Stone Hard:A Secret Baby MC Romance

By: Melinda Minx

A Secret Baby MC Romance



A fresh start. I left my cheating asshole boyfriend behind in Denver. I left everything behind. The Rockies are already hours behind me, and the only thing I have left from my old life is my shitty, beat-up, 15-year-old Dodge Stratus. It doesn’t even have a plug for my phone, so I’m blasting an old mix-CD from when I was in high school. I sing so loud that I don’t even hear the battery light beeping on and off.

Oh, but it is beeping. I turn the music down and listen. Beep. Beep. Beep.

It’s an old car, all the lights are already on: the engine light, the squiggly key-looking light, and now the battery light. But only the battery light is blinking.

Shit. I turned off I-17 shortly after entering Arizona. I wanted to see the backroads as I drove into my new home, to see the natural beauty of the desert.

The car sputters a bit. Shit.

I turn off the A/C, and then the CD player.

“Please, battery, don’t give out on me,” I say, desperation seeping into my voice.

And then, as if in response, the battery--and the car--gives out on me. The engine shuts off, and I hear a low whining sound for a moment, but then that stops, too. My car coasts briefly, and I use the leftover momentum to pull over to the side of the two-lane road. My tires grip the shrubs and sand, and soon I come to a complete stop. Total silence settles over the inside of the car, and I sit in that little bubble of peace for a few moments.

I look at my phone. It’s dead. Shit. I just couldn’t have shelled out the $15 for one of those cigarette lighter adapters?

I punch the dashboard and scream. “Fuck!” I punch the steering wheel, and then I rest my forehead against it, as if apologizing.

“Why am I apologizing to you?” I ask the car. “You’re the one who betrayed me. Just like that asshole Ray did.”

I notice the open bottle of water in the cup holder. It’s half empty. Not half full--half empty. Denver is dry, but you never had to worry about running out of water in the city. But this is the actual desert.

When was the last time I saw another car? Hours ago? The A/C has only been off for a few minutes, but the heat is already rising. I open the door and step outside, and I take in the endless horizons and the sheer openness of the desert around me. This little two-lane road is my only lifeline to civilization, but what civilized people are actually travelling on this dinky little road?

I’m wearing a sundress and sunglasses, but despite its name, a sundress will not protect me from the relentless Arizona sun.

I look around in desperation for some form of shade, but there’s nothing. It’s just past noon, so the sun is straight above my head, and the weak desert brush around me casts only enough shade for my feet.

“I just had to take the backroads. Now I really can reflect on the majestic beauty of the desert.”

I sigh and grope for the latch that opens the hood. An open hood and a woman in a sundress should maximize my chances for someone stopping to help me. I just hope it won’t be the wrong kind of people, though at this point I can’t afford to be choosy.

I look down at the engine after I open the hood. It’s a confusing, black-and-grey coiling mass of metal and plastic. I hate cars, and I barely ever used mine in Denver. Maybe that’s why the battery died.

“Battery...where’s the battery?” I mumble as I look down. I see a big plus sign drawing pointing to what looks like a big, silver screw. “Okay, that’s where I hook up the jumper cable.”

Shit. Do I even have jumper cables?

I pop the trunk and pull out some of the boxes. These are the few belongings I wanted to bring with me--the things that hadn’t been mentally tainted by four years with Ray. I set the boxes on the ground, then I sigh in relief when I see a pair of jumper cables tangled up in a deep corner of the trunk. They’re a bit rusted and gnarly, but they’ll probably do the job.

I hook the red cable to the big plus sign, and I bend over to look into the hood, but I can’t find the minus sign.

I look back down the road, as if the desert itself is going to tell me where to hook the cable. But then I see something on the edge of the horizon. It’s moving through the point where the water-like mirages shimmer across the road. It’s black and chrome, and the sun hits it just right, lighting up the chrome and shining at me like some kind of beacon.