Chapter 1 Renee Yesterdays & Today
The dull roar of the jet was just enough back round noise to allow 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 of 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, particularly
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
government 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 dirty 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 Isy and their
extended family of the men and women in blue? She was awed by their camaraderie
and oneness, fascinated by their badges and weapons. 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 to 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 shook 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…. Uma Thurman, a bit too tall for 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 they 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 Road King 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 seat of a 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.
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 fearing 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 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 to allow 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 of 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, particularly
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
government 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 dirty 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 Isy and their
extended family of the men and women in blue? She was awed by their camaraderie
and oneness, fascinated by their badges and weapons. 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 to 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 shook 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…. Uma Thurman, a bit too tall for 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 they 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 Road King 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 seat of a 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.
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 fearing 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 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.
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Renee