On the other side of the tracks (closed)

TertiusHuman

Broken Panda
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Name: Dale McAndrews
Age: 25
Height: 5'9"

Dale grew up in a household which had one rule, you want something, you fight for it. Of his two brothers, one older, one younger, he proved to be the toughest. Never loud, but willing to take on a group of people bare handed. The only weakness he did show was towards his younger sister, never spoiling her, but helping her when he could.

His school record is filled with reports of his expulsion from various institutes due to fighting. His criminal record stated as much as well, various arrests for assault and battery, usually at clubs.

The reason for the McAndrews family to act this way towards the world lay in the roots of their family which stretched back three generations when their much loved and respected matriarch, Dave's great grandmother, were falsely accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake.
 
Name: Chantel Overment
Age: 24
Looks: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/f0/e1/7b/f0e17b2d5d5fcf3e8fa44a400758b877.jpg

Chantel is the daughter of Reverend Richard Overment. She is your class good girl. She has always had good grades, never broken any rules and goes to church every day. She believes in God but doesn’t believe in all of the rules but has never been given the chance to break them. Her friends are all from the church.
 
My family is one of the more influential families in town. Though my parents can be hard, they are also fair and reward hard work. Nothing is given though, all of it is earned. My older brother is working as a level three clerk in my mother's attorney firm, my younger brother has just finished college and on his way to play major league baseball. My sister is still in high school and should finish in two years.

Me?

Now I am a different story.

I run my own business, which is a repair shop. We focus mainly on motorbikes, but if it has wheels, we are willing to work on it. I finished high school and started working for a repair shop, once I had enough money, I started my own business. I know that most of the clients are my father's friends, but I also know that the work I do along with my two assistants are good enough to let them come back anyway.

Now there is a darker side to our family, though you will never know it if we pass each other on the street, the McAndrews family has a deep hatred for the Overment family. It seems that being men of God ran through the family and it was the first McAndrews family who came here 120 years ago, who settled down and made their living from hard work.

It was an Overment, a priest of the church, who falsely accused my great great grandmother of withcraft. In fact she just had a working knowledge of herbs and how to apply them to cure ills. She was burned at the stake and the rest of our family run from our farm. We have sworn revenge for this act, but so far every Overment family have produced only sons. Until now.

I know that my brothers did not worry much about the history, my sister not as much as me. But to me, our history is one of shame, a history which was caused by the Overment family and I now had the chance to exact my revenge. To bring shame and humiliation to the Overment family in such a manner that they will know that their past deeds have caught up with them.

Enough history, our story starts while I was sitting on my motorbike, watching Chantel as she went about her business.
 
I don’t know much about my family past other than we have always ran the church. The first Overment family started the church. I have a lot of pressure on me being the reverends daughter. I know everyone expects me to be perfect which is so hard. I work as the Sunday School Teacher. I didn’t want the job I was forced to do the job. Today I am getting resources for the Sunday School and running errands. I am in http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=50464666, http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=15672555 and https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/f5/1f/a9/f51fa907e85e07a49157a99fcfe85a36.jpg. I feel like someone is watching me as I come out of the shop. I run my hand through my hair noticing you on your bike. I smile at you.
 
Just look at her smiling at me like she knows me. I know for a fact that she doesn't, our town is small enough though, so she may have seen me before. I return her smile and raise two fingers in greeting. Then get off the bike and head to the nearest shop, like I have errands to run as well.

I enter the shop and head for the cold drink fridges, I grab a six pack of sodas and head back towards the cash register, picking up a few bars of chocolate and a packet of chips on the way. I know that people regard we with suspicion because of the bike, because of the scarred knuckles, because of the tattoos on my arms, but mostly because I have made most of them eat the dust and taste their own blood in the past.

I give the young girl behind the counter a grin and pay for my goods, it gets packed into a bag and I pick it up along with my black helmet, which compliments the black leather jacket I'm wearing with my blue jeans.
 
I don’t who you are. I am just being polite and friendly because I have seen you around. Everyone judges you and everyone sniggers about you but I don’t understand why. They don’t know you and shouldn’t judge you by the way you look. Jesus was judged like you are and now it is seen as a bad thing. I feel bad for you.

I know I am expected home but I don’t want to go. My father keeps trying to set me up with one of the church boys and there is a church party tonight. I don’t like the boy and don’t want to date him. I am going to try and avoid this party for as long as possible.

I get in my car- http://cdn1.carbuyer.co.uk/sites/ca...KSWAGEN/NEW BEETLE/2009/2CA.JPG?itok=AZ1q_WFA and start driving without a destination. I turn the radio on loud and bring the roof down. I feel free out on the road on my own. No one can control me out on the road. I sing along with the radio.
 
I see her drive away in her car, I place the bag under the seat, slip my helmet on and decide to not follow her. There is not much I can do now, but she did see me and I could see that she didn't recognize me. I started the bike and pondered my action, from the direction she took, I might just follow her, for kicks and I haven't taken the bike out for a proper drive in some time.

I ref the engine, make sure there is no traffic and take off, driving into the general direction into which she had disappeared into. Feeling the engine growl in response as I open the throttle and change gears.
 
I drive to the middle of nowhere. I run my fingers through my hair as I hear my phone go off. I pull over and answer the phone. “Get home now.” My father shouted. “I don’t want to come home for that party.” I said. “Get here now.” He shouted. I hang up. I am not going home right now I don’t want too. I see there is a motel on the corner of the road. I park up. I go into the motel and book a room. I then go into the bar.
 
The freedom of the road

There is quite a few things that normal people will understand, here you have no worries except keeping the rubber underneath you on the tarmac.

The growl of the engine

The thrill of taking corners and curves at speed.

The fun things in life which makes you forget and hell, I had a lot of things to want to forget. I didn't register the fact that her car stood at the roadside Motel as I shot by. It took a few miles for me to bring the wanderlust under control and force myself to turn around. I would of course would have loved to keep going and never stop, but there were certain things you can never have.

On my way back, I decided to stop at the Motel. The sodas would be warm by now and a cold beer might help a lot. As I turn into the parking area, I see her car. Which was strange, this was not the type of place you'd expect the pastor's daughter to come to. I parked my bike, got off and headed towards the bar, removing my helmet as I walked.

I pushed into the gloomy interior and walked over to the bar, unzipping my jacket. I take a seat and order a beer from the rather skittish bartender, only then do I start looking around the room.
 
I know I shouldn't be here. My parents especially my father will go mad when I see him. I normally wouldn't act like this and rub away it is so out of character but I am just sick of the life I am forced to live. I don't want my life ran by my father and the church. I want freedom. I want to be able to make mistakes and it to be okay. I'm not a huge drinker but tonight I want to be.

I'm so sick of my father trying to marry me off like I have no choice in it. I want a love that is real and true. I don't want forced and fake love. Why does not want me to be happy? "Another." I said to the bartender. "Why is a pretty girl drinking alone?" The bartender asked. I just shrug taking my drink and walking over to an end booth.

I sit on my own drinking. What would the village think if they know where good girl Chantel is? I look around the bar and notice the guy I saw outside one of the shops earlier. The biker guy I smiled at her. I wonder why he's here. I go up to the bar and stand next to him ordering a stronger drink.
 
I noticed the blonde hair in the corner booth, the rest of the guys seemed to be looking at her like a bleeding swimmer in the middle of a pack of sharks. I turned to my beer, paid for it and drank down quite a healthy portion of it. The click of high heels signaled her approach, then came the waft of her perfume as she stopped next to me and ordered. At first I didn't look at her, needed time to get my feelings under control. Draining my glass, I planted a note on the top, ordering a shot of whiskey and adding her drink to my own order.

I gave her a slight smile, "Least I can do. Seems like you are having a tough time."
 
I find it odd he doesn’t look up at me when I approach the bar because I am very close to him and his chair. I see him put a note down on the bar. I see him smile at me and I smile back. “Thanks. I don’t know your name but I have seen you around. What is your name?” I said playing with my hair. I look at him smiling and I take a sip of my drink.
 
I take my time with introductions, downing my shot first and then turning to face her, sticking out a well-worn hand.

"Name's Dale, good to meet you."

I wondered why my skin didn't crawl at the prospect of shaking hands with her, but I think it all came down to the fact that I wanted to have my family's revenge more than to fear the 'bogeywoman'
 
I shake his hand. His big hand nearly swallows mine up completely. "I'm Chantel. Its nice to officially meet you Dale." I said. It was nice to finally know your name. I'm so glad I finally know your name. I have seen you around so many times and I have known your face for ages and its good to finally put a name to the face. "Want to join in the booth, I could do with some company." I said being friendly.
 
I shrugged, "Why sit in a booth? So far to walk."

I patted the chair next to me, "Why don't you park right here and we can tell each other what brings us here and share a few drinks."

I motioned for a refill on the shot, pushing the change towards the barman along with the empty shot glass.
 
I sat down on the chair. I smiled at him as my hand moved through my hair. I crossed my legs. I take my shot and down it. “Well I am here to get away from my family. I have so much stress and wanted to just get away and relax and have no pressure on me. I just need a break from reality.” I said.
 
I toasted her with my glass, then said loudly,

"TO FAMILY!"

And most of the people responded,

"FUCK FAMILY!!"

I grin and down my shot, motioning for more. "Well to get away from reality, you came to the wrong place. Doesn't get more real than right here."

Another shot goes down the hatch and finally I start to feel the pleasant buzz. "Now my family is a bunch of stiff collars. That bike out there? That is me rebelling the system, standing against the fact that people kick out the black sheep. Can't kick a sheep when he is faster than you."

I grinned at her and nodded, "Here I can get drunk, get into a good brawl and sleep in the corner. Here I can be the rebel I am. But out there? There I am a respectable business owner. People entrust their lives to me when they bring their vehicles to me."

I grinned once more, "May I touch your hair?"
 
The booze is going to my head. “I really like that bike it is sexy.” I said grinning at him. She did really find the bike a turn on. “You’re a mechanic that is pretty cool.” I said. I am really enjoying his company. I run my hand through my hair when he asked if he touch my hair. I nod not finding a problem with him asking to touch my long hair.
 
I am not sure if it is the drink or just plain curiosity, but I have noticed how she liked to run her hand through her hair. It was either a nervous gesture or she liked it, I took my chances and reached out. I pushed my fingers into her hair, feeling the soft strands slide over the skin of my hand. It felt like silk, I loved the feeling.

I slowly moved my fingers downwards, avoiding touching her, my hand just concentrating on her hair. I drew my fingers from the tip of her hair and drew back my hand, "You sure do have lovely hair."
 
Ever since I was younger and my hair started getting long I had liked to play with my hair. It had become a habit now. I loved the feel of my long locks it was so soft and smooth. I liked feeling his hand in my hair. Nobody had ever touched my hair like that he was the first to ask to touch my hair. I looked at him smiling.

I really liked the feeling of his big, strong hands running through my hair so gently. I was a little disappointed he moved his hand away because I'd been enjoying the feeling. "Thanks. You have the softest touch." I said. My hand reached out and touched his hand she softly caressed her thumb against his hand. "Your hand are so strong but so soft." I said looking in his eyes.
 
I looked down at her hand, stroking over my own. With my free hand I downed the last shot of whiskey and smiled slightly, "Well with all the scrubbing to get the dirt off, the skin dries out immensely. Now this may sound strange, but I use hand cream to keep my hands from cracking. Trying to clean that hurts like hell."

I slipped from my chair, "Why don't I take you for a short drive on the motorbike? Feel a bit how the rebellious side of life tastes like."
 
“I would really like that.” I said. Something about bikes had always been quite sexy to me. I had never been on one before. I was excited to have my first bike ride. I stood up. “Lead the way.” I said. I smiled at him waiting for him to lead me to his bike.
 
Well what a surprise, the preacher's daughter actually took up the gauntlet. I did as she asked and led the way outside, the fresh air did quite a lot to clear my head, which was good since I would be driving.

I unlocked the handlebars and unhooked the helmet, passing it to her, then as an after thought, I stripped off my jacket and held it out as well, "The wind can get a bit chilly, this should help a lot."

I waited for her to get ready and then climbed onto the bike, kicking back the stand and patted the seat behind me.
 
I followed him to his bike. “That is a lovely bike.” I said smiling at him. I watched him take his coat off and held it out to me. I let him drape the jacket over me. It was big on me but cosy. “You’re so sweet taking care of me.” I said. I for the second time this night kissed his cheek softly.

I watched him get on his bike and the pat the seat behind him. I am really looking forward to this ride. I hooked my leg over the bike. “Can I put my arms around you to make me feel a bit safer?” I asked. I was looking forward to this bike ride but was a bit nervous.
 
"If you don't want to fall off you better hold on tight."

I flicked down the visor on the helmet and zipped up the jacket, then turned to switch on the bike. As her arms circled around my waist. I started the bike. It growled to life, "Got to hold tighter than that."

I revved the engine, placed the bike into gear and pulled away, driving slowly at first.
 
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