One
Trainer
There was nothing in the world, quite like riding a bike. I lived for it. Every time I threw my leg over a motorcycle, a tingle of excitement gathered in the base of my spine. It was freedom, rebellion, and fun all rolled into one.
I’d discovered my passion for the ride when I was only sixteen years old. Back then, I’d been desperate for a car, as anyone is at that age. I thought it would impress the ladies, not that I knew a damn thing about women.
As a foster kid that bounced around the system for years, I’d known that I was on my own when it came to vehicle purchases. No foster parent I’d met would ever dream of buying me one, if they could even afford to at all.
So, I scrimped and saved, working in the dish room of a cafe after school and on the weekends for as many hours as I was legally allowed. After three months, I was ready. I searched the classifieds in the newspaper for the perfect car, but instead, I stumbled across an ad for a used motorcycle. I called up the guy selling it and set up a time to take a look at it, to satisfy my curiosity. Once I set my eyes on that cherry red and chrome machine, I was in love. It was a Honda 250, so not exactly a powerful bike, but it had some get-up-and-go. It didn’t get up to a high enough speed for the highway, but it was fun to ride around town. It was my primary mode of transportation for two years before upgrading to my first Harley-Davidson, which was the bike I had when I joined the Outlaw Souls.
Outlaw Souls was the motorcycle club that I’d been involved with for the past ten years. We were a brotherhood.
Motorcycles were a huge part of my life. I rode them for fun and fixed them up for a living. Buying classics and restoring them to resell was a lucrative way of earning income. And I’d heard it said that if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life. I wasn’t sure if I bought into that, but I knew that I wasn’t suited for working in an office or anything like that.
“Damn, that thing is a beauty,” Ryder, our MC president, let out a low whistle as I pulled up beside him, straddling my most recent restoration.
I smirked. “You’re looking at a ‘77 XLCR.”
“Nice Cafe Racer,” Pin, our treasurer, said as he wandered over to us.
We were meeting in the parking lot of The Blue Dog Saloon. The bar was owned by Yoda, our Chaplain. His brother, Padre, used to be our president, until things went south a couple of years back, ending in Padre’s untimely death and Ryder taking up the responsibility of leading us. We were all unsure about how Yoda would take the transition, losing his brother in a bloody confrontation like that, but Ryder somehow smoothed it all over. It was a private matter, so I wasn’t sure how that went down, but it must have been one hell of a conversation. After all, it was Ryder that killed Padre. He didn’t set out to do it, but he didn’t have much choice.
The whole thing was a mess, and it had shaken things up, as expected, but there was peace in the club now. Ryder had stepped into the role of leader with a plan to shift the focus of the Outlaw Souls from escalating violence and illegal activities that plagued La Playa to trying to protect the community from such things. This was our home, after all.
We weren’t saints by any means, still involved with arms dealing and not afraid to break the law when we felt it was necessary, but we made sure not to do that locally. This town had enough problems from our rivals, Las Balas. Their sex trafficking and drug running was out of control, a real plague on the area.
I lowered the kickstand of the bike, stepping off as I killed the engine. This motorcycle was much lighter than my normal ride, which was one of the many unique characteristics of this particular model. It was also a slim bike with a long wheelbase and a bikini fairing. The look alone was the reason it was a collector’s item.
I pulled the black helmet off my head, placing it on the seat. I didn’t have to worry about securing the thing. No one was going to walk off with my helmet, oranyof my property for that matter in Outlaw Souls’ territory. Besides, we always assigned a Prospect to watch over the motorcycles so that they were never unattended. Our prospective members had to do things like this to prove themselves worthy before becoming Patches - which was what we called our official club members.
There were currently ten Patches and three Prospects, but we were always a growing organization. The ride I had scheduled for us today included the entire club as well as more casual bikers from the community, making a total of 28 people. It was a good opportunity for locals to get to know the Outlaw Souls, to erase any stigma from the activities of clubs like Las Balas. We might even get a few new Prospects out of it.
As Road Captain, it was my job to organize the rides, planning routes, and making sure that everyone followed the rules. As I walked into the bar, all eyes were on me. Usually, Ryder led all meetings, but these rides were my responsibility. So, I remained standing while everyone around me sat, with my hip leaning against the brass railing along the wooden bar, and my arms crossed over my chest.
I launched into a speech that was well-worn after many years, so I hardly had to think about what I was saying anymore. It was always the same. I covered the length of the ride and the stops we would make to rest. Some people preferred the spontaneity that lack of planning offered, but my first priority was safety, which required developing a strategy and sticking to it. We would be riding in formation the entire time, with Ryder leading the way. I would be second, followed by the least experienced riders. It was better to put those people in front of the pros, so that they could be watched. The last thing I wanted was to leave someone behind because they couldn’t keep up. I assigned Swole to ride in the back, making her the sweep rider that set the pace.
All the Outlaw Souls had heard this a million times before, but they listened silently, giving me the respect of their undivided attention. It was a sign of my efficiency as a Road Captain and the importance of the position I held.
Finally, I reminded everyone that we didn’t want showboats in the group. No competing or going rogue. This wasn’t about showing off. These rides were about the entire group moving as one. We were a brotherhood on the road, even when we were riding with non-members like today.
We headed out after that. I double-checked that the first aid kit was in one of my leather saddlebags. The other one held a few basic tools, just in case there were any mechanical malfunctions on the road. The MC members all kept their bikes in pristine condition, so it had never happened before, but I believed in being prepared. Pin liked to tease me about being a boy scout in a past life, because I sure as hell wasn’t one in this one.
We all mounted our bikes and fired them up, the roar deafening. Ryder and I nodded to one another before pointing our bikes south. Then, we were off on a ride through the winding back roads of southern California, with the bright sun shining overhead as we left La Playa behind for the afternoon.
Two
Erica
“Are we there yet?”
I sighed through my nose before forcing a smile onto my face as I met my son’s eyes in the rearview mirror. It was the third time he’d asked in the last hour, but I knew it wasn’t fair to get irritated with him. We’d been on the road for almost eight hours now, and I was more than ready to arrive at our destination myself.
“Almost, buddy,” I glanced down at the GPS on my phone, which claimed that we would reach La Playa in half an hour.
Dominic didn’t respond, just turning to look out the window, watching as we passed a huge apricot orchard. The scenery had been lovely as we traveled west across Arizona and Southern California. There was a lot of flat farmland as well as green, rolling hills. Now that we were going North, I could see a mountain range in the distance, providing a stunning backdrop on such a bright, spring day.
A loud rumbling sound drew my attention, making me frown.What is that?
