True North: A Wordsmith Chronicles MC Standalone

by Harlan, Christopher

  “You don’t need a book for that,” he says in his usual voice.

  “You’re right about that,” I say, giving him the eye. “But if it’s not romance, what is it?”

  “Something I wrote for that class we got thrown out of.”

  “Umm, speak for yourself there, buddy. You got thrown out. I left voluntarily.”

  “Details,” he says, cracking a smile. “But I wrote a few different things for that pre-class assignment that we were supposed to do.”

  “There was a pre-class assignment?”

  “Maybe it’s better that you dropped the class.” He’s full of jokes this morning. But he’s also probably right. “And yes, there was. We were supposed to write about ourselves by telling an anecdote from our past. I wrote two different drafts of that assignment. I brought the second, even though that dick of a professor never got to read it. But it’s the first that I want you to read.”

  I feel honored. Not only because he wants me to read his stuff, but also because he trusts me enough to read something personal to him. “Anytime.”

  “I keep a draft of it in a little notebook in my jacket pocket. Here.”

  He hands it to me, and I get a little emotional as I take it from his willing hand. “Not today, though,” he says. “Sometime I’m not around. Be weird to sit here while you read it.”

  “Okay, sure,” I say. “Why? What’s going on today?”

  “Joaquin’s got some club stuff to do, but I’m gonna let him do it. I got a text this morning from Pepper that some of the boys want to meet up and give me a little send off. You wanna come?”

  “To meet the guys?” I repeat.

  “Yeah.”

  I’m really touched by his offer. It’s one thing to be with him as he’s transitioning out of the MC life, but the fact that he wants to introduce me to that part of his world is really something special. “I’d love to. Who am I meeting?”

  “The Beatle Bros.”

  “I’m sorry, the who?”

  “Rigby and Pepper. Identical twins and general hilarious badasses.”

  “Are those their real names, or is that some kind of biker lingo?”

  “Real as me sitting next to you right now. Their parents were crazy Beatle fans, so they gave each of their twin boys a different name that related. The Beatle Bros thing is mine.”

  “You know, I don’t think I’d ever like a band enough to name my kids after their songs.”

  “Beatles fans are passionate people. I’ve known them a long time, I’m used to their names. But let me tell you, their names aren’t anything compared to their personalities.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Funny as shit. Loud, brash, smart. But I’ll let you get the full Beatle Brothers experience yourself. It’s better to see in person than to hear me describe them.”

  “I look forward to it. Anyone else?”

  “I texted Joaquin to come by. It’d be weird if he weren’t there. The timing should work out. He’s got his thing at one o’clock and the guys want to meet up at two. He should be able to make some of it, at least.”

  “So,” I say, looking at his sexy body lying there. “We have some time, then?”

  “A few hours.”

  “Whatever are we going to do with a couple of hours?”

  He looks at me the way I like—like he wants to do unspeakable shit to me for the rest of his life. “I have a few ideas.”

  Thirty—North—Now

  “Can I use your phone?” I ask, frantically. I feel bad using this kid. He’s already putting his life at risk driving me away from the Leviathan compound, but right now it’s all about Delilah. His safety and mine are secondary.

  “Yeah, man, here.”

  He hands it over without hesitation, and I feel bad. “What’s your name?”

  “Jeremey.”

  I extend my hand. I need to at least be civil. I owe him at least some good manners. “Nice to meet you. James North.”

  “Hey James. Go ahead and make your call. We’ll be where you need to go in like five minutes.”

  “You’re a fucking lifesaver, kid.” I dial Delilah’s number and wait. The space between rings feels like forever, and after three it goes to voicemail. Out of frustration I throw the phone to the floor of the car. “Oh, shit Jeremey, I’m sorry.” I forgot that her cell phone broke a few days ago, and that she was going to get a new one.

  “No worries. I don’t know what’s going on but I hope it works out.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  I bend over to pick up the phone. I feel bad that I threw it down in the first place.

  He breaks gently at the yellowing light in front of us, and I wait until the car is at a full stop before bending over to get his phone back. Kid’s got old Dunkin Donuts cups all over the floor, so I have to dig through the trash to find the phone. My head is practically between my legs when I hear the shot, like a bolt of lightening crashing next to me.

  My head jerks up instinctually. Jeremey’s screaming, and there’s blood pouring from his arm. He got hit with a shot, and he slumps against the door in complete shock. My ears are ringing, but I get my bearings enough to look around. The shot came from next to us. I turn around and see a group of Leviathans on their bikes.

  “Holy fuck, what just happened?” he yells. He’s bleeding and in shock.

  “You got hit, kid,” I yell. “We’ll get you help, but right now you have to switch spots with me.”

  “I can’t move.”

  “Just do it!” I yell.

  Grudgingly, and in a lot of pain, we awkwardly switch positions as fast as we can, and before more bullets come hailing down. I grab the wheel and hit the gas.

  I’ve had just about enough of this bullshit.

  These assholes just fucked with the wrong guy.

  Thirty One—North—Way Back When

  “So, what was that one?” she asks me after an epic pre-lunch fuck session.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Was that best you can do?”

  I laugh. “No. God, no.”

  “Fuck, North, I came twice.”

  “I know. That’s where I decided to stop. We had other things to do, didn’t we?”

  “So, you’re telling me that if we hadn’t had plans for lunch, that. . .”

  “I’ll let you use your imagination on that one.”

  “Jesus, North.”

  We each get ready. For me, getting ready is about a five-minute thing, but for her it takes a little longer. While I wait, I text Joaquin words of encouragement and good luck. I still don’t like that he’s going alone, but if he insists there’s nothing I can do, he’s a grown man and I can’t babysit him.

  On the brighter side of things, I am looking forward to Delilah meeting some of the boys. It’s not just the Beatle Brothers—Screech will be there, and so will Jon Boy. They’re great friends and overall good dudes, I can’t wait for her to meet them.

  When she finally comes out, she looks as hot as she did before she went in. “I’ll never understand why women take so damn long to get ready.”

  “No man will,” she says. “It’s a mystery that has no answer. Just accept it.”

  “What choice do I have?”

  We take a cab instead of my bike over to the restaurant. I know I just fucked Delilah but I’m still turned on by her. She looks really pretty in that dress, and her hair is down and draped over one shoulder the way I like. On the way over, she puts her hand on my thigh and I almost get hard right in the cab, but I fight off the feeling so I don’t walk into my own party with a giant hard on. “I’ve gotta move your hand,” I tell her.

  “Why?” she asks coyly, knowing exactly why.

  “Because I don’t want the guys thinking I want to fuck them.” I start laughing. The cab driver looks back in the rear view like we’re nuts, but I don’t give a shit. I’m happy and having a good time, despite the fact that the back of my mind is occupied with thoughts of Joaquin.

  As we pul
l up I see that the guys brought their bikes. I’d recognize them anywhere. Those animals are already inside, probably a few beers in, waiting for me to arrive. “Are you ready?” I ask her.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “C’mon.”

  Inside the music is loud. Crow’s is a pub, and it’s also where all the bikers come to hang out. There are guys from every club here, but our party is waiting in the back. I see Jon Boy first, his flaming red hair would stand out in any crowd. Next to him is Rigby, and on the other side his twin brother, Pepper. I walk in the room to a roar.

  “Here he is!”

  “The man of the hour!”

  “Stop it,” I tell them. “You all are so fucking loud, they can hear your drunk asses next door.”

  “We’re not nearly drunk yet,” Rigby says. “But give us a few, we’ll get there.”

  “That’s the spirit.” I give them each a big hug. These guys are savages—rough and tough bikers through and through, but they’re also great human beings. After I hug Jon Boy, I see them all eyeing the hot ass woman standing at the door, a little intimidated by all the yelling.

  “And who is this fine thing?” Jon asks.

  “Keep your fucking erection down, Jon, holy shit. This is Delilah. My woman.”

  I haven’t called a woman my woman in a long fuckin’ time. But that’s what she is to me. It may not be girlfriend like she mentioned before, but in my world the designation of my woman is as serious as it gets. She’s mine, and I’m hers also. I see her smile when I give her that title, and she knows without me saying so that it’s not a title I throw around to just anyone. The smile on her face says it all, and I put out my hand, inviting her to come over to the group.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Delilah,” Rigby says, followed up by his brother.

  “Pleasure.”

  “Hi.” Jon Boy leans in for a hug and she squeezes the hell out of him like she’s known him forever.

  “Nice to meet you all,” she says. “North has told me. . . well, not much about you at all.”

  “That fuckin’ right?” Pepper asks.

  “I’ve been busy, man. Too busy to talk about your dumb ass to this woman.”

  “Busy?” Pepper asks. “Busy trying to find a regular job?”

  “Something like that.”

  I keep talking all this shit about leaving, but I don’t even know what the hell that means yet. I don’t have a job, and I don’t really have much of an education to lean back on. I talk a good game about moving on—being a normal citizen, but I don’t really have much of a plan, or much to fall back on. Only my dreams of being a writer, and what the fuck is that worth?

  We sit down to eat and drink. We all get steaks and drink a lot of beer. Delilah fits right in. I’m enjoying my little celebration, but I also have an eye on her—how she’s interacting, if she’s uncomfortable, and generally how she’s feeling. There isn’t a hint of discomfort on her the entire meal. She’s laughing, joking around, and can hang with any topic that these monsters bring up. It makes me happy to see.

  Over an hour passes and nothing from Joaquin. In the midst of my sendoff to civilian life I start to get nervous, and I check my phone more than I’m used to doing. Nothing. No text. No missed calls. I’m worried. This can’t be good. He should be here by now.

  Delilah sees me digging in my pocket over and over, like a man with OCD, and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Everything alright?”

  “Yeah,” I tell her. “Fine. Just checking on someone.”

  “Joaquin?”

  “Yeah.” A waiter walks over with a giant cake shaped like a motorcycle. Sticking out are ten sparkling candles. I smile as soon as I realize that it’s for me. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” Pepper says. “We know how bad your sweet tooth is.”

  The cake looks like it’s on fire, the sparklers flickering little white specks of light in every direction. And then, from behind the waiter, I see him. Joaquin. My heart slows down as my best friend approaches, his face lit up by the glow of the cake.

  “Congrats, Blanco,” he yells as he approaches.

  I stand up and hug him. “I was worried about you, man.”

  “Me?” he asks, pulling back. “No need to worry.”

  “What happened?”

  “Later. This is your celebration. So, let’s celebrate.”

  “Fuck yeah, man.”

  We cut six slices from the cake and chow down. It’s delicious. The boys know what a sugar junkie I am, and this cake is the perfect thing—chocolate on chocolate on chocolate. There’s nothing better, and I stuff myself silly. It’s a great sendoff, even though I’m not actually going anywhere. Mostly it’s great to hang out with my friends—what’s left of the Mescaleros—and the woman who’s stealing my heart.

  When the cake’s been decimated and we’ve all eaten and drank our fill, we head out. The Beatle Bros are heading back to their side of town, and Jon Boy is going to his day job. That’s what’s become of our guys. We used to be one of the faster growing MC’s around, and now we’re a handful of guys with no geography and regular jobs. It’s a sad state of affairs, but it’s not my problem any more. MC’s are like species of animals—some live on forever, and some go extinct. The Mescaleros are endangered, but there are still a few of us who’ll always wear the colors, no matter what else we have going on in our lives.

  Our cab pulls up as the boys head off. Now it’s just me, Delilah, and Joaquin. “Why don’t you wait for me in the cab. I have to talk to him about something real quick.”

  “Alright,” she says. “I’ll be waiting.”

  She turns around, and I stare at how her dress hugs her ass. My body can’t seem to get enough of her. I’m insatiable. If I didn’t have to eat and drink to stay alive, I’d do nothing else with my time right now besides fuck her silly. She lowers her head and ducks into the car, and I slam the door behind her, imagining what I’m going to do to her later. But that needs to wait a few minutes. There’s some business I have to check up on.

  “So?” I ask. “What happened? You had me scared shitless. I thought something had happened.”

  “Nothing happened. I brought my piece just in case, but it wasn’t necessary.”

  “What did Travis say?”

  “Not much,” he tells me. “I told him we weren’t giving the clubhouse away for nothing. That wasn’t going to happen, no matter how much he postured. I told him we’d take his last offer, and nothing less.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. He agreed. I’m meeting him at the place later to do the pickup.”

  “You need me?”

  “Look, North. I know things have been tense between us, but I’m good, man. I’ve got this. And there’s no guilt. I’m happy that you’re getting out. You’re gonna do great shit. I know it. I’ll keep whatever’s left of this club going.”

  I don’t like the idea of him going alone, but I can’t babysit him. He’s offering to take the reins without me, and I have to respect that. “Alright. I trust your read of the situation. And, look, you keep all of that cash.”

  “No way, man.”

  “I insist. Use it for your food truck business. One day that’s going to be world famous with the way Ana cooks. Get after that with the money you get. I don’t need any of it.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure.”

  “Well, alright then. Thank you, Blanco.”

  “What are brothers for?”

  I hug Joaquin like he is my other brother. In some ways we’ve been closer than I am with my biological brother. The embrace is quick, but as meaningful as any I’ve ever had. “Now get out of here, North. I’ll let you know how it went.”

  “Alright,” I tell him. “Later.”

  “Later.”

  I jump in the cab and take my place next to Delilah. “Everything okay?”

  “I hope so,” I tell her, not so sure I believed him before. “I hope so.”
/>   Thirty Two—North—Now

  In less than forty-eight hours my life’s been turned upside down.

  I started off by celebrating the marriage of a great friend and colleague, and now I’m living in a game of Grand Theft Auto. I hit the gas, unfazed by the fact that there’s a wounded kid screaming next to me, and that a bunch of bikers are trying to kill me. I don’t have the luxury of time or thought—I just have to act.

  I speed through, weaving in and out of traffic, and checking the rear view about every two seconds to make sure they’re not shooting anymore. They have the advantage. Those bikes can get along side of me easier than I can get away, so I have to be really strategic in how I’m driving. I honk my horn to get pedestrians crossing the street and other cars the hell out of my way, but they’re gaining on me, fast.

  I can only think of one thing to save my skin.

  I take Jeremey’s phone and hold the home button. I hear the sound signaling that Siri is open. Thank God. “Siri, need directions for local police station.” I just have to pray this kid has his location services turned on. Two seconds later the mechanical female voice speaks back to me as I burn through a yellow light hoping to evade my captors. It doesn’t work. They maintain their speed and start to pull up on my ass a little faster than before.

  I hear Siri speak to me. “The Police Department is located three blocks from your current location.”

  Yes! This may save my life.

  I yell into the phone. “Directions to PD.”

  She tells me to turn left, and then right. I do so, but it’s like a scene in a car chase movie. I’m going so fast that the rubber shrieks out in a horrible and unmistakable sound. Smoke billows from my tires as I try to maintain the car from spinning out of control. I do spin out, but not entirely, and it only takes a moment before the car rights itself, and I make the second turn.

  I can see the police department in the distance.

  I hope this crazy plan works.

  Thirty-Three—North—Way Back When