long naps.
Yeah, some badass biker, I know.
“Hold on,” I called out, making my way to the front door. I unlocked the top and bottom locks, and swung it open. There was no one there. The bell rang again, and I headed toward the back porch. Unlocking the sliding glass door, I pushed aside the blinds and shoved it open. “Pru?” I gaped at the dancer from The Wet Mermaid standing on my deck.
“Special delivery,” she said, thrusting a box toward me.
“What’s this?” I stared at the box, making no move to take it from her.
“Mark ordered some merch but it came to my place by mistake.”
“Your place?” I blinked at her. “Why in the world would it come to your place?”
Steely blue eyes met mine. She shook the box at me.
“You . . . and Mark?” My eyebrows furrowed. Pru was young enough to be my granddaughter, if I had kids. I was also pretty sure she was exclusively into women. The name of her band was Cervical Caves, for Christ’s sake.
This old man couldn’t keep up.
“It was a one-time thing,” she said, inching closer with the box. “Mark said to drop it off at your place, since you’re closer to me.”
“Oh, it’s none of my business,” I said too late. “But what does he want me to do with this?”
The sliding glass door of the adjoining apartment scraped open. My neighbor and the street gossip, Mrs. Henry, poked her head out.
“You know what, dear, you better just come in.” I ushered Pru inside, giving Mrs. Henry a harsh look before closing up.
Pru set the box down on my kitchen table. We stood there, eyeing each other, unsure of how to act outside of the workplace.
Five weeks later, we still don’t really know how to act.
I sprawl in my recliner, Pru curled against me. We’re still connected, neither of us making any attempt to move.
“This is a one-time thing,” she says, for the thousandth time.
“Sure.” I stroke her back, soaking in her presence. Even though I used to appreciate the peace of living alone without visitors, I’m not sure I could’ve survived the last month without her. I’m still not sure how we went from sorting hoodies by size to kissing to undressing to fucking more times a day than I can count. Suddenly I’m like a teenager again, and I’m still unclear on Pru’s sexuality.
But maybe it’s as fluid as quarantine time, I don’t know. I’m just glad she chose to shelter in place with me.
THE END
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Elizabeth Barone 