She was smiling ear to ear as everyone climbed onto their bikes and formed up, there was probably about twenty guys, maybe six other ladies, and all of the excitement was real. There was a van filled with camping gear, beer, and food in coolers following the pack as they pulled on the interstate. She felt like she was part of a sacred order or something as they revved up their engines on the highway, flying most of the way at close to one hundred miles per hour in a tight formation, two-by-two, Scooter and her one row back from the front. Her thrill and happiness seemed contagious. Every time someone looked at her, they smiled, remembering why they were in this life, for the pure joy and fun of it under all the bullshit.At a gas stop, one of the ladies saw Alyx struggling with her tangled hair and walked up to her to wrap her ponytail in a small leather strap. She said, “There, even hotter now somehow,” then french kissed her. Alyx, shocked, grateful, and still buzzing from. Libby, as I may have said before, makes no concession to convention and wore a tuxedo, white, over black trousers and a purple bow tie. She looked fantastic of course. My dress was deep blue, tiny straps and tight at the waist. My shoes matched. As we were presented to the President a few eyebrows were raised particularly because in his country homosexuality is still illegal. I’d raised that with both Libby and Tenant. Their responses were similar.“Fuck them,” said Libby.“We’re not in his country,” said Tenant.I watched Libby working the room during pre-dinner drinks. She was wonderful at it, moving between guests, a word here, a smile there. Tenant was stuck with the President who seemed to have had more than his share of the whisky. I spent my time catching up with a few of the hyenas, talking about the new Ministry, thanking them for their support (even when they hadn’t given any) and generally doing what a Deputy Chief of Staff does. Tony Riley was doing the same thing. We met at.
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