What happens when a finger painting prodigy hitches a ride from a disfigured biker? Why chaos of course!
Quirky, oddball Georgie is anything but normal. For years she hasn't only suffered from a lack of filter but she also has "episodes." She can't...
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Bikers, big, tall, old, young, good-looking, scary looking, men and women fill the backyard. Everyone stops their animated conversations to stare at me.
Adonis remains standing next to me. "This is how I know your dad."
One man stands. He's big and looks to be in his fifties with an American flag bandanna wrapped around his head. He rubs his goatee as he motions for a scrumptious hottie to come over and mumbles something to him. The young guy nods and struts all the way to the backdoor of the house then vanishes inside.
Taking a moment to channel my reaction goes right out the door as soon as I open my mouth. "This is freaking awesome."
That's not the reaction Adonis was expecting and I know it because he gives a surprised laugh, which causes the people around us to widen their eyes.
That makes six.
"Six what?" he asks, leaning down to make eye contact.
"Times I've made you laugh. I'm counting because I get the feeling you don't all that much."
He straightens as I scan the still fairly quiet crowd that's whispering here and there. The man in the bandanna strides over to us making everyone move out of his way and I immediately look to his vest and see President. He stops right in front of me, but my attention is taken elsewhere the minute I see her. My sister.
"Amber!" I whisper yell.
Her elbows are resting on her knees as she sits on a table glaring at me. She's wearing a leather jacket with patches all over, similar to the cuts the men wear, and tight ripped jeans along with heavy worn biker boots.
Our looks are so different, with her being significantly prettier than me. It's hard to believe we're even twins. Her hair is wavy and not a spiral curl like mine. Even our eyes are different with hers being a darker deeper blue, while mine is a creamy robin's egg blue. I wear no makeup. She clearly looks like the type of girl you'd watch do a makeup tutorial and it makes you jealous at the end with the masterpiece she's created on her face.
The crazy thing about my twin and I is that we have different birthdays. We were born in different years and different millenniums. Amber was born at 11:57 1999 on New Year's Eve. I was born New Year's Day at 12:07.
Yep.
Amber slowly gets down and walks away. I watch as the screen door squeaks and shuts behind her. My attention turns to the man in front of me who's also starring after her.
"Georgie, Mr. President," I say, sticking my hand out.
His attention turns to me and looks down at my outstretched hand. His big bear one wraps around mine. "Archie. Uncle Archie."
