Chapter 1 Renee Yesterdays & Today
The dull roar of the jet was just enough back round noise allowing her to concentrate in quiet delight for the exciting prospects lying ahead. At the same time attempting to peruse the novel on her lap like a
rerun of her favorite movie solely to occupy her anxious energies racing mind. It was a futile attempt to not think of the challenging future coupled with acceptance of melancholy shadowing her while leaving
her father behind to remain alone in the company of his haunting ghosts. She was now a bird in flight seemingly for the first time leaving the nest. This echoed through her mind knowing that certain species
of birds mate for life, never to seek another, a noble task often ending in emptiness left to waste away, Her father was just that kind of bird.
Exhilaration of first flight had its cost; it signified an end. It was simply the natural order of life. The ring of life she thought; there could be no beginning without an end; this she knew. Beginnings are filled
with memories of the past, and memories are meant to last, indeed. And yes, hers were filled with endless unearned guilt of abandonment, unfounded of course, yet no less painful. They both were aware of
the dull ache radiating about the ring they wore, they never spoke of the slag smoldering within their emotional armor.
As she soared over the patchwork quilt below held together with unseen threads of life, seeing the last of her past slip by watching as the clouds slowly fade the massive blanket to white. Her gloom abated
and she settled back into quiet anticipation of the upcoming life, a motion quest, her solitary manifest destiny.
Her father was a stray kid out of the bowels of the ghetto leaving foster homes to work the streets in his early teens. He survived on blind faith staying out of any real trouble. Living in the streets alone,
hungry, and angry much of the time. That age was a natural magnet for menacing rage. Fortunately, he had an insulating resilience that only a good mind and kind heart that kept the underlying fury veiled.
Luckily the early 70s things were tame by today’s “cracked out” comparison. He jammed himself up a few times and was covered by a beat cop running interference, knowing this kid did not fit the picture of a
street doped hustler. The order keeper of the controlled commotion would learn that the urchin was alone, his home the cold unforgiving streets, he knew the drill. The beat cop was ten years his senior, he
would use his shield to save the kid from inflicting further wounds upon his future thus attempting to heal the scars of the past earning trust to last a life time. Sometime in 1975 on his third and last strike,
Patrolman Pitts grabbed up Randell Russell and hustled him to a Marine recruiting station in Staten Island with promise of hiring him after an honorable tour of Europe. That was provided he signed up within
60 days enabling him to quash the criminal complaint that would leave an everlasting governmental tattoo he would be powerless to erase or conceal. His four-year tour turned into an eight-year hitch, Pitts
encouraged his plan of action, which would allow Randell to move him to a position with some rank after a successful discharge.
He wore the uniform with honor and distinction, as a Marine he closed ranks on his uncertain past keeping a lid on the can of rage. The military did not want to let him go, Renee’s mother wanted out, out of
Germany and Europe and off to America. 1983 after 8 years, Lieutenant Isaiah Pitts made good the promise, which included a permanent day shift with a horse of his choice. Randell never saw himself as a
black cowboy patrolling the streets of New York. So he decided on cruising on standard issue black and white iron horse much like his vintage 57 shove head. As time went by Brother Pitts rose through the
ranks based on his commitment to his great city, he tried to pull Randell along but he knew his obligation to Renee. They were truly brothers; and they both adored the compellingly precocious Renee as their
precious jewel. On his climb, Isaiah worked the city’s weak-kneed bureaucrats; Randell just worked the city's street rats. The years went by with the two remaining family as they were truly part of a much
larger lineage that of New York Cities finest.
Ever the pragmatist seeing the white, black and the obscured gray he positioned the foundation for success in career, and in many ways as a father. It did not however carry through in husbandry, which left
a lonely ill-fated failure as a mate. He did not fail he was hardly given the chance. Randell could never understand a mother leaving her young. Where was the instinctual order of protection, the unwritten law
of nature? So when Renee was but two years of age he let her mother split to San Francisco to find her golden gates only to pass through an ominous entrance in a forgotten necropolis of self-degradation.
The underground pharmacy’s concoction swallowed her whole, with a fatal dose, a shock; the liquid jolt struck her only once from the rusty spike of heroin. Randell somehow blamed himself for lacking the
innate skills required to fill un-fill able holes in Michelle’s soul with instructions only a mother could teach, a mother he has never known. In his weakness, he could not keep Michelle but his strength would not
let her take Renee, he would simply not let his blood slip away again.
Though he might have many suitors it needed but one to scar his heart beyond the point of healing. Renee’s mother unknowingly carried her father’s spirit to her grave never to be resurrected. Renee tried to
fill his emptiness and hold together his fractured heart and to a degree, she did. He was truly a remarkable father with what implements he had in his primitive tool chest shaping and sculpting Renee into the
seemingly priceless statuary of perfection reminiscent of in an 18th century French bronze, her patina powerful and breathtaking.
She wondered how it was that the bi-racial makeup could leave her weak and strong simultaneously, she knew she possessed an exotic allure and a sultry beauty that many of her breed exhibited.
Bewildering to her was how the striking good looks could exile her as an untouchable. Could she be so drop dead gorgeous as to frighten people off? Yes, so she relied on herself to need no one, to maintain
the well-ordered upbringing with the regimented steel trapped mind that brought her to this lonely place. Dad had insisted on precision and dispassionate clarity to harden Renee. Thou he tempered steel
cold logic to her structured upbringing, he also supplied what the life giving warm adoring affection he could, nevertheless the latter held sway insuring an iron clad mind, however from time to time tiny hints
of unmistakable isolation bled through the otherwise impenetrable veneer.
As a single father of the extraordinary daughter, it was his obligation to do without so he sacrificed a great deal in underwriting her success. She knew he was protective but he often took it to the extreme,
often shielding her from a normal childhood. How could it ever be normal without a mother, no family other than Uncle Issy and their extended family of the men and women in blue? She was awed by their
camaraderie and oneness, fascinated by their badges and weaponry. Uniformity was always a big part of their life. Her dad exchanged uniforms from the United States Marines to New York’s finest. He then
retired with a gold shield to pursue real money in a high dollar private Wall Street security firm thus permitting Renee to follow educations career highway onto Colombia University’s criminal justice degree,
following it up with a coveted law degree subsequently staying in the footsteps into the shadows of her father. It was fitting.
If anyone ever viewed her bedroom she thought it would appear that a little boy slept there with toy fire trucks, police cars, motorcycles, Rambo posters, plastic guns, nothing feminine here. Dad wanted a
son, so here I am his seemingly delicate flower able to protect myself far better than most men. She was pleased he was firm on martial arts training to bridge any defensive gap. He was tough as nails, a
quiet man yet soundly defeated. Therefore, he retreated in the role of father and mentor, not necessarily in that order. He structured her life with well thought-out with never-ending lessons of life, a bit
paradoxical in that his was so unfulfilled. He always said that life will have hurtles caused by ignorance, stupidity and fear adding “Life it is a chess game and knowing when to swing and duck is essential to
survive and succeed”. He conversed with her as if she were indeed a son, he had to he was terrified of her beauty fearing she could be a target much like her mother and he was right to do so.
He never liked to talk about her mother it was another lash from her memories whip, his open wounds to never heal. Growing up other kids were not too sure if Renee was Italian, Spanish, or Indian, clearly
exotic also clear that she did no fit in. Dad insisted that I had to look better than my peers so he dressed me like a prep school yuppie further confusing her issues. She is tall enough 5’ 7 not so lily white.
Meet Joe Black, it would be nice if it were so, that silly soul mate crap, not for me. This was the facade she provided to protect her sentimental side; she loved those serendipitous saga’s that in the end live
happily ever after. Her cynical side knew otherwise. Dad saw to that, the son he wanted, never to be at least Renee would be prepared no matter what, no matter where even going so far as to get her
training and her own Harley Sportster at 17. So he directed my life and yes I am grateful she thought as she drifted from the book and back to reality of the task ahead. A charge that demanded a unique
toughness that her very life could depend, unlike the plush feminine peripheral she conveyed to no one. When can I let my guard down she thinks, He even tells me how to wear my hair. This is a good move
away from the puppet master, he cannot manipulate my strings from NYC.
She peered out the window daydreaming…… Brad Pitt could he play John Galt? Absolutely she thought and me Dagny Taggart, Right… He just did not want to let me go. Its not his choice this time, new
assignment lip stick lesbian, dikes on bikes in Daytona Beach sun, sand and surf and of course work under cover, covert Cleopatra, Spy Vs. Spy she pinched herself….. Back and forth inside her racing head
from dad and back to the here and now. He is going to freak when he sees this butch cut. Six to 12 month assignment, this is work how can that be? Power awaits this lipstick queen. She went back to the
book, oh how she loved the men back then sort of like dad, she thought real men. Such a paradox she loved her father and yet she hated the never ending lectures. Secretly he is proud I know who wouldn’t
be, all his special training paying big dividends, jump-start to Home Land Security Counter Terrorism. She passed all that tedious bookwork thanks to dad’s persistence of learning these strange seeming
backward languages of Ali Baba and the forty thieves. Funny the child’s tale is now tucked away since the day of lost souls that nearly tore the big apple off the planet. Her father and she both agreed the
aim on that dark day in New York was not some three thousand blameless lives that by the grace of God fifty thousand per tower were spared. She knew the totality, their end game, she knew how many
thousands wear the horror and will forever pick un-heal able scabs for many years to come. Dad would be even more focused knowing plots were simmering in the sinister desert crock-pot. He supported my
calling he had always quoted the figure of speech “if you are not part of the solution you are part of the problem.” Ever since she could remember he would always send mixed signals, he could not let go of
the past that was preventing him from having a future. She learned much in her psychology classes she could now understand his rationale. He kept a protective wall surrounding her, thus allowing her to
enter womanhood un-scarred with the ability to handle the challenges when she was emotionally prepared, he again was spot on.
Funny she thought, the book that helped shape her life was overflowing with lost logic. She tried to cast the parts in her mind. Francisco Di Anconia, George Clooney a bit too old she wanted to cast the movie
that the whacko lefties in Hollywood will never make Mel Gibson of course she wanted to shout perfect Hank Reardon Mel could produce and star, Andy Garcia, maybe….. Sigourney Weaver perfect if she were
10 years younger…. John Galt ( Brad the Pitts ) she daydreamed and Angelina, Joelie, Dagny, maybe……Perfect if she were not so curvy. It was compulsory reading this classic novel about life, love, failure,
and triumph. He wanted to name me after her but could not quite make the stretch, “Dagny,” so he named me Renee after her side. She is exotically beautiful but she never quite fit in emerging into the
mysterious creature she struggled to be. Therefore, with dads persistence she buried herself in books from around the world and so other languages intrigued her. French, Arabic and perfect English came to
her rhythmically of a perfect orchestral melody leaving her perfectly suited for this assignment.
The Captains voice reverberated to inform the passengers of the ETA giving her enough time to go over her itinerary and set up her new staging area for her welcomed assignment. She pictured in her minds
eye her new surroundings as her Internet coming attractions filed. She glanced out to the compelling aquamarine blue ocean quietly excited at the prospects of a week off from the grueling training and of
course; her totally new scripted life style. She had much to accomplish on her generous stipend compliments of her other rich uncle, Sam, Some fun.... Shopping at government expense from transportation to
wardrobe and post grad education unnn beee-lievable….
Daytona Harley Davidson would be her second stop to rent a Softail... After dropping her bags at the Ponce Inlet beach front condominium. She would begin her covert ruse getting familiar with the lay of the
land on the business end of a Harley hog.....
Buckling in for the final approach and taking in the picture perfect ocean descending effortlessly on the glide path to kiss the ground of a seemingly deserted Daytona Beach International Airport.
Later she would be mystified at the laid back resort relative to the preconceived reputation of wild and crazy party town of “The Worlds Most Famous Beach” She was prepared for the transformation, most
of the business end was handled. Although she’d never been to Daytona she liked what she saw thanks to the Bill Gates & Mr Jobs.
Preparation aside settling in would be a blast. Daytona was an event town hence her mission. Her old wardrobe Classy City Cosmo mothballed for the foreseeable future in place a raunchy Biker Babe was
looking better and better. She could hardly believe the assignment; she sold her way around a slew of hungry competition. She earned it thanks to Dad as he would evade the ubiquitous cabbie’s, navigating
the chess board of the insane streets of the Big Apple with her on the back of his chromed crimson Electra Glide for all those years. That’s how she got the bug. He would drum into her “Be tough, fear,
nothing, and know Your limitations.”, He sounded like Clint Eastwood. He insisted on formal motorcycle training from his friend at the academy. He would remind me of the famous quote “ The two greatest sin
from which all others spring are laziness and impatience ”Kafka". Sadly his best illustration was the woeful inadequate experience of the late John F Kennedy Jr.. Power and instrumentation required skilled
training, testing, and above all common sense coupled with the knowledge to know the difference between balls and brains. Dad was again spot on; it was tough arguing with him he was always right. He
was also pleased to be able to vacation in the off season having endured many nasty cold rainy Daytona Beach “Bikeweeks” so the idea of choosing his visits weather permitting was just the ticket to dig him
out the doldrums unending emptiness can bring.
To complete the covert commando lipstick lezbo she had to spend both time and money something she was not accustomed to do with such frivolity, she would adapt and improvise she grinned to herself.
She would be trading up from the Sportster to the big dog league. Ten grand budget for a fitting cycle could purchase a bunch of bang for the buck. The time machine was a double-edged sword. As many of
her more seasoned counter parts attempted unsuccessfully in holding onto the grueling image of a hardcore biker babe extending life with the thrills of danger keeping the blood of life beating to the sound
of the power plant. The other edge accelerated the epidermis’s ageing process, whipped by weather beating bashing could be defeated by vanity so as a result some bargains to be had. Function over form
was first priority, ideally an expensive $40,000 plus one of a kind custom chopper with her mounting the dazzling provocative iron horse clad in black leather with red stiletto heeled spurs cherry topped the
sexy power packed mass of two wheeled thunder would have to wait a bit as stealth was the order of the day.
However as many of her more seasoned sisters attempted often unsuccessfully in holding onto the grueling image of a hardcore biker babe they were defeated by vanity. The constant weather beating
accelerated the skins ageing process adding wrinkles seemingly over night. Consequently, the faint of heart offered up some tremendous bargains. Function over form was first priority. Ideally, an expensive
one of a kind custom chopper with her mounting the dazzling provocative iron horse clad in skin tight black leather, red stiletto heeled spurs, cherry topping the sexy power packed mass of two wheeled
thunder a bright red silk do-rag. She may just have to wait a bit, as money and stealth are the order of the day.
Her Internet investigations left her limitless options in the ten thousand range. It was now just a matter of the final inspection to gauge the integrity of her contacts with regard to condition and to wave
some cash to whet the seller’s appetites need to sell. She welcomed the sport of “Its all about Renee”. The “A” list she narrowed to eight factoring in some of the emailed jpegs were a bit grainy. She vowed
not to get overly excited, it pained her to err when it came to money. Her goal real or imagined was ninety-five hundred unless she took her fathers recommendation to go a bit more for the coveted fuel
injected Road King. She knew $9500.00 would not get within a country mile of one. All was depending on the degree of negotiation and her willingness to go "hog wild" investing up to $12,000.00 or perhaps
a bit more. To keep up with the big Dogs her father said he’d kick in to bridge the gap; she was a bit overcome. He said your comfort is all-important but your life could depend on the right choice so get what
you want.
Three of the eight were leased standard issue black and white police specials low mileage under twenty K. These buy backs put her near enough in the afford ability range to nail her target zone at maybe a
bit under $11,000.00. These said her father should be exactly like his so there would be no learning curve to adjust and maintenance recorded for reliability. Most knew one had to be on the laws inside track
to get in on those sweetheart deals and she was concerned to expose herself to unneeded questions. Her father called in a few markers allowing her to take her pick, but agreed that it could red flag her
around town.
All things considered with money relatively no object she eyed Two Fatboys, one black, one red and one custom painted Road King sporting a black panther with gold piercing eyes lowered with tons of
blinding chrome. The last was customized for one of Daytona’s richest plastic surgeons wannabe wife. Mrs. Stein road it a dozen or more times up and down main street realizing it was not her thing after her
facial investment started glowing in the dark and the botox shots started hardening from the sun. Real or imagined. The good doctor Frank N Stein confided in Renee admitting he knew it to be much worse.
He said for that malady she suffering would require another kind of doctor with meds not to be found in his medicine bag of tricks reading, her medication read “Medication may cause drowsiness or
dizziness”. Oddly enough he said he did not want to let any of their friends know the bike would be on the market, he said a quick cash deal would steal it rather than lose a friend in a pissing match over the
twenty-five thousand plus toy. The choices were pretty much wide open in the unofficial Harley capital of the world. She would heed her father’s advice and ultimately rent one or two before cashing out
anywhere between $16.00 to $19.00 per pound for a decent cut for any iron horse.
She had a week to rest and secure the ruse and make the transformation and blend in as to not attract attention from her formally Cosmo professional facade, preparation was critical in her successful climb
up the latter of independence, she was on her way.
The dull roar of the jet was just enough back round noise allowing her to concentrate in quiet delight for the exciting prospects lying ahead. At the same time attempting to peruse the novel on her lap like a
rerun of her favorite movie solely to occupy her anxious energies racing mind. It was a futile attempt to not think of the challenging future coupled with acceptance of melancholy shadowing her while leaving
her father behind to remain alone in the company of his haunting ghosts. She was now a bird in flight seemingly for the first time leaving the nest. This echoed through her mind knowing that certain species
of birds mate for life, never to seek another, a noble task often ending in emptiness left to waste away, Her father was just that kind of bird.
Exhilaration of first flight had its cost; it signified an end. It was simply the natural order of life. The ring of life she thought; there could be no beginning without an end; this she knew. Beginnings are filled
with memories of the past, and memories are meant to last, indeed. And yes, hers were filled with endless unearned guilt of abandonment, unfounded of course, yet no less painful. They both were aware of
the dull ache radiating about the ring they wore, they never spoke of the slag smoldering within their emotional armor.
As she soared over the patchwork quilt below held together with unseen threads of life, seeing the last of her past slip by watching as the clouds slowly fade the massive blanket to white. Her gloom abated
and she settled back into quiet anticipation of the upcoming life, a motion quest, her solitary manifest destiny.
Her father was a stray kid out of the bowels of the ghetto leaving foster homes to work the streets in his early teens. He survived on blind faith staying out of any real trouble. Living in the streets alone,
hungry, and angry much of the time. That age was a natural magnet for menacing rage. Fortunately, he had an insulating resilience that only a good mind and kind heart that kept the underlying fury veiled.
Luckily the early 70s things were tame by today’s “cracked out” comparison. He jammed himself up a few times and was covered by a beat cop running interference, knowing this kid did not fit the picture of a
street doped hustler. The order keeper of the controlled commotion would learn that the urchin was alone, his home the cold unforgiving streets, he knew the drill. The beat cop was ten years his senior, he
would use his shield to save the kid from inflicting further wounds upon his future thus attempting to heal the scars of the past earning trust to last a life time. Sometime in 1975 on his third and last strike,
Patrolman Pitts grabbed up Randell Russell and hustled him to a Marine recruiting station in Staten Island with promise of hiring him after an honorable tour of Europe. That was provided he signed up within
60 days enabling him to quash the criminal complaint that would leave an everlasting governmental tattoo he would be powerless to erase or conceal. His four-year tour turned into an eight-year hitch, Pitts
encouraged his plan of action, which would allow Randell to move him to a position with some rank after a successful discharge.
He wore the uniform with honor and distinction, as a Marine he closed ranks on his uncertain past keeping a lid on the can of rage. The military did not want to let him go, Renee’s mother wanted out, out of
Germany and Europe and off to America. 1983 after 8 years, Lieutenant Isaiah Pitts made good the promise, which included a permanent day shift with a horse of his choice. Randell never saw himself as a
black cowboy patrolling the streets of New York. So he decided on cruising on standard issue black and white iron horse much like his vintage 57 shove head. As time went by Brother Pitts rose through the
ranks based on his commitment to his great city, he tried to pull Randell along but he knew his obligation to Renee. They were truly brothers; and they both adored the compellingly precocious Renee as their
precious jewel. On his climb, Isaiah worked the city’s weak-kneed bureaucrats; Randell just worked the city's street rats. The years went by with the two remaining family as they were truly part of a much
larger lineage that of New York Cities finest.
Ever the pragmatist seeing the white, black and the obscured gray he positioned the foundation for success in career, and in many ways as a father. It did not however carry through in husbandry, which left
a lonely ill-fated failure as a mate. He did not fail he was hardly given the chance. Randell could never understand a mother leaving her young. Where was the instinctual order of protection, the unwritten law
of nature? So when Renee was but two years of age he let her mother split to San Francisco to find her golden gates only to pass through an ominous entrance in a forgotten necropolis of self-degradation.
The underground pharmacy’s concoction swallowed her whole, with a fatal dose, a shock; the liquid jolt struck her only once from the rusty spike of heroin. Randell somehow blamed himself for lacking the
innate skills required to fill un-fill able holes in Michelle’s soul with instructions only a mother could teach, a mother he has never known. In his weakness, he could not keep Michelle but his strength would not
let her take Renee, he would simply not let his blood slip away again.
Though he might have many suitors it needed but one to scar his heart beyond the point of healing. Renee’s mother unknowingly carried her father’s spirit to her grave never to be resurrected. Renee tried to
fill his emptiness and hold together his fractured heart and to a degree, she did. He was truly a remarkable father with what implements he had in his primitive tool chest shaping and sculpting Renee into the
seemingly priceless statuary of perfection reminiscent of in an 18th century French bronze, her patina powerful and breathtaking.
She wondered how it was that the bi-racial makeup could leave her weak and strong simultaneously, she knew she possessed an exotic allure and a sultry beauty that many of her breed exhibited.
Bewildering to her was how the striking good looks could exile her as an untouchable. Could she be so drop dead gorgeous as to frighten people off? Yes, so she relied on herself to need no one, to maintain
the well-ordered upbringing with the regimented steel trapped mind that brought her to this lonely place. Dad had insisted on precision and dispassionate clarity to harden Renee. Thou he tempered steel
cold logic to her structured upbringing, he also supplied what the life giving warm adoring affection he could, nevertheless the latter held sway insuring an iron clad mind, however from time to time tiny hints
of unmistakable isolation bled through the otherwise impenetrable veneer.
As a single father of the extraordinary daughter, it was his obligation to do without so he sacrificed a great deal in underwriting her success. She knew he was protective but he often took it to the extreme,
often shielding her from a normal childhood. How could it ever be normal without a mother, no family other than Uncle Issy and their extended family of the men and women in blue? She was awed by their
camaraderie and oneness, fascinated by their badges and weaponry. Uniformity was always a big part of their life. Her dad exchanged uniforms from the United States Marines to New York’s finest. He then
retired with a gold shield to pursue real money in a high dollar private Wall Street security firm thus permitting Renee to follow educations career highway onto Colombia University’s criminal justice degree,
following it up with a coveted law degree subsequently staying in the footsteps into the shadows of her father. It was fitting.
If anyone ever viewed her bedroom she thought it would appear that a little boy slept there with toy fire trucks, police cars, motorcycles, Rambo posters, plastic guns, nothing feminine here. Dad wanted a
son, so here I am his seemingly delicate flower able to protect myself far better than most men. She was pleased he was firm on martial arts training to bridge any defensive gap. He was tough as nails, a
quiet man yet soundly defeated. Therefore, he retreated in the role of father and mentor, not necessarily in that order. He structured her life with well thought-out with never-ending lessons of life, a bit
paradoxical in that his was so unfulfilled. He always said that life will have hurtles caused by ignorance, stupidity and fear adding “Life it is a chess game and knowing when to swing and duck is essential to
survive and succeed”. He conversed with her as if she were indeed a son, he had to he was terrified of her beauty fearing she could be a target much like her mother and he was right to do so.
He never liked to talk about her mother it was another lash from her memories whip, his open wounds to never heal. Growing up other kids were not too sure if Renee was Italian, Spanish, or Indian, clearly
exotic also clear that she did no fit in. Dad insisted that I had to look better than my peers so he dressed me like a prep school yuppie further confusing her issues. She is tall enough 5’ 7 not so lily white.
Meet Joe Black, it would be nice if it were so, that silly soul mate crap, not for me. This was the facade she provided to protect her sentimental side; she loved those serendipitous saga’s that in the end live
happily ever after. Her cynical side knew otherwise. Dad saw to that, the son he wanted, never to be at least Renee would be prepared no matter what, no matter where even going so far as to get her
training and her own Harley Sportster at 17. So he directed my life and yes I am grateful she thought as she drifted from the book and back to reality of the task ahead. A charge that demanded a unique
toughness that her very life could depend, unlike the plush feminine peripheral she conveyed to no one. When can I let my guard down she thinks, He even tells me how to wear my hair. This is a good move
away from the puppet master, he cannot manipulate my strings from NYC.
She peered out the window daydreaming…… Brad Pitt could he play John Galt? Absolutely she thought and me Dagny Taggart, Right… He just did not want to let me go. Its not his choice this time, new
assignment lip stick lesbian, dikes on bikes in Daytona Beach sun, sand and surf and of course work under cover, covert Cleopatra, Spy Vs. Spy she pinched herself….. Back and forth inside her racing head
from dad and back to the here and now. He is going to freak when he sees this butch cut. Six to 12 month assignment, this is work how can that be? Power awaits this lipstick queen. She went back to the
book, oh how she loved the men back then sort of like dad, she thought real men. Such a paradox she loved her father and yet she hated the never ending lectures. Secretly he is proud I know who wouldn’t
be, all his special training paying big dividends, jump-start to Home Land Security Counter Terrorism. She passed all that tedious bookwork thanks to dad’s persistence of learning these strange seeming
backward languages of Ali Baba and the forty thieves. Funny the child’s tale is now tucked away since the day of lost souls that nearly tore the big apple off the planet. Her father and she both agreed the
aim on that dark day in New York was not some three thousand blameless lives that by the grace of God fifty thousand per tower were spared. She knew the totality, their end game, she knew how many
thousands wear the horror and will forever pick un-heal able scabs for many years to come. Dad would be even more focused knowing plots were simmering in the sinister desert crock-pot. He supported my
calling he had always quoted the figure of speech “if you are not part of the solution you are part of the problem.” Ever since she could remember he would always send mixed signals, he could not let go of
the past that was preventing him from having a future. She learned much in her psychology classes she could now understand his rationale. He kept a protective wall surrounding her, thus allowing her to
enter womanhood un-scarred with the ability to handle the challenges when she was emotionally prepared, he again was spot on.
Funny she thought, the book that helped shape her life was overflowing with lost logic. She tried to cast the parts in her mind. Francisco Di Anconia, George Clooney a bit too old she wanted to cast the movie
that the whacko lefties in Hollywood will never make Mel Gibson of course she wanted to shout perfect Hank Reardon Mel could produce and star, Andy Garcia, maybe….. Sigourney Weaver perfect if she were
10 years younger…. John Galt ( Brad the Pitts ) she daydreamed and Angelina, Joelie, Dagny, maybe……Perfect if she were not so curvy. It was compulsory reading this classic novel about life, love, failure,
and triumph. He wanted to name me after her but could not quite make the stretch, “Dagny,” so he named me Renee after her side. She is exotically beautiful but she never quite fit in emerging into the
mysterious creature she struggled to be. Therefore, with dads persistence she buried herself in books from around the world and so other languages intrigued her. French, Arabic and perfect English came to
her rhythmically of a perfect orchestral melody leaving her perfectly suited for this assignment.
The Captains voice reverberated to inform the passengers of the ETA giving her enough time to go over her itinerary and set up her new staging area for her welcomed assignment. She pictured in her minds
eye her new surroundings as her Internet coming attractions filed. She glanced out to the compelling aquamarine blue ocean quietly excited at the prospects of a week off from the grueling training and of
course; her totally new scripted life style. She had much to accomplish on her generous stipend compliments of her other rich uncle, Sam, Some fun.... Shopping at government expense from transportation to
wardrobe and post grad education unnn beee-lievable….
Daytona Harley Davidson would be her second stop to rent a Softail... After dropping her bags at the Ponce Inlet beach front condominium. She would begin her covert ruse getting familiar with the lay of the
land on the business end of a Harley hog.....
Buckling in for the final approach and taking in the picture perfect ocean descending effortlessly on the glide path to kiss the ground of a seemingly deserted Daytona Beach International Airport.
Later she would be mystified at the laid back resort relative to the preconceived reputation of wild and crazy party town of “The Worlds Most Famous Beach” She was prepared for the transformation, most
of the business end was handled. Although she’d never been to Daytona she liked what she saw thanks to the Bill Gates & Mr Jobs.
Preparation aside settling in would be a blast. Daytona was an event town hence her mission. Her old wardrobe Classy City Cosmo mothballed for the foreseeable future in place a raunchy Biker Babe was
looking better and better. She could hardly believe the assignment; she sold her way around a slew of hungry competition. She earned it thanks to Dad as he would evade the ubiquitous cabbie’s, navigating
the chess board of the insane streets of the Big Apple with her on the back of his chromed crimson Electra Glide for all those years. That’s how she got the bug. He would drum into her “Be tough, fear,
nothing, and know Your limitations.”, He sounded like Clint Eastwood. He insisted on formal motorcycle training from his friend at the academy. He would remind me of the famous quote “ The two greatest sin
from which all others spring are laziness and impatience ”Kafka". Sadly his best illustration was the woeful inadequate experience of the late John F Kennedy Jr.. Power and instrumentation required skilled
training, testing, and above all common sense coupled with the knowledge to know the difference between balls and brains. Dad was again spot on; it was tough arguing with him he was always right. He
was also pleased to be able to vacation in the off season having endured many nasty cold rainy Daytona Beach “Bikeweeks” so the idea of choosing his visits weather permitting was just the ticket to dig him
out the doldrums unending emptiness can bring.
To complete the covert commando lipstick lezbo she had to spend both time and money something she was not accustomed to do with such frivolity, she would adapt and improvise she grinned to herself.
She would be trading up from the Sportster to the big dog league. Ten grand budget for a fitting cycle could purchase a bunch of bang for the buck. The time machine was a double-edged sword. As many of
her more seasoned counter parts attempted unsuccessfully in holding onto the grueling image of a hardcore biker babe extending life with the thrills of danger keeping the blood of life beating to the sound
of the power plant. The other edge accelerated the epidermis’s ageing process, whipped by weather beating bashing could be defeated by vanity so as a result some bargains to be had. Function over form
was first priority, ideally an expensive $40,000 plus one of a kind custom chopper with her mounting the dazzling provocative iron horse clad in black leather with red stiletto heeled spurs cherry topped the
sexy power packed mass of two wheeled thunder would have to wait a bit as stealth was the order of the day.
However as many of her more seasoned sisters attempted often unsuccessfully in holding onto the grueling image of a hardcore biker babe they were defeated by vanity. The constant weather beating
accelerated the skins ageing process adding wrinkles seemingly over night. Consequently, the faint of heart offered up some tremendous bargains. Function over form was first priority. Ideally, an expensive
one of a kind custom chopper with her mounting the dazzling provocative iron horse clad in skin tight black leather, red stiletto heeled spurs, cherry topping the sexy power packed mass of two wheeled
thunder a bright red silk do-rag. She may just have to wait a bit, as money and stealth are the order of the day.
Her Internet investigations left her limitless options in the ten thousand range. It was now just a matter of the final inspection to gauge the integrity of her contacts with regard to condition and to wave
some cash to whet the seller’s appetites need to sell. She welcomed the sport of “Its all about Renee”. The “A” list she narrowed to eight factoring in some of the emailed jpegs were a bit grainy. She vowed
not to get overly excited, it pained her to err when it came to money. Her goal real or imagined was ninety-five hundred unless she took her fathers recommendation to go a bit more for the coveted fuel
injected Road King. She knew $9500.00 would not get within a country mile of one. All was depending on the degree of negotiation and her willingness to go "hog wild" investing up to $12,000.00 or perhaps
a bit more. To keep up with the big Dogs her father said he’d kick in to bridge the gap; she was a bit overcome. He said your comfort is all-important but your life could depend on the right choice so get what
you want.
Three of the eight were leased standard issue black and white police specials low mileage under twenty K. These buy backs put her near enough in the afford ability range to nail her target zone at maybe a
bit under $11,000.00. These said her father should be exactly like his so there would be no learning curve to adjust and maintenance recorded for reliability. Most knew one had to be on the laws inside track
to get in on those sweetheart deals and she was concerned to expose herself to unneeded questions. Her father called in a few markers allowing her to take her pick, but agreed that it could red flag her
around town.
All things considered with money relatively no object she eyed Two Fatboys, one black, one red and one custom painted Road King sporting a black panther with gold piercing eyes lowered with tons of
blinding chrome. The last was customized for one of Daytona’s richest plastic surgeons wannabe wife. Mrs. Stein road it a dozen or more times up and down main street realizing it was not her thing after her
facial investment started glowing in the dark and the botox shots started hardening from the sun. Real or imagined. The good doctor Frank N Stein confided in Renee admitting he knew it to be much worse.
He said for that malady she suffering would require another kind of doctor with meds not to be found in his medicine bag of tricks reading, her medication read “Medication may cause drowsiness or
dizziness”. Oddly enough he said he did not want to let any of their friends know the bike would be on the market, he said a quick cash deal would steal it rather than lose a friend in a pissing match over the
twenty-five thousand plus toy. The choices were pretty much wide open in the unofficial Harley capital of the world. She would heed her father’s advice and ultimately rent one or two before cashing out
anywhere between $16.00 to $19.00 per pound for a decent cut for any iron horse.
She had a week to rest and secure the ruse and make the transformation and blend in as to not attract attention from her formally Cosmo professional facade, preparation was critical in her successful climb
up the latter of independence, she was on her way.
Renee
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