by Lynn, Davida
“Never told me about your past, though,” she said, drawing in a long, slow breath. As she exhaled the faint, blue smoke, she went on, “I never pried, mind you, but it always worried me. I just hate to see a younger girl like you do that to herself.”
It ached to hear Donna talk. It was as if she was scolding me and telling me about another friend at the same time. I felt guilt, even though there was no memories to associate it with. I ached, and I wanted to apologize for something I couldn’t even remember doing.
“Did you ever talk to me about it?” I asked, flicking the ashes from the end of my untouched cig.
She nodded, “Every chance I could. You told me that you had a plan, and then you gave me this look that only a twenty something gives. I tried to tell you that you weren’t going to find a husband plowing through a Harley dealership, but you just shook your head at me.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I knew what I was thinking.” My voice was low as I took in Donna’s story. I disliked Patience more and more as I learned about her.
She put a hand on my shoulder. There was pain and sincerity in her eyes, “You didn’t take my advice a few weeks ago, but maybe you will now. That fight with Lisa last night should have been a wakeup call. Do you know what you were doing? You were hitting on her husband. Stache is a full-member of the Sons and a married man, and you were trying everything you could to fuck him. She put a hard whooping on your ass, and I can’t say I blame her.”
“Donna, I--”
She raised a hand, “Not done, sweetie. Not done. Maybe what happened was a gift from God. A chance to start over. Did you consider that?”
I hadn’t. The entire day, I had thought about how awful it was; the feeling of being lost and empty without a single memory to ground me. The last thing I had considered that my memory loss had happened for a reason. The only reason was the fact that I had gotten into a drunken fight and gotten knocked ass over teakettle.
She didn’t wait for me to reply, “I think you should. Clean slate and all that. Here’s what I’d do: I’d talk with Trask. He’s the president of this chapter. Tell him what happened, and then get your life together. You still want to hang out here? Fine, but start working to change your reputation, Patience. Sorry, it’s a force of habit. As for your name? Go to the damn police, already.”
Donna’s words rocked me. In some ways, she was even tougher than Thunder. She was absolutely right, though. Whatever kind of person Patience was, I didn’t want to be. Even Donna didn’t know what Patience was running from, and they seemed to be close friends. Whatever-- or whoever-- it was that Patience had chasing her; it must have been bad.
Trask was the start. I headed inside to talk with him. Back inside the crowded bar to look for the man with PRESIDENT on his patch. It was nearing the time when I’d have to head to the potential meeting at the dam, and I wasn’t any closer to a real identity. Everything Donna told me about Patience just made me hungrier to find out who I really was.
As I wandered through, weaving between all the burly, manly men, the thought struck me that an ex might have been after Patience. She got in too deep with some asshole, and so she changed her name, moved to some shithole apartment and did whatever she had to for protection, even if that meant fucking bikers until she found one willing to stand up for her.
Of all the theories I had entertained, that one made the most sense. If Patience was in hiding, should I be digging up her past? What if that was why thinking of the police got me all worked up? Before I had time to stew in my latest theory, I spotted him. It was hard not to. Trask seemed to be a foot taller than everyone else, like he was looking out over his subjects.
Three other bikers sat on barstools around the table, but he stood. They were laughing about something, but the second that Trask spotted me, the smile drained from his face. The reputation that Patience had preceded her. It felt like being trapped in someone else’s body.
With a stone look on his face, Trask nodded to me, “Patience.” His voice was as cold as his look.
My heart could barely keep up. I could see the disdain in his eyes. I couldn't imagine what he thought of me. Trask was a no-nonsense type. Everything I’d learned about him told me that he was tough. Patience might not have been intimidated by him, but I was.
“I, uh, I need to speak with you.” I had to shout over the music, but my voice probably still sounded meek.
He cracked a smile, “Well, then talk.”
I looked to the other bikers. They had the same vests on telling everyone they were Rising Sons. Both of the bikers looked me up and down. It wasn’t just the usual eye-fucking; there was more to it than that. The thought popped into my head that I may have slept with one or both of them. It disgusted me. I felt like a piece of meat.
Trying to avoid the eyes of the men surrounding Trask, I leaned in, “It’s a bit of a private matter.” He wasn’t reacting. “Please, Trask.”
Time was running out. I had to get to the mystery meeting at the dam, and Trask was dicking me along.
With a single nod to the other bikers, Trask cleared the table. The others gave me a look that was almost worse than the eye-fuck, but at least they were leaving. One of them put his shoulder into me as he passed. Subtle. Real subtle.
I sat down across from Trask. “Something happened last night.”
“You’re damn right. You made a fool of yourself for the last time. Patience, I’m sorry, but I can’t have you in the bar, anymore. The last thing that the Rising Sons need is a reputation, and that’s exactly what you’re doing to us. I’m not trying to sound cruel, but I have to watch out for all of us.”
His words hurt. They were knives twisting at my insides, but if everything I heard was true, Trask was in the right. I fought back tears and made my case, “I woke up with no memory. I’m not Patience. I don't know who I am.” I had gotten good at that intro. It was starting to make an impact in a hurry.
Trask looked around. He rolled his eyes and tilted his head behind the bar, “Look, I don’t know how much I can tell you. I’ll do what I can, but no guarantees. Tonight’s no good. I’ll be out here tomorrow afternoon to restock the place, so roll by then. I think it’ll be a little quieter, too.”
It was the best thing I could hope for. I nodded and gave him a smile. “Thank you. Really, I mean that.” I reached for his hand, but he pulled away.
“Nah, sweetheart. You got a rep, and I got a girl. Let’s not go down this road, again.”
Patience was dying, but she was not going without a fight. I pulled back, “I understand. Sorry. Old habits, I guess.” After navigating through the crowd, I made it to the door, my eye on the time. The meeting at the dam was fast approaching.
There wasn't a single streetlight for miles. I drove past the dam twice before finding a place to park. Despite the cool California evening, my hands were clammy, and I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead. I didn't know if I was nervous, or if my instinct were trying to tell me something.
Unlike the bar, this time I knew I was going to take the gun with me. I didn't want to, but I had no choice. A young woman alone in the wilds of California at night was dangerous enough. I knew any meetings scheduled after dark at a remote location only made things worse.
The digital watch told me I had five minutes to wait. Five minutes to think about the numerous possibilities that could occur. I could be meeting any number of people. Donna made it sound like I was in bad with the wrong people. Everything I had learned in my one day made it clear that Patience wasn't the best at decision making. I aimed to change that.
If my friend at the bar knew about the meeting, she probably would have been against it. Hell, I was against it, but I had no choice. Nobody there knew my real name or anything about me. The Watering Hole had been a dead end, leaving me only one choice: the dam.
I spun around when I saw the reflection of headlights against a mile marker. My watch told me I still had three minutes to wait, but that didn't mean anything. Blood surge through my bod
y, my mind doing everything it could to keep me at high alert.
When the car passed me without slowing down, I realized I had been holding my breath. Maybe the meeting wasn't such a good idea. Maybe my one day without a memory would be my last. I should have had Thunder drive me straight to the police station. In retrospect, I knew that was the right thing to do. I turned back to my car parked on the side of the road.
I ran for it, not wanting to waste a second. I was going to get into the beat up old Chevy and drive straight to the nearest police station. Whatever instinct that had push me away from them was gone. I felt danger in the dry night air, looming and crushing down on me.
I was less than ten feet from my car when another set of headlights flipped on. The vehicle seems to come out of nowhere, and the thought struck me that it had been driving blind, and the sounds of the water rushing over the small dam had covered up its arrival.
My body froze, the car between me and the blinding lights facing me. I put a hand up to block the light from my eyes. The gun tucked beneath my shirt made me so aware of the stupidity of what I was doing. Even if it was a terrible mistake, I was too late. The door to the truck opened up. The lights kept me from getting a clear look at the driver. The passenger seat looked empty. My free hand moved back to the gun.
The driver moved closer. They were almost to the back of my car when I could make out that it was a man. Just as I could make out his shape, he froze. My hand was at the pistol. I was looking for any reason to pull it out. Somehow, I knew my hand and my aim would be steady if I needed it to.
“You?” His voice was low, and it almost sounded like the wind and water from the dam carried the word away.
I stared ahead at the voice. My heart was pounding so hard in my ear that I couldn’t hear him clearly. I cocked my head and wrapped my fingers around the handle of the handgun. If the headlights hadn’t been shining on me, I would have already had it out, ready to pull up at any time.
The man stepped forward, and something inside my mind triggered, “Don’t move!” I pulled the gun forward, letting the man see it.
He froze, raising his hands up. “Really? You’re gonna do me like that?” He was trying to sound friendly, but when a gun is pointed at you, I think you can only do so much.
I shook my head, “I’m only looking out for number one. Who are you, and what are you doing out here?”
The man laughed. That’s when I recognized the voice. I lowered the gun, but not all the way. Questions. More questions. Every time a new card was turned up, all it offered was more questions.
Thunder shook his head, “I could ask you the exact same question, couldn’t I, Patience?”
“Thunder, what the fuck?” How small was my world, or how much was God fucking with me? “You knew about this meeting, and you kept your mouth shut today? I’ve been going insane trying to find out anything about who I am, and you don’t mention we have a meeting?”
He moved towards me, and I raised the gun up, again.
Thunder’s voice changed. It turned into something I hadn’t heard before. It hardened into concrete in an instant, “Put the fucking gun down. I know just as much about this as you do.”
There was so much power in his voice. It was so strong and so commanding, my arms couldn’t help but sink and lower the gun.
As Thunder moved past my car towards me, he went on, “You and I are absolutely fucked, you know that? I was supposed to meet my new contact tonight. Through some cruel twist of fucking fate, that’s you. You: the woman who lost her memory last night. Do you know what that means for us? We are not only blind, but we are deaf, dumb, and up Shit Creek without so much as a life vest.”
My mouth was wide open as he spoke. My index finger moved from the trigger. I thought I knew confusion, but confusion just bitch slapped me. “Your contact? Just who in the hell am I supposed to be?”
Thunder turned away from me, muttering to himself, “Jesus, we’re fucked. This is some twisted shit.” His hand was at his forehead, and he was spinning around in the beams of the headlights.
“Thunder! Who am I?”
The only man in the world that I knew turned back to me. The strength and concrete hardness was gone. I saw fear in his eyes. Just like everything else about Thunder, it was infectious. Whatever was going on, it was big.
To my right, the constant sound of the water rushed over the dam. It was the only sound as Thunder stared at me.
“Come on! I don’t know I got damn thing. I don’t know who—“
His growl cut me off, “You’re a DEA agent. You’re supposed to be, anyway. I’m a narc, and I’m here to meet my contact and start working on the case against the Rising Sons.”
We were back at the diner, again. The entire day felt like one long nightmare. I was a DEA agent, according to Thunder. I almost wished I was a stripper, instead. I guess being an agent made sense. It explained the guns, it explained why no one seems to know my real name, and it explained the fleeting moments of instinct. All in all, though, it didn’t explain a whole hell of a lot.
I still had no real name, and it became very apparent that I was in danger. I was infiltrating a club of powerful, lawless bikers. My mission was lost to me, though. As far as being an agent was concerned, I was useless. Who did I report to? Did they know where I was? Did they know I was…compromised?
Thunder sat across from me, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. The two of us had sat in silence since I followed him to the diner. Occasionally I would open my mouth to say something, but words had failed me up to that point.
Finally I spoke, actually catching them off guard for once. “You lied. There’s a lot you are not telling me. Why don’t we get your story?”
After wiping a splash of coffee from the table, Thunder sighed, “I didn’t lie. I don’t go around telling every woman that takes me home that I turned state’s evidence. It’s not very sexy pillow talk, know what I mean?” He must’ve seen the look on my face, “No offense.”
“Oh, none taken, asshole.”
“Hey, hey. You have to understand that last night you were just another sweetbutt. Just another biker groupie that wanted to hop on the pole. This morning, you weren’t. And now? Shit, I don’t know what the hell you are, now.”
“Join the fucking club. What did you do?” Thunder and I had gone from lovers to acquaintances to partners, apparently. We were doing it all out of order, but it felt like that was just the way he and I were. Thunder was alluring, sexy, and confusing. I knew it wasn’t the case, but all the twists in my life felt like his doing. He was there when I woke up with no memory, and he was there at the meeting. I couldn’t tell if he was nothing but bad luck or nothing but good.
There was pain on his face. I could tell he didn’t want to explain, but we both knew he had to. He groaned and looked down the aisle. I turned and followed his gaze. The coast was clear so I faced him, again.
“It’s a bullshit thing, really.”
I nodded, really piling on the sarcasm, “Yeah, I’m sure a lawyer fucked you.”
“Ha fucking ha. When I joined the Rising Sons, I had a little problem with the white horse.” Thunder brought his hand up to his nose, tapping it a few times.The news didn’t shock me, but it was a little surprising. Thunder really seemed like he had it all together.
“I guess once I was in with the Sons, I painted a target on my back. I had cleaned up for about two weeks, but then some family shit had me itching bad. I tried buying from someone new, and it bit me in the ass. Surprisingly, that was my first time in trouble with the law, and since I was in with the Sons, the DEA wanted intel on the biker gang. It was that or five years in State. It was an easy choice, you know?”