I exhaled a sigh of relief as I heard an approaching bike, only to realize whoever it was I didn’t recognize as being a Sinner.
Fuck.
The bike came to a stop outside the door of the shop and a very muscular man in a Sinner’s cut got off the bike and sauntered over to where I was. His hair was short, he had a few days growth of beard, and his odd manner of walking wasn’t something he did, it seemed to be a part of who he was. He walked like he’d served time in the joint, and his walk made a clear statement. It was a don’t fuck with me walk.
“Mikuni?” he asked.
I turned to face him and shrugged my shoulders. “Excuse me?”
“It’s leaking like a motherfucker. You planning on watching it pour out until it’s empty, or fixing it?” he asked.
“I don’t know where it’s coming from,” I responded.
Without speaking, he turned and walked to his motorcycle, removed the seat, and unrolled a tool kit. After a few seconds, he meandered back to where I stood, knelt down, and tapped something against the bottom of the carburetor.
“There,” he said.
The gas fumes were atrocious. If someone would have lit a cigarette, the entire shop would have gone up in flames.
“There what?” I asked.
“It’s fixed,” he said. “But I’d push that fucker in the drive before I started it. You try and start it over that puddle it’ll go up in flames.”
“You fixed it?” I asked as I shifted my eyes toward the carburetor.
The leak had clearly stopped.
He nodded his head. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it? Hell, I didn’t think I was stuttering, anyway,” he said with a laugh.
I shifted my eyes to the patch on the front of his cut.
Big Jack.
“Vince,” I said as I extended my hand. “I appreciate it.”
“Jackson,” he said as he shook my hand.
The hair on the back of my neck stood. I hadn’t heard that name since I was a kid.
“You alright, Brother?” he asked as he slapped his hand against my bicep.
“I uhhm. Yeah, yeah, I’m good. So, what’d you do to fix it?” I asked.
“It’s a Mikuni. Someone took the old Keihin carb off and replaced it with a Mikuni, which was a pretty good call if it’s not a stock motor,” he said.
I shook my head and grinned. “It ain’t stock,” I said.
“Well, Mikuni’s are pretty finicky when it comes to dirt. How long you had the bike?” he asked.
“Long god damned time. Fifteen years,” I said.
“Surprised it’s the first time. Just smack the bottom of the float bowl with a screwdriver. The gas is coming out the overflow hose. It’s like a bowl vent. Smacking it’ll fix it every time. Don’t beat on it, just tap it,” he explained.
“Appreciate it, I really do,” I said.
“No problem. Good looking Shovel, though,” he said.
I nodded my head. “I appreciate it. Let me buy your lunch?”
“No need for that,” he said. “Seen Slice?”
“Axton? Yeah, him, Biscuit, Toad, and the big fucker, Otis. They headed out to Benton to the airport,” I said.
He nodded his head and glanced around the shop.
“So, you’re that fella that got out of the joint a month or so back, huh?” I asked.
“You got it,” he said with a nod. “Still getting used to being out in the free world. Just making decisions on my own seems fucking surreal.”
“How long were you down? Sorry, I missed the trial. Voted for you to get your patch and all, but I wasn’t here when you showed up. I kind of do my own deal, you know,” I said.
“Understand that for sure. Been a little of a lone wolf my entire life. I was locked up ten years on a fucking conspiracy to commit murder charge. Got set up by the ATF. Cocksuckers. Slice’s Ol’ Lady wrote an appeal, got my case reheard, and I’ll be god damned if they didn’t let me go,” he said.
I felt like I was talking to a ghost. My father was charged with a conspiracy to commit murder charge by the DEA, which in my mind, was no different than the ATF. Feds were feds. The odds of his name being Jackson, spending time in prison on a conspiracy to commit murder charge, and then to be set up by the feds just seemed…
It seemed strange to even think it, but it was almost as if he was an angel.
“My pop was in the joint on the same charge, the fucking DEA set him up. It was bullshit. He could have talked, but he sat in there, refused to snitch, and they tried to prove a point by keeping him locked down. Only reason they did it was because he was a biker, and was hanging around a bunch of one percenters. They tried to use him to get to the club,” I paused and shook my head.
“He ever get out?” he asked.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest and shook my head. “Died of pneumonia in the joint. This is his old bike.”
“Cool that you kept it. Your pop sounds like a good solid dude. Respectful what he did,” he said.
“Show respect, get respect,” I said.
He turned toward me and cocked an eyebrow. “You been reading my mail?”
I coughed a laugh. “What?”
“Prison saying. Just seems funny. That’s one of my mottos. Show respect, get respect. Been saying that for a long bit,” he said.
“My Pop’s saying, I got it from him,” I said. “He raised me like that. So many of these young fuckers get patched in and don’t give respect. Then they wonder why no one’ll run with ‘em.”
“Damned truth. You’ll never get it if you don’t give it,” he said.
“So, you want to grab a bite?” I asked.
He grinned, nodded his head, and glanced down at the beer can under my bike. “Remember what I said. Move that fucker out first.”
I looked at the stain on the concrete, the half-full can of gas, and realized had he said nothing, I would have hopped on the bike and started it.
“Appreciate it,” I said with a nod.
“Lead the way?” he asked as he walked away.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
I pushed the bike forward, nodded my head, grinned from ear to ear, and responded.
“Follow me.”
SIENNA
I opened the door to the car, got out, and walked up the driveway. I felt out of place without Vince, but I didn’t feel that I was doing anything wrong, it just seemed odd. As I stepped onto the porch, the front door opened.
She stepped onto the porch, wiped her hands on her pants, and opened her arms.
“Come here, Honey,” she said. “Come give me a hug.”
I rushed to her and wrapped my arms around her. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, just let me hold you,” she said.
After a long moment of standing there in her embrace, she released me, took a step back, and studied me. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
I grinned and wiped the tears from my eyes. “You know, I never used to cry.”
“Neither did I,” she said. “But I’ve learned those things change over time.”
I nodded my head and tried to force another smile, but ended up beginning to cry again. Seeing her was just too much. I should have just stayed home.
“So what happened?” she asked as she turned toward the door.
I wiped my hands on my shorts, and shook my head. “I probably shouldn’t come in, he might…”
She paused in the doorway and turned around. “He might what?”
I shrugged. “Come over.”
“Honey, he hasn’t been here since the night you missed dinner. I haven’t spoken to him. This is what he does, he shuts down. Especially when he’s embarrassed or hurt,” she said.
I was shocked. From what Vince had said, he came to his mother’s house every Sunday for dinner. It had been three months since we were apart, and to think I played a part in him severing his relationship and routines with his mother was difficult to accept.
“C
ome on,” she said as she walked into the living room.
With some reluctance, I followed her inside. Feeling nervous and slightly guilty, I sat down on the couch and crossed my legs. She sat down beside me a few feet away, straightened the wrinkles from her pants, and turned toward me. As I stared down at my sneakers, she cleared her throat and began to speak.
“So, that night, what happened?” she asked.
“I reviewed a few books, drank too much wine, and fell asleep until the next morning. When I woke up, I thought it was Sunday night, but after I looked at my phone, I found out it wasn’t, it was Monday,” I said, turning to face her as I finished speaking.
“That’s it? That is what happened?” she asked.
I nodded my head and shifted my eyes to the floor. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“I knew it was something, but I didn’t know what. He left that night to go looking for you, and he called me later and said it was over between you two. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t have it. He never went into detail, and that night was the last I saw of him. He needs his hind end kicked,” she said.
I shifted my eyes toward her and narrowed my gaze. “I can’t believe he hasn’t been back,” I said.
“I can. It’s Stephen,” she said. “The most stubborn human being on God’s little green earth.”
“I just wanted to see you. I miss you,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” she said. “Would you like some tea?”
I glanced at my watch as if I had something else to do.
“No, I really need to go,” I said as I stood.
“So soon?” she asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I uhhm. I have to get home, I have some things I need to get done.”
“I understand. Come back any time,” she said.
I tried my best to smile, but only managed a crooked grin.
“I will,” I said.
But I knew I wouldn’t.
Not without Vince.
VINCE
I’d been running with Jackson on an almost daily basis, and riding with Axton, Otis, Toad, and Biscuit more than I ever had since joining the club. Jackson was what I expected my childhood friend would have been had he not died at such an early age. Stubborn, opinionated, and someone who immediately made me feel as if he would always have my back, regardless.
“So you’re telling me you loved this woman? Truly loved her?” he asked.
I took a drink of my beer and nodded my head. “Yep.”
“Bullshit,” he said.
I shook my head. “Sure isn’t.”
“You still love her?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nope. Can’t do it. She fucked me over.”
After hearing the inspirational story of Jackson and Emily, and how she waited for him for ten years without hearing a word from him, it lifted my spirits enough to tell him about Sienna. He questioned my love, however, because of my ability to walk away after she didn’t show up for dinner. It was without a doubt something he would have never done, and as much as he was harassing me about it, I couldn’t quite figure out what his angle was. All I knew was that the more we talked about it, the guiltier I felt for feeling the way I felt and doing what I had done. Having him give me advice was more like getting it from my father, which made it almost impossible to dispute.
“Have my doubts,” he said sarcastically.
“Doubt me all you want, I know how I feel,” I said.
“Jesus jumped up Christ,” Axton hollered.
“What?” Jackson said over his shoulder.
“Have a fucking look at this, would ya?” he said as he held his cell phone at arm’s length. “Jaye Campbell’s daughter works with this chick. Girl says she wants to suck a biker’s cock and ride on his bike. Wants some of the fellas to go to her tattoo shop and see if there’s any she likes. It’s the place where that kid I was telling you about gave me the tattoo without an appointment.”
“Crazy bitch,” Jackson said with a laugh. “That’ll start a fight for sure.”
“No bullshit. Girl says she wants to meet a few of the fellas.” Axton paused, cleared his throat, and gazed down at his phone. “Take five or six with ya and run over there, would ya?”
“Sure thing, boss,” Jackson said as he turned to face me. “And you’re going to be one of ‘em.”
“Don’t have any business going,” I said.
“You’re going for me to prove a point,” he said.
“What’s the point?” I asked.
“Just do this,” he said. “Come with me and act interested. We’ll have a talk after we get out of there. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to fuck her.”
“Well, I wouldn’t even if you did,” I said.
“You’re coming whether you like it or not,” he said.
After a few minutes, six of us were all saddled up, and headed across town to a tattoo parlor. After passing it, we cut a u-turn in the street, and parked out front at the curb. I got off the bike, turned to face the shop, and stared at the neon sign.
Blurred Lines.
“Cool name for a shop,” I said.
Jackson nodded his head. “I’m gonna get a quote while we’re in here. Come on.”
We all followed him inside, and immediately after going in, the owner noticed Jackson from his childhood. Oddly enough, they grew up together, and hadn’t seen each other for almost twenty years. It seemed Jackson’s presence back in the city was something meant to be, because not only was he helping me deal with many issues and problems, he was clearly making this guy’s day.
The girl from the picture on Axton’s cell phone walked up to the counter where Jackson was standing and raised her hands in the air.
“Listen up,” she hollered. “I don’t ever fuck with anyone but bikers, and I’ll only fuck with a biker if he’s got a big dick. I’ve got a foul mouth, a shitty attitude, and an insatiable desire. I’m no whore, and I won’t be treated like one. If you’re looking to hit it and quit it, you can forget it. I’m not your girl. If you want an Ol’ Lady who’ll out drink ya, out fuck ya, and probably out cuss ya, I’m your girl.”
I stood and stared, half shocked she was so brash. It seemed almost out of character. If I was the type of man to be attracted to someone based on looks alone, she would definitely work for me. She was drop dead gorgeous, had a fabulous body, but it seemed odd hearing her say what she was saying, because she was so damned beautiful.
“How many’s that leave?” she asked.
“Vince?” Jackson said.
I reluctantly stepped to the front and stood with my arms crossed in front of my chest.
“What’s your road name?” the girl asked.
I pointed to my patch. “Vince.”
She started laughing. “That’s your road name?”
Why you little bitch.
“Yep. Name’s Stephen. They call me Vince,” I said.
“You qualified?” she asked.
It was all I could do to keep from smiling. As my mouth curled into a smirk, I responded. “Look, I came up here after Slice showed us your pic at the bar. Thought you were a cute little fucker. Seem a little crazy for my taste now that I’m here.”
She stood and stared, and after a moment, her face washed over with concern. I hated to make her feel bad or that I felt like she was unattractive or something, so I tried my best to make her feel better. “I ain’t lookin’ to add a bunch of drama in my fucking life. Shit, I just got rid of an Ol’ Lady for bein’ a drama queen. Well, that and a whore. Nice to meet ya, though.”
She placed her hands on her waist, cocked her hips to the side, and glared. “I’m not a whore, and I’m not crazy. I’m just some chick that loves bikes, appreciates the freedom of riding, and appreciates one-percenters for being who they are. I’m a lot of fucking fun, really.”
It was apparent she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “What’s a one percenter mean to you? Who am I?” I asked.
“Well, b
eing an outlaw. Fuck the man, fuck society. Riding isn’t a fucking hobby, and it’s not really a way of life, it is life. You see that mountain bike outside?” she asked.
I tilted my head toward the door. “Chained up by the door?”
She nodded her head. “I rode that motherfucker six miles here instead of taking a ride in a cage.”
I nodded my head. “Is that so,” I asked.
She cocked an eyebrow and stared. “So…”
“We’ll go for a ride or something,” I said. “I’ll be back, don’t worry.”
She nodded her head.
“How long you gonna be?” I asked Jackson.
“Gimme ten,” he said.
“Come on, fellas,” I said as I turned toward the door.
We walked outside, stood beside the entrance, and waited. As I leaned against the wall and joked with the fellas about the girl with the purple hair, Jackson walked out.
“Give us a minute, would ya?” he asked the other four men.
They nodded their heads and each got on their bikes.
“So, you think she was pretty?” he asked.
I nodded my head.
“Why didn’t you take her for a ride?” he asked.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest, sighed, and shook my head. It seemed foolish to even discuss.
“I’m not like that,” I said.
He nodded his head. “Only been with two women, right?”
“Yep,” I responded.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Remind me of me, you fucking weird prick.”
“So, answer me this. After seeing this girl, don’t you dare try and tell me a lie, either. What are you…no who are you thinking of?” he asked.
I really didn’t have to give it much thought. “Sienna.”
“And she’s the girl who you say fucked you over?” he asked.
I nodded my head.
“And you don’t love her anymore? You feel nothing?” he asked.
I uncrossed my arms, pressed my hands into my hips and glared at him. “Why in the fuck are you so gung fucking ho to get into my love life?”
Money Shot: Selected Sinners MC Romance Page 19