First lesson
927 Words
*Chapter 10: First Lesson*
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The tavern didn’t open until 11.
At 9 AM, the blue gate was closed. Mandla was gone. Only tire marks left in the dirt where he’d kneeled.
Marcus rolled the second bike out from under the tarp. Matte black. Older than his, but clean. Like he’d been keeping it ready.
“For you,” he said. No ceremony. Just fact. “My dad’s. He taught me on this one.”
Nonhlanhla stared at it. “I’ve never—”
“I know.” He handed her a helmet. Pink. New. “That’s why it’s a lesson.”
She took it. “You bought this?”
“Yesterday. After you hired me.” He shrugged. “Manager’s budget.”
Her throat got tight. R2,500 hands. Counting slices. And now a pink helmet because he thought she might want to ride.
He swung a leg over his bike. “First rule: You don’t touch the bike. The bike touches you.”
“That’s not a rule.”
“It is now.” He kicked the stand up. “Get on. Behind me first. Feel it before you drive it.”
She did. Arms around his waist again. Less tentative this time. Her chest against his back. His t-shirt was warm from the sun.
“Hold tighter, My Love,” he said. “I don’t drive past people. But I also don’t drive slow when they’re holding on like they’re scared of me.”
She tightened her arms.
The bike rumbled to life. They pulled out of the blue gate. Slow through town. People stared. The helper girl on the back of the biker’s bike. The girl who burned R20,000.
He didn’t take her to the main road. He took her to the dam. Empty on a Tuesday morning. Just water and sky and red dirt.
He stopped. Cut the engine. “Off.”
She slid off. Legs buzzing.
“Your turn.” He nodded to her dad’s bike. “Key’s in.”
Nonhlanhla’s hands shook. Not fear. Something else. “I don’t know how—”
“I do.” He stood behind her. Not touching. Just close. “Left hand, clutch. Right hand, front brake. Foot, gear. You drop it, we pick it up. You stall, we start again. You fall, I catch you.”
“You promise?”
“Every time,” he said. “That’s the second rule.”
She threw her leg over. The bike was heavy between her thighs. Real. Hers.
“Clutch in,” he said, voice at her ear. “Now ignition.”
The bike roared. She flinched.
“I’ve got you,” Marcus said. His hands hovered near her waist. Not holding. Ready. “Now easy. Feet up. Look where you want to go, not where you’re scared of falling.”
She looked at the water. At the sky. At the open road.
Then she looked at him. Over her shoulder.
“Where I want to go,” she said, “is forward.”
His jaw ticked. “Then go, My Love.”
She eased the clutch.
The bike jerked. Stalled.
She didn’t fall. Because his hands were there. On her waist. Solid. Holding her up. Holding the bike up.
“Told you,” he breathed. His chest against her back. “I catch you.”
She turned in his arms. Just her head. Their faces inches apart. She could count his eyelashes. Smell coffee and soap and bike grease.
“Again,” she said.
He let go. Stepped back. “Again.”
This time she didn’t stall.
She went ten meters. Wobbly. Terrified. Laughing.
She went twenty.
She went until the dam was a blur and the wind was in her teeth and Marcus was running beside her, hand on the back of her shirt, keeping her steady, shouting, “That’s it! That’s it, My Love! Look at you go!”
She stopped. Both feet down. Breathing hard. Grinning so wide it hurt.
Marcus doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing. “You’re a natural disaster on that thing.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s a compliment.” He straightened up. Walked to her. Pulled her helmet off. His fingers brushed her cheek. “You’re not the girl walking in the rain anymore.”
“No,” she said. “I’m the girl driving.”
His eyes dropped to her mouth. For one second. Then back up. “Third rule,” he said, voice rough. “Manager doesn’t kiss the boss during work hours.”
“Is this work hours?”
“Tavern opens at 11.” He checked his watch. “It’s 10:17.”
She swallowed. “And after 11?”
He stepped back. Picked up her helmet. Handed it to her. “After 11, the boss makes the rules.”
The bell at the tavern jingled in the distance. Her aunt, opening up.
“Come on, My Love,” Marcus said, getting on his bike. “We’ve got a tavern to run. And I’ve got a manager’s shift.”
Nonhlanhla put the helmet on. Threw her leg over her dad’s bike.
For the first time in her life, she wasn’t following anyone.
She was leading.
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“He taught her to ride and said ‘I catch you’”
“She said ‘I’m not walking anymore. I’m driving.’”
Ch 10 of _Broken Chain_ — THE BIKE SCENE 💀 #MyLove #R2500Girl #FirstRide #BookTokSA
Ch 11: First kiss after 11? Or Mandla’s wife returns to the tavern? What chaos do we want next?
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