Dancing With the Devil by Katie Davis

tray in hand. “That’s why you’d never get Campy. You ride Shimano and you’re rattling down the road on white bread.” She flicked her hand at him and left to dump her garbage.
    â€œYeah,” Mac said, “and I’ll be cranking on focaccia. Besides, I thought you wouldn’t want Campy, so why would you buy my bike anyhow?”
    â€œYou can keep your focaccia or whatever. I’m saving up for Shimano, and then we’ll see what’s what.”
    â€œYou’re saving up? How much you got so far?” This was the first Mackenzie had heard this news. She thought Charlie was all about the mountain biking. Except, she conceded, then why would he bother going on the Vermont trip?
    He pulled out a little black notebook with dark blue trim and fanned the pages in front of Mac’s face. He covered the balance with his thumb, but she could see he’d scribbled in a long list of numbers—deposits, she assumed. “I have enough for a down payment,” he bragged. “Well, almost enough.” He blushed when Mac smiled. “Okay, half that. So I’m not as big a cheapskate as you, and it takes me longer to save.”
    â€œMaybe you just don’t want it as much. I am desperate to have this bike, Charlie. You have to be.”
    â€œYou have no idea,” Charlie said, and walked away from the table.
    It was gorgeous, and Mac couldn’t stop staring at it.
    â€œIt is completely stunning,” Otis said. “I may have to give you a raise or you’re never going to work that beauty off.” Mackenzie didn’t respond. Otis snapped his fingers until she managed to break her gaze from the RoadCap she and Frankie had just finished building up. “I have to go. You guys can lock up after you pick out your pedals and stuff.” He winked at Frankie, well aware that Mac had decided on every detail months before.
    â€œOkay,” Mackenzie said. “Thanks for staying late, O.”
    After he left and they finished up the last details on the RC, Frankie said, “I better get home.” She began putting the tools away. “Geez, Mac, you’re looking at that sled like it’s your new best friend.” She smiled. “Should I be jealous?”
    â€œOf course,” Mac said, grinning. She walked around the RC, in her own world. She lowered her voice, imitating one of those cheesy, overly dramatic commercials, and said, “It is no mere bicycle. This is your trusty steed. Your means of … escape.”
    â€œWe’re only going to Vermont.” Frankie snorted. “And by the way, we have to come back.”
    Not if I had my way . Except for Lily. She’s worth coming home to. “Too bad, huh?” she said aloud. “If we could bottle that ride-zen we’d be rolling in it.”
    â€œTotally.”
    They straightened up the back of the shop, turned off the lights, and locked the door, leaving Mac’s old bike inside. She’d pick it up another day.
    â€œGeez, it’s pitch black out here,” Frankie said. “Tell Otis to fix the light, would you?” They strapped on their helmets and were about to take off when they heard gravel crunching behind them in the dark. They whirled around.
    â€œWho’s there?” Frankie asked, squinting into the darkness. The girls looked at each other. “Say something!” Frankie called out.
    â€œI am the ghost of crappy components!” “Charlie!”
    Frankie said, “Like I always say, you are such an asshole.”
    â€œIt’s my best quality,” he replied, approaching the RC. He whistled, soft and low. It was an appreciative gesture, Mac knew, but there was a longing under it that made her skin crawl.
    â€œIt’s your only quality, Charlie,” Frankie said.
    â€œLike I haven’t heard that before?”
    He stretched his hand out to stroke the seat, but Mackenzie jerked it out of his reach. It