I put the 'HELL' in 'hell on wheels!' {Trey}

[imaya]

Ah, the smell of gasoline and body odor in the morning. It was why she woke up, why she kept on living…and why she really, REALLY needed a freaking coffee before she hurt someone.

Shuffling down the street with her coffee mug in one hand and her wallet in the other, Imaya bit back a yawn as she made her way toward her favorite coffee shop. Thank God that it was so early in the morning, because she really wasn’t in the mood to pretty herself up today. That piece of crap Bob Wilson- aka, ‘The Goth Guy’ that she’d met at The Pit the other weekend- had left town, and she was feeling the Ben and Jerry’s. Now, THERE were two stand up guys; Ben and Jerry. They never left, they never became needy, they never left the toilet seat up, or told her that ‘it’s been fun, but I’ve gotta get back to my wife and newborn baby.’ Nope, those two were the best of the bunch.

And she wanted their ice cream. Really, really bad. But first, she needed her caffeine fix, or she just might go Godzilla on everyone around her.

For a few minutes, she couldn’t put a finger on why every early morning pedestrian she passed seemed to stop and stare at her. Okay, guys, she thought with an inner laugh, ‘I know I’m beautiful. You don’t have to go embarrass yourselves like this…’ What, was her hair a bit too weird looking this month? Absently, she put a hand to her currently pig-tailed, purple streaked strands. Nope, they seemed good to go. Was her pajama shorts riding up? A covert check had her frowning. Nope, she wasn’t flashing anyone her left butt cheek. So what was with the staring?

Was it her stunningly good looks? The bags under her eyes, or the ‘I hate mornings’ grumble to her voice?
…Or was it the little fuzzy monster slippers that she’d SO forgotten to replace with sneakers? Aw, crap.

See? This is why she needed her coffee maker to actually WORK.

With a very unhappy ‘GAAAH,’ Imaya continued on her quest, ignoring the looks she was getting. Just a few more blocks, that really nice cheap café would be right there, and her brain would start moving aga—

Ooh, pretty.

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, she stared at a particularly shiney motorcycle standing oh-so-innocently in front of a garage. Squinting, she read the shop’s sign and tried to coax her brain into remembering. Hell on Wheels Custom Motors…sounded familiar. Why? Did she know the owners?

And would they care that she was shuffling her way across the street, her fuzzy slippers making soft whooshing sounds as she stopped in front of the bike. Shoving a pig tail out of her face, she bent down and ran a finger over the shining handlebars. Gah, someone had found her weakness; fast, vintage motorcycles. What was this one? 1970’s Harley? Someone pinch her!

”Oh, my lovely…marry me?” She said down to the speedometer, a reverent smile on her face. Like some kind of thief, she glanced left, then right, and grinned wickedly when she saw no one in sight. With a happy sound, she swung her leg over the seat and leaned back, cooing as the leather cracked under her weight.

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[trey]

Trey was sitting inside the shop, sipping on his coffee, and looking out the plate glass window of the showroom. He was just trying to wake himself up after a long night. It was always something it seemed. Sleep was ever elusive these days. If it wasn't a hunt or something supernatural related it was out drinking at a bar or out racing bikes or cars or something as equally adrenaline pumping.

Scratching the top of his head as he took another sip from his cup his gaze was caught by something outside. A dark haired woman, well... Sort of, her hair was dark with purple streaks in it, put up in pigtails. She looked familiar but was too far away to really tell.

It was his lucky day though as she seemed to be heading across the street in his direction. She made a bee-line for his bike that was parked out front. Even though she looked familiar he hadn't placed her yet, so when she got awfully close to his bike, his eyebrows rose. When she leaned down over it he stood up. When she actually straddled it and sat down on it, he was out the door in a shot.

Hey, were those fuzzy slippers? Purple streaked hair, walking around in her P.J. shorts, fuzzy slippers. As he moved out the door of the shop, he realized who it was before he could still clearly make out her features. Shaking his head as he approached the bike. He chuckled a bit at the woman who seemed lost in the feeling of the bike. You gotta love a girl who can appreciate a machine like that.

It was lucky he knew who she was though. You didn't go around just sitting on a guys bike like that. If she had been a stranger, there would have been words, lady or not. A smile broke across his face though in this case.

"Hello, Yaya. Long time no see. You know, you're lucky that's my bike. Another man might have taken offense to the random motorcycle thief sitting astride his ride."

He stood on the next to the bike. Crossing his arms in front of his chest. Eyeing the obvious, 'not much of a morning person' Imaya DeVoux.

[imaya]

”Oh my gaaaaah, I’m in Heaven. My ass is in Heaven, and I so totally want this bike. Please, God, let me win the lottery, so I can afford something other than my craptastic Nissan From Hell…”

With a reverent sigh, YaYa slumped over the handlebars and attempted to hug them to her, without poking a hole in her chest or dropping her coffee mug. The small, unused rational part of her brain warned her that sitting on someone else’s bike was a sure way to get kicked in the ass, but she ignored it with a practiced ease. Anyone could see that she wasn’t doing anything! She wasn’t trying to steal it, get it dirty or try any other nefarious things to un-beautify the handsome piece of machinery. Hell, if anything, she looked like she should be asking it out to dinner and a movie!

But darn, there went that common sense chatter again. Fine, fine, she’d get off the stinking bike and gawk at it from the sidewalk. Stupid little voice…

When that startlingly familiar voice piped up out of nowhere, Imaya froze with her leg half-tossed over the seat. Looking up at the man who’d appeared beside her, her eyes wide with surprise, it took her a minute to get passed the ‘OH NO, HE’S GONNA BEAT ME FOR KISSING HIS BIKE!’ to ‘hey, I know him!’

Poor Trey. He should’ve remembered the last time they’d gone without seeing one another, then had a reunion and prepared himself. With a happy squeal that probably had everyone in a ten mile radius getting heart attacks, she hopped off the bike and threw herself at him. Holy crap, it was Trey! It was Trey, and he looked EXACTLY the same! And it was his bike, she’d been sitting on!

Yay, now she won’t feel as guilty when she stole his bike for a joyride! Huzzah!

”TREEEEEY! Holy cow, it has been forever, hasn’t it? And I wasn’t trying to steal your ride...just admiring it. Up close. And…darn, it did look like I was trying to steal it, huh? Well, I wasn’t! Aack, it’s so good to see you!”

Taking a step back, she proceeded to sock his shoulder with a grin. ”How come I ain’t seen you around The Pit, boy? How long you been in New Orleans, and you haven’t tried to look me up?”

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[trey]

((Sooooo sorry it took me so long. I had a long hard couple of weeks there. I'm back though and doing better. *snugs* ))

Trey gave a little bit of a grunt but couldn’t help the grin that washed over his face as Yaya launched herself at him. Acting quickly he held his arms out then wrapped them around her in a hug, lifting her feet off the ground for a moment before he eased her back down to the sidewalk.

Shaking his head he let out a little chuckle as she went about the explanation that she wasn’t actually trying to steal his bike. Leave it to Yaya though, she had to be the only person to literally physically fawn over the random bike of a stranger. There was no doubt in his mind that she could have gone so far as to lick the damn thing. Luckily it was his bike. Thus, she avoided any nasty confrontation with some big ass angry biker dude. Even though Trey was pretty sure that Yaya would have been able to bat her eyelashes, be adorable and talk her way out of pretty much any kind of trouble she found herself in.

Trey winced a little when she popped him in the shoulder then she started in on the questions. It had been a while since he’d seen her. He had kept his return to New Orleans pretty quiet. Wanting to get settled and get his shop set up, he’d been pretty busy.

“I’ve been around a little while. Not to long though. I’ve been trying to get my shop going. I just opened it a couple weeks ago. Haven’t had a lot of free time. But, I definitely need to stop by The Pit. You still working there?”

He paused for a moment and gave her a chance to reply. Letting a sly smirk play across his lips. Then he noticed that not only did she look like she was still in her pajamas and fuzzy slippers, she also had an empty coffee cup in hand.

“So… It appears that you’ve not quite had your morning coffee yet. Would you like to come inside the shop? I can get you a fresh cup and show you around. There are more bikes on display inside you can gawk at. If you’re really good, I might let you ride one of my personal ones. We could go for a ride one of these days if you want.”

He took a step back and then waved his arm in a sweeping gesture indicating the shop and showroom behind him. He nodded his head, inviting her to come with him and go inside.

[imaya]

YaYa laughed as she was picked up into the air, turning her head to give her childhood friend a smooch on the cheek. She wiped at the lip gloss stain that was left behind, and with a dramatic pout, hopped a step back. “I heard that grunt, buddy,” She said, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t make me sick a squirrel on your behind; you know I would.” A grin accompanied the false threat, and gave the bike beside her a dreamy little sigh.

Leave it to Trey Coulter to have the best ride in the county. Gah, why couldn’t her brother be into bikes like this? Marine or no, Jericho she could steal from…but Trey? Man, if he hadn’t changed, he probably had more motion sensors and alarms around his babies than Fort Knox had around its mullah.

When he started talking again, the psychic did her best to tear her eyes away from those shiny handlebars. With a snort, she raised a brow at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “’A little while’ my bootie! It takes more than a little while to have your place set up like this, you poo-poo head. You been in New Orleans, and you didn’t even come visit your extended family. That hurts, Trey. Hurts right here,” She rubbed at her chest and gave him her best puppy eyed look.

Ah, the memories that went along with that one. How many times had she gotten the guys in their little ‘family’ to do her bidding when she gave that look? Man, she did have an awesome childhood.

Her entire face practically perked up when he mentioned coffee, and before he could say another word, YaYa was shuffling inside the building. “Make that ‘let me give you a ride home,’ and you got a deal, Coulty. Ooh, and a tour! I wanna tour! I promise not to hug anymore bikes…if you let me drool around them.”

With a backwards grin, she backtracked and hooked her arm through his, letting him lead the way…while making sure that she didn’t get distracted with yet another fine specimen of speed.

“Oh, and to answer your question; nah, I ain’t working at The Pit anymore. I do psychic readings down in the Quarter and sell my handmade soaps, potions and scarves around the country. There’s also that reanimation thing that I’m working on, but you know how it is; no matter how hard you try, there’s always a dead squirrel in the gravesite.”

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