Bikes began pulling into the clubhouse grounds around five thirty. It was Stone and me working the gate and directing bikers where to park. I wasn’t entirely happy with the work—it felt like grunt work, and I guess it was—but at the same time it felt good to have a reason for breathing, for a change. At the club I was kept constantly busy: cleaning bikes, fixing bikes, and helping out on the road. A couple of times I’d had to follow some of the old ladies when they went shopping or on a spa day or some shit. But mostly I was round the clubhouse watching and learning their ways and their lifestyle.
I came to learn pretty quickly that the police didn’t like us, but that most of the civilians in town did. The club handled shit that the police couldn’t, or wouldn’t, and in return they were respected and protected. There was only a handful of people who seemed to have serious beef with the club and cause problems, and that was good. My life had been complicated enough before getting there, and all I wanted to do was pay my dues and get on with my shithole existence.
Wolf made his way over to me, a beer in hand and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His gray and black long hair hung limply around his face as he blew out smoke from the corner of his mouth, finally retrieving the cigarette from his lips so he could speak.
“All right, close the gate. No one comes in without checking with me first, you got it?”
I nodded in response. “What is this tonight?” I gestured in the way of the twenty or so extra bikes that were now parked across the clubhouse lawn. “Business or pleasure?”
“A little of both.” He smiled. “These are our brothers from Atlanta, mother chapter, so treat these men right, ya hear me?” He flicked the butt of his cigarette on the ground. “Shit went down a while back and they helped out with bringing in the man responsible. You met him, remember?” He smiled wider and I thought of the man I had killed that night in the basement. “Brothers are here for us to thank them properly.” He patted me on the shoulder and turned to leave. “Like I said, treat ’em right.”
I looked up at the darkening sky and let out a heavy sigh as the music got louder in the clubhouse. It was going to be a long-assed night out there. I lifted the sleeve of my T-shirt, peeling back a corner of the Saran wrap on my arm so I could look at the aster again. It didn’t hurt at all anymore, and I frowned, wishing that it did. I enjoyed the pain of it. The burn of the needle as it dragged over my skin. It took my mind off things and made me forget for a little while. Maybe not forget…nothing could make me forget.
I looked up as Stone jogged over to me. He held out his hand and I shook it.
“The bikes good to leave as is?” I asked with a small frown, and he nodded.
“Yeah, all parked and looking pretty,” he chuckled. “Not much to do now but sit and wait, man. The party will go on till early morning, though with Hardy and his brothers in town, can’t see much happening.” He chuckled again and leaned against the fencing behind us.
I joined him and we both looked toward the cheering and laughing coming from the clubhouse as two of the club girls sidled up to the visiting bikers.
“Who’s Hardy?”
“He’s the president of the Highwaymen in Atlanta. They’re the mother chapter, and he’s not a man to fuck with by any accounts. Not that any of the Highwaymen are, but Hardy is a whole different type of man.”
I nodded like I understood any of what he’d just said to me, though in reality I didn’t. The truth was, I was in over my head, searching for somewhere to belong and something to belong to. Up until the past few months I had never even ridden a motorcycle before. The piece of shit I rode had been stolen from outside a bar somewhere in Idaho. I was on the run and desperate enough to jump on the rusted piece of metal and get myself out of there. Bull had said it didn’t mean anything that I had never ridden before. He told me it was in my blood; he saw it in my eyes, or some shit. Man was motherfucking poetic when he wanted to be.
Gotta admit, the first time on a bike felt like the first time I had taken a breath of fresh air in many years. I felt free. The restless ache that was always in my stomach and the weight on my shoulders lifted, and it was just me, the bike, and the road. I’d kept the bike, long after I should have since it was stolen, and I’d left Idaho that night.
“You hear that lucky motherfucker is patching in today?” Stone said, sounding more than a little envious.
“Patch? Yeah, paid his dues though, so…” I shrugged as a way to finish off my sentence. “How long does it take?”
Stone dragged a hand over his shaved head. He had tattoos across it—a three-eyed crow that look evil as hell. “To get patched? It depends on the man, I guess.”
I grunted an okay and we continued to watch the women dance around the brothers just out of reach, giggling and blowing kisses.
“Cock-teases,” Stone grumbled.
I chuckled but didn’t say anything.
“I need to get fucked tonight. Maybe Crystal will help me out.” Stone punched me in the shoulder and I laughed. “That bitch is crazy.”
“You can say that again.” I smirked.
“Not as crazy as Hammer’s wife. Now that is some grade A fucked-up bitch. Hot as hell though. Guess you can’t have it all though, huh?” He laughed, tapping the side of his head. “Make sure to stay away from her or she’ll have you in her red-clawed grip, brother.” He winked.
“I ain’t afraid of a woman.” I smirked and pulled out my cigarettes. I lit one and blew a ring of smoke up into the air.
“Not sure if she’s a woman or something else. But I know that she’s fucking poison,” he laughed. “Poison with a snatch like a scorpion, no doubt.”
Though I’d never met Maria, Stone’s stark warning of her didn’t faze me. Not one bit. I’d seen plenty of crazy in my eighteen years—more than anyone there could ever know. I couldn’t imagine anything or anyone getting under my thick skin anymore.
Little did I know.
~ 6 ~
It was three a.m. and the party was in full swing, and Stone had been right—there wasn’t much to do but sit back and watch it all happen. That was my role as a prospect anyway: watch, learn and do as I was told. It served me well. There was no thinking involved, just following orders.
