The Mechanics of The Heart (Unedited)

5

Amara, like most women, had a hard time recognizing her own beauty. She had her fathers dark skin that illuminated into a blue hue in the right light. And a strong nose and jawline that she also inherited from her father, if her father had any sisters, they would look exactly like Amara. The only feature Amara truly seemed to inherit from her mother was her eyes. Her mothers almond shaped eyes that she often were told were her mothers most complimented feature when she was Amaras age.

Amara didn't get many compliments in general, not many she paid attention to anyway.
Years of waking up before the birds just to jog laps, months of conditioning her body to be the perfect running machine had left most of her body muscular, athletic.

What was soft on most women was firmer and toned on Amara. She kept her long kinky hair unruly or braided, she wore no make up and sweatpants were a regular in her wardrobe.

To Amara, she was nothing special and there's nothing to admire of nothing special.

A booming roar of thunder shook the skies of Nevada and the rain felt more like hail than droplets of pure water.
It soaked the earth in a layer of humidity that, even inside the diner, made Amara's hair grow in size with the weather.
The diner was almost ten blocks from the motel she was staying in but the 'complimentary breakfast' listed in the ad were cold packaged waffles, old l muffins and a suspiciously thick orange juice that the attendant was passing as pulp.

Amara knew better than to eat that, at the very least she could afford to dip into her money for a two dollar coffee she'll fill with entirely too much sugar for a cup no matter the size, some eggs and toast that would only cost her another four dollars.

It was somewhat late in the morning, the diner called Lucinda's wasn't exceptionally busy but people were taking shelter from the rain. From her window seat Amara watched the rain drizzle down the glass in imaginary races in her head.

"Can I get you anything else?" Taylor has been working at Lucinda's for a while now and she had seen all types of people come and go. This girl seemed like the type that she didn't see quite as often, this girl had in Taylor's opinion model level looks, usually rarely ever caught in a town as small as the one they were in on the edge of Nevada.

Like a python, envy involuntarily strikes at Taylor but the smile on her face gives nothing away as she looks over Amaras effortless attractiveness, Amara looks briefly over her table before shaking her head.

"No, thank you."

Something almost like the sound of rotating thunder pulls it's presence near the diner and the beast with a plated engine pulls to a hissing stop in front of the window. Pulling Taylor's gaze from her envy glare to one of aching lust as familiar patches of leather stroll into the diner.
The diner where bikers and those alike where not, for the most part, welcomed.
But Taylor was working the lunch shift, also the shift Lucinda preferred to visit her friends across the lake.

Information Bullet all knew thanks to Razor.
"I can't imagine lady prez being pissed with anyone, let alone you." Razor had giggled at his upper ranked brothers disdain for a solid five minutes until he agreed to sweet talk Taylor into getting Bambis favorite desert from the diner.

Amara had watched the brothers swagger in, broad shoulders, glares set in stone wrapped in leather and the scent of rainwater. The energy is the diner shifted immediately, the few people that were occupying the bar stools sipping the hottest and cheapest thing to sustain some heat and shelter from the rain- quickly shuffled to their already soaking feet and rushed out to the rain. Rather endure the storm than be in the presence of two of the patched Devil Horns brothers.

The interaction between the community and the two strangers wasn't all that interesting to Amara, it was rather the way Taylor poked her chest up higher, ran her fingers through her strands of hair that looked like satin silk and plastered a smile on her face that sparked Amaras interest.
It made her think back to her encounters, had her body strained and contour into more flattering pose, alluring posture, did she flash all thirty two teeth.

She found herself often looking to where to place blame, her thoughts always seemed to betray her and she be the one falling on the rusted blade of blame every-time in her head.

"Hey Taylor." Taylor's smiled like a she won Miss Universe as Razor slinked up to her, his face was boyish, full of mischief with a sprinkle of freckles that danced over the bridge of his nose, framing the jagged scar there.
Bullet scoffed as the waitress giggled. Bullet vaguely remembered the girl, she was younger around Razors age but she had worked with Bambi a while ago when she first moved down.

Bullet can vividly remember the girl disappearing during rushes and leaving his sister to cater to the demanding crowd, Bambi was often doing most of the cleaning and there was no doubt in his mind Taylor was only one of the many people who had taken advantage of his sisters kindness.
Bullet couldn't stand the broad and if she wasn't his only connection to the dessert that'll grant him Bambis forgiveness- he probably would've burned Lucinda's to the ground a long time ago.

"You think you can get us half a dozen of those fried strawberry cheesecake rolls?" Razor grinned, wide, crooked and cheeky at Taylor who was entranced enough by his arm wrapped around her shoulders and the fact that he had ensured he would keep his promise this time and set up a date was enough to have her floating towards the kitchen.
"Yeah sure, come back to the kitchen and help me fry em and I'll throw in another half dozen." Razor tossed Bullet a look only they could decipher before the younger of the two followed the waitress to the back with less than innocent intentions.

Leaving being a disgruntled Bullet standing in the masses of the community that feared him and his status yet- they relied on his club and brothers for protection.
Sighing to himself, Bullet knew he'd be here a while.
Razor wasn't the subtle type and apparently neither was Taylor.
"Motherfucker." Bullet grunted, the eyes peering at him wearily irritated him like a bad rash. His own uneasy gaze flickered around the diner his sister adores despite the owner dislike for Bambi and even more hatred for her husband and brother.

Silently over the steam of her entirely too sweet coffee Amara rolled her eyes skyward, scoffing silently to herself. Razor reminded her of the boys from college, cocky and arrogant seeming, involuntarily her top lip curled up in disgust as she watched them trail into the kitchen of the diner.
Not disgust in the people themselves per-say, but the
rather disgust for the misconception of herself in the memories in brought to surface.

Bullet hated this diner and the cramped atmosphere the staring brought on, fuck this, he thought, I'd rather rust in the rain with my bike.
Leaving with more frustration than he came with he moved for the exit of the diner.

Amara, staring down at the bits of coffee grinds and the crumbs of food on her plate, slapped a crisp ten dollar bill on the table before heading for the door.

The rush of the crowd that had huddled for solitude from the rain was thick towards the front of the diner and it was near impossible to squeeze by without bumping someone or jostling someone sitting eating, let alone Bullets size and the intense fear his status brought on made it feel like he too was tip toeing around shards of glass.

Both creatures of their own demise, creating a veil of self deception. One trapped in the past of her mind filled with distorted memories  and the other wrapped in the judgment of others leaving him branded with crimes he never committed, assigning him sins he had no need to atone.- Both suffocating and blinded in self pity, swing past each other like passing trains.

"Excuse me." She says, not looking up and darting out into the rain wrapping her jacket tighter around her.
"Sorry." He mutters, glancing briefly before tucking his head into his collar in attempt to subdue the pelting rain.