Saving Della-Ray

by Le Carre, Georgia

  "I needed some air," was my gruff response.

  "Where?" he asked.

  My brows furrowed into a frown. Had something gone wrong? My thoughts instantly went to the girl and I felt the hairs on my body stand to attention. "Is there a problem?"

  "We have church right now. How far are you from Reno’s?”

  "I'll be right there." I ended the call.

  I thought for a moment about what the buzzing running through me could mean, but apart from the girl, nothing else came to mind. I thought to call her, but then I realized that I didn't even have her phone number.

  "Fuck," I cursed under my breath. I immediately tore my bedding away and reached into the slit in the mattress for my second phone. I switched it on and got my old friend, Yuri on the line.

  “Do you know what time it is?" he asked.

  "Can you help me look a number up?"

  He groaned. "Sure, whose?"

  I gave him Della’s address.

  "Okay I'll look it up."

  “Can you do it now?” I could feel him about to ask, so I immediately cleared the air. "It's personal."

  "Uh … that puts me in a tight spot. You know I can't reve—"

  "Are you going to make me go to someone else?"

  With a sigh, he agreed and the conversation came to an end.

  I needed a shower, but I didn’t have time for it so I quickly washed. Her number was already in my phone by the time I got out of the bathroom. I pulled on an old vest, it was easier to get into than a t-shirt. Then I memorized the number before I switched the phone off, returned it to its place, and ran from the apartment. I was on my Harley and on my way in no time, navigating the chilly night with my only good hand.

  The moment I arrived at the discrete midtown bar, a text lit up my phone. I stared at it in surprise. It had been so long since I’d received a text, but when I saw that it was from Volt, I froze.

  I pulled it up as I disembarked from the bike and read it.

  They tailed you ... Tell them about the girl.

  I reread the text again, the earth seeming to sink beneath my feet. Then, I raised my gaze to the black, starless sky.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did I go to her last night? Damn me and my stupidity.

  I kicked the dusty ground with frustration and fury at myself.

  Get a hold of yourself, idiot. Don’t make it worse.

  I took deep breaths and after a while, I regained my calm. Wiping my face of all expression, I headed into the bar. It was lit with vibrant red lights and hazy with thick smoke.

  The room was empty but for the club’s nine executive members.

  Every one of them was staring at me, their gazes piercing, questioning, and waiting.

  My gun was tucked into my waistband, but it would not have done me a fucking bit of good.

  I slid into the nearest booth, behind a table I knew I could use as a shield if things went out of control.

  “How you feeling?” Snake asked. If he had meant to sound caring, he failed miserably.

  A cold shiver ran down my spine. “I’ll survive.”

  Snake nodded.

  The bar was eerily quiet, but I knew that it had nothing to do with the somber incident that had taken place just a few hours earlier. I addressed the suspicion head on, “Who was asking for me?” I asked.

  Tyler spoke up. “I was. Where were you?”

  I stared at him, my face darkening at the inquisition. “What’s it to you?” I asked. From the corner of my eye, I didn’t miss the look the other members shared with each other. “Is there a problem?” I asked around again.

  Everyone remained silent. Snake responded, “None, Bone. We just got word that you went to find a woman, then disappeared with her. We’ve never heard of you with any hussy before so we were just a bit curiou—”

  “She’s no hussy,” I interrupted, my fists clenching, my tone heavy and harsh.

  No one said anything.

  I stared grimly at the members in the bar and over to little Rick, the bar’s owner behind the counter. “So you tailed me?” I asked coldly.

  “Don’t take it to heart, Bone,” Rooster placated. “One of the members just thought they spotted you. It was more for your own good than anything else.”

  Malicious bastard must think I was born fucking yesterday. “Yeah? So what’s this interrogation all about then? I was with a woman. Since when did that become a crime? Like I haven’t dealt with enough bullshit for one day?”

  “Who’s the woman?” Tyler asked, his eyes drilling into my soul. Unlike the others, he wasn’t even a little bit moved by my aggressive response.

  “None of your fucking business,” was my furious response.

  “C’mon,” RJ crowed excitedly. “You’ve always been a loner. Imagine our surprise when we found out you had someone to go to on such a tough day for ya. Volt, you saw where she lived right?” The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a serious mistake.

  “You fucking moron!” Volt screamed.

  More curses and hisses rang out and the bastard lowered his head in shame to take a long slug of his beer.

  I lifted my gaze to Volt, who had with seemingly good intention, secretly alerted me to the fact I’d been tailed in the first place.

  “You left the hospital in a rush,” he explained hastily, his eyes darting around the members. “I followed to make sure you were okay. Then I saw you pick her up, but I lost both of you after that.”

  I kept up appearances and continued to glare at him.

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’ll look over her for you,” RJ piped in.

  I slowly transferred my glare to him. How I hated him. The term lowlife scum was too much of an honor for him. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble already? A damn kid was paralyzed on your account today, and I was almost killed. Are you ever going to learn to behave like a fucking human being, or do I have to destroy you myself?”

  Embarrassed, he smashed the tumbler of whisky he had been nursing on the ground defiantly, shot up from his stool, and glared at me with his reddened eyes. “Let’s see who’s gonna destroy who first,” he boasted, starting to reach behind him.

  Before his hand could even touch his gun, Tyler’s fist had slammed into his jaw. It happened so fast RJ didn’t even make a sound as he crashed to the ground.

  Rooster who was sitting next to him jumped up to avoid his dead weight crushing him. Rowdy laughter rang out across the bar as Rooster bent down to shake the unconscious man. "He's out," he reported, as he arose.

  Tyler reached for the gun that had flown off RJ and the meeting went on without further interruptions.

  "What are we going to do about the Death’s Hand?" Tank asked.

  "A war is unavoidable now,” Dobson responded. “I can’t figure out why they attacked first? What’s with these bloodthirsty bastards fucking running around?”

  "I say we take them all out,” Tyler declared. "With their attack today, there's no going back. It's either we deal with them, or they deal with us."

  "But why did they fucking attack first?" Dobson lamented once again and the bar went silent. "I mean we were the ones they offended by snatching this bastard’s vest.” He kicked the unconscious man in the ribs. “It was our turn to give a response."

  "We were silent for too long," Shotgun quietly explained. "They couldn't take the wait any longer. It was probably driving them crazy imagining how we were going to react."

  “Shotgun’s right," Tank agreed. "They probably had nightmares of us burning them all in their sleep. Better an enemy you can predict than one you can't figure out. This was to drag us out in the open and force us to take action. The sissies probably didn’t even intend to hit any of us. That kid just fucking got in the way."

  "His name is Junho,” I growled.

  "Whatever," was his response.

  I rose to my feet. I couldn't stand a moment longer in the company of these fucking beasts. "I need rest," I announced. "I'll be at the house."
>
  Under normal circumstances, I would have been stopped, but given that I was amongst the victim count for the day, I was excused without repercussions.

  I got on my bike and returned to the shit hole where I’d vowed to lay my head until I had my revenge.

  Della Ray

  I halted chopping the carrot in front of me, and glanced towards the living room sofa where Nichole was predicting all the doom and gloom from.

  "It's going to be a blood bath," she said.

  "What is going to be a bloodbath?" I asked.

  She turned down the volume of the news program she had been watching and turned to me. “Haven't you been listening?” she asked. “It’s these motorcycle clubs. The cops say it seems like a war is brewing between them.”

  "Which clubs in particular?" I asked, my chest tightening uncomfortably.

  "They haven’t said yet," she responded, and sunk back into the couch to return her attention to the television.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wanted so much for Bone to be safe.

  “Death’s Hand and ... Order of blood?” She read from the screen. "What kind of tacky names are these? Freaking low lives. I wish the cops would just boot them all from the county. They're so much freaking trouble." Flinging the remote aside, she rose and headed over to me.

  I feigned nonchalance as she came over and lifted the lid off the pot of basmati rice that was boiling on the stove.

  “Mmm … it’s almost ready,” she said. Pulling up her sleeves, she headed over to the sink of dishes awaiting her.

  I heard the faucet come on and moments later was startled by a sudden clang. I turned to see Nichole watching me with narrowed eyes.

  "Are you all right?" she asked.

  I nodded. "Of course, why?"

  “I was calling and you didn't respond."

  I frowned at her, realizing why she had pounded the spoon against the sink.

  Suddenly her face changed. “Does he belong to one of those clubs?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, Della. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not like I’m in a relationship with him.”

  "Do you want me to go get Jess?"

  "Umm." I needed the time away to clear my mind. "No, I'll do it.” I stepped away from the vegetables.

  I moved quickly towards Jess’s room, but I stopped in front of the door to allow my mind a moment. I needed to clear my head. If what the news was saying about the clubs was true, then it meant that he was possibly in trouble. Big trouble.

  He had already been shot once ... perhaps this time around he would— I couldn't bear to finish the thought and wished more than ever that I had gotten his phone number. But even if I had it, what would I say when I contacted him? Don't get yourself killed?

  I was nothing to him so why couldn't I get him out of my mind? Why had his wellbeing now become my concern?

  Della Ray

  The next day at the bar was a slow night for us, so I pulled out my phone and began to Google motorcycle clubs.

  As I was scrolling through, a piece of conversation trickled into my consciousness and my ears instantly perked up in attention. Two men were discussing the race and how it tied up to the damn MC brawl that everyone had predicted would leave a countless number of people dead. I listened for a moment, once again my temper rising at the senselessness of the entire situation. "Why don't they just cancel the entire damn race?" I blurted out.

  Both men went silent as they turned around to gaze at me, taken aback by my sudden outburst.

  I just couldn't hold back anymore. I just couldn't understand it. "Why on earth would a bunch of grown ass men get so worked up over a freaking vest?”

  Henry looked surprised. "You know about this?"

  "It's all over the news. They're milking it for all it’s worth. Luxuriating in every gory detail and trying to find even the most tenuous connection to every shootout that has ever taken place in the country. How the hell can I possibly not know about it?"

  "Whoa!" Henry's brows shot up. "You seem pretty upset about it.”

  I exhaled deeply. "It's just so annoying. It makes the entire county unsafe for everyone else."

  "You're right," Tim, Henry’s friend agreed. "I've even heard that their bar has emptied out a lot these days."

  That perked my interest. "They have a bar?"

  "Well it's not theirs, but you could call it their official hangout. Normal folks used to go by there once in a while just for the thrill of it, but in the recent months, it's mostly been just the club itself. People are cautious now ... scared of a gunfight breaking out at any moment.

  "What's the name of the bar?" I asked.

  Henry beamed with amusement. "Why? Are you going to go there?”

  "Of course not,” I stated flatly.

  Henry stared at me with suspicion. “Hmmm.”

  “Well, where is it?” I prodded.

  “Don't tell her," Henry said. “It seems like she’s planning to go there for some reason.”

  Tim on the other hand was of a lighter disposition. "It's over on Crow Dust Street. It's called Reno’s, I believe.”

  I gave Henry a hard look, drained my drink, and got up to return to work.

  * * *

  The next day … yep … I found myself walking up to Reno’s on Crow Dust Street. It was off the main road, and tucked not far off from a tire junkyard. The walls of the building were made of bright orange bricks with flame graffiti all over it. Two black and silver motorbikes were parked outside.

  It was indeed a biker bar. Two men sitting outside, one attired in a bandana and leather jacket, and the other bald, brawny and with a pair of dark sunglass shielding his eyes, leered at me as I headed towards the entrance.

  Now I was certain I had lost it, why else would I have willingly come to a place that everyone else with two brain cells to rub together in the county was avoiding?

  Squaring my shoulders, I walked in.

  Outside, it was sunny and bright, but inside the entire place was lit with dim red bulbs. The outside world beyond these walls became deeply lost in this seedy place. I strolled in to the serenade of maniac, head banging music, fortunately on low volume.

  It wasn’t exactly busy, but every eye in that place turned to me. The men watched me with a mixture of hunger and suspicious hostility. I turned towards the bar and a creaky old man behind the bar was waiting for me, so I hurried over.

  I wanted to quickly ask for Bone, then find my way out of here, but I suddenly wondered if that would be dangerous in more ways than I could understand, so I simply ordered a cold beer and propped myself on the bar stool. My plan was to converse a little with the old guy to the point where I might casually slip in a question about where Bone was, but the moment he served me my drink he slunk away as if I was infected with Ebola.

  I got the message, but I couldn’t just admit that it had been a bad decision to come here on my own and leave. Nearly half-an-hour passed and my beer grew warm, but I couldn’t give up. Every time the door to the bar was pulled open and yet another biker appeared, my head snapped up, my heart in my throat as I hoped that it would be him.

  But it never was.

  With the whole ambience of the place, the horrid music, the thick smoke making my eyes water, and the menacing stares I could feel boring into my back, I decided to give up. For my own sanity.

  I was about to get up and when the back door was pulled open, and a girl came in, or perhaps she was a woman. It didn’t matter. The important thing was I wouldn’t be the only female present, anymore. She was obviously staff, because she took her place behind the bar. After tying up her bright strawberry blonde hair, she pulled out a thick book from the cabinet below and began to flip through it. Here was my chance to ask for a bit of info. I figured being a girl she would be easier to approach.

  “Another bottle, please,” I called out to her with a big, friendly smile.

  With a sigh, she closed her book and came over. Her eyes were a st
riking green, and when I smiled at her, she sent a tight smile back.

  “I’m looking for someone,” I said to her. This was my last chance and I reckoned this to be as good an opening as any. “Could you please help me?”

  She gave me a very deliberate once over. “Depends,” she said, and popped the gum in her mouth.

  “Bone,” I said. “Do you know him?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You a cop?”

  I was so taken aback by the question that for a few seconds I didn’t know what to say. When I did, my voice was a high squeak. “Oh, no. Definitely not. I waitress at a diner and a bar.”

  “Then why you asking?” Her tone was now downright unfriendly.

  "I uh, I have a question for him,” I replied, already regretting asking her.

  Instead of answering my question, she had one of her own. “How do you know him?”

  I hesitated. I realized she wasn’t going to give me any information and I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking I was leaving with my tail between my legs so I picked up my drink and headed over to an empty booth. I began to wonder if perhaps she would have spoken to me if I had said we had met when he had come to my bar. But as I looked in her direction again, our eyes met and I caught the sullen venom in her gaze as she wiped down the counter, I knew she had no intention of telling me anything.

  I wondered what her problem was. Didn’t tips make up the bigger portion of her wages? Whenever I was working at the bar or even the diner for that matter, I couldn’t do enough to please a customer.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the deafening sounds of what I could only imagine was a very big group of motorcycles arriving outside. A new fear made me grip my bottle of beer so hard my knuckles showed white. A few leering old-timers and a mean barmaid I could handle, but a whole bunch of bikers with personalities unknown? Maybe murderers and rapists in the mix?

  My heart was thumping loudly in my chest. I knew I had definitely stayed for too long and it was time to leave, probably through the back door, but still I waited. Then it was too late to leave.