Free Imitation by Heather Hildenbrand

to his. The motorcycle tips
effortlessly and then rights itself again as the road straightens.
It’s pure magic.
    The speedometer tips eighty and I’m
not sure I wouldn’t blow away if I let go. It’s a thrill; death is
rushing by me six inches from my toes with nothing separating me
from it except my grip on Linc’s midsection. I tighten my arms and
grin wider.
    The turns are scariest, the way we
lean and the speeds with which we take them. Each time, we come
closer to getting parallel with the pavement. It’s thrilling and
terrifying all at once. I squeeze Linc’s ribs, giving away the
delicious anxiety that grips me so hard I’m gasping in my helmet. I
don’t think he can hear my intake of breath or little cries of
panic, but I’m not certain. He pats my hand as the curve
straightens out and I know we’re grinning together now.
    All too soon, the road gives way to
warehouses, then businesses, closed and boarded and littered with
dirty sidewalks, trash, sleeping bodies. I caught glimpses in the
car the other day, but this view is different. I can see it all, no
tinted windows to paint it less horrifying.
    We pass a stumbling man and have to
swerve to keep from running him over. He doesn’t even jump back. I
wonder if he’s aware we are there at all. Children play with some
red-eyed animal that hovers behind an overturned dumpster. Their
clothes are ragged and dirty, even in the darkness. Through the
filter of my helmet, the air is stale and sullied.
    I want him to drive faster and get me
gone from this place. It reeks of filth and of wanting and makes
the inside of my skin ache for these people who have so little when
I suddenly have so much.
    In a few moments, the warehouses with
shattered windows and boarded doorways give way to moderate
apartments and then slowly, it all fades into the glitter of
uptown.
    Linc lets me off in front of the
revolving doors of Rogen Tower. I slide off, mindful of where the
fabric of my dress has ridden up. My legs are tingling from cold
and the leftover rush. After my fumbling fingers release the snap,
I slide the helmet over my head and hand it back to him. He flips
the visor up on his helmet, revealing the top half of his face. He
looks sorry, though for what, I’m not sure.
    “ Thanks for the
ride.”
    “ I hope you don’t mind I
took the long way home.”
    “ Not at all. That was
amazing.”
    He grins. “I’m glad you liked it. I’ll
see you later.”
    “ You’re not coming
up?”
    He shakes his head. “I’ll be back in
the morning. You better get going. Gus is waiting in the
lobby.”
    At his nod, I twist around and catch
sight of Gus watching us from the other side of the glass. I am not
sure but I feel like I’m in trouble, though surviving is my only
crime.
    When I turn back, it’s to the sound of
the bike’s engine revving. “Bye,” I say, but I doubt Linc hears me.
He’s already pulling into the flow of traffic and speeding
off.
    Gus is unsmiling but silent as he
escorts me upstairs. By the time the elevator dings for the
penthouse, I think maybe I’ve avoided the inevitable. But the first
thing I see when the doors open is Titus. His demeanor shifts at
the sight of me and I think the brick wall I hit earlier wasn’t
nearly as impenetrable.
    “ Raven,” he
says.
    Gus nudges me from behind, driving me
forward, and Titus steps in front of me, blocking my
path.
    “ Care to explain what
happened?” he asks.
    “ Someone came after me.
Linc stopped him,” I say, doing my best to hold his stare. I can
feel my chin jut forward, a trait I learned from Lonnie, and I hope
it makes me look fearless.
    He takes a step toward me and my
shoulders go rigid. “Do not think for one second that I don’t know
what sort of nonsense had you up on that roof tonight,” he
says.
    “ I don’t know what
you—”
    Without warning, his hand flies across
my cheek and I am driven back. My shoulders hit the wall first and
then the back of my head. I wince as my headache