Athena Sisterhood

by Dharma Kelleher

  She strolled into Gertie’s. It was early evening and the place was only a quarter full.

  “I’m Shea Stevens,” she said to the bartender, a gal with a tattooed flowering vine wrapping around her left arm. “Labrys told me you’d give me instructions.”

  The bartender poured shots for a couple of customers at the end of the bar, then looked up at Shea. “Don’t have any instructions for a Shea Stevens.”

  Shea sighed. “How about for Havoc?”

  The bartender nodded with a knowing smile. “Your instructions are to wait.”

  Shea grimaced. More of Labrys’ power games, no doubt. She ordered a beer and drank it, wishing she were at home with Jessica.

  She didn’t blame Jess for being upset. So far, Shea hadn’t lived up to her promise to spend more time with her and Annie.

  Not that Rios had left her much choice about getting closer to the club. Going back to prison wouldn’t help Jess or Annie. But it was more than that. Shea liked spending time with these women and being part of the MC world again. And if she had to suck it up and endure Labrys’ bullshit for a year as a prospect, maybe it would be worth it in the end.

  Just as Shea was finishing her beer and about to order another, Savage emerged from the hallway that led to the back of the restaurant, a grim expression on her face. “You! Come with me. Now!”

  Shea slapped a fiver on the bar and followed Savage into a large meeting room filled with two dozen members of the Sisterhood. A table had been set at one end, behind which Labrys, Fuego, the club’s VP, and Savage sat. They glared at her as if mad about something she had done.

  What the hell’s going on? Shea wondered.

  Labrys banged the gavel three times. “Havoc, please stand before the officers’ table.”

  Shea complied. What if they didn’t vote me in? What am I gonna tell Rios?

  “Havoc, you have requested to join our ranks despite being a hangaround for only one week. We have discussed your qualifications to be a member of the esteemed Athena Sisterhood Motorcycle Club.” Labrys’ voice was stern and filled with drama. “We know you are a former convict that has engaged in violence on numerous occasions. We are a passionate, but peaceful group that does not take kindly to violent criminals. And yet you have the nerve to ask to join our club. What say you for yourself?” Labrys appeared to be enjoying herself. Maybe too much.

  “You really want me to answer that? Fine.” Shea turned her back on the officers’ table, folded her arms across her chest. “I was born into the MC culture. My asshole father used to be the Thunder’s president. I’ve tangled with them on occasion over the years. And since y’all saw fit to declare yourselves a motorcycle club in their territory, you might want someone who knows what you’re up against.”

  “And how do we know you’ll be loyal to our club?”

  Shea turned and locked eyes with Labrys. “I saved your ass last night, didn’t I? How’s that for loyalty?”

  No one spoke for a few minutes. The smirk on Labrys’ face faded as she nodded to Savage, who picked up a leather cut from under the table. It bore a top rocker patch that read ATHENA SISTERHOOD and a bottom rocker with the word PROSPECT. No club emblem. No MC patch.

  “Havoc,” said Savage, “you are hereby designated a prospect of the central Arizona chapter of the Athena Sisterhood for a period of no less than one year from today.”

  Shea pulled on the cut. It was a little big, but the lacing on the side could be tightened. It felt good even if it was just a prospect’s cut. The Athenas applauded at Labrys’ announcement. Several stood up and hugged her.

  Shea took an empty seat between Indigo and Orphan.

  Indigo gave her a peck on the cheek. “Glad to have you, sister.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, Indigo,” whispered Orphan, “where’s Raven, Pixie, and Goth?”

  Indigo shrugged. “I don’t know. They should’ve been here.”

  Labrys pounded her gavel on the table to get the other women’s attention. The conversations in the room went quiet.

  “Sisters, now that we have that out of the way, a lot of you have asked what happened to my face. I’m here to tell you. We are at war. Not with the enforcers of the corporate glass ceiling or the good ol’ boy network down in our state legislature. We are at war with the Confederate Thunder.”

  A murmuring rose in the room.

  “They have attacked us in this very bar. They ambushed us at Bike Night. I suspect they murdered Pipes. And yesterday they tried to kill me. Thankfully, Havoc, our new prospect, was there to stop them.”

  Labrys stood up, a pained expression on her face. Shea suspected she was still hurting from the day before. “Why is the Thunder so hell-bent on shutting us down? We represent a threat to their drug dealing, gun running, and womanizing. Our refusal to submit to their authority is a slap in their sexist faces. They call us disrespectful. They claim we don’t know what we’re doing.”

  Shouts of anger and profanity erupted from the group.

  “So far, the cops have done little to help us, claiming they don’t have enough proof. They’ve all but written off Pipes’ death as a simple overdose. Meanwhile, the Thunder is free to deal drugs and assault us without consequences. Well, I for one will not stand for it. They can break my nose and bruise my ribs, but I will not back down.”

  “Hell yeah!” shouted Savage.

  “Fuck the cops!” added another member of the club. “Fuck the Thunder!”

  “The Thunder has declared war on us. They are vicious. They are experienced. And they are armed. But we are women. We’ve been fighting for our right to exist since the beginning of time. They may be vicious, but we are tough. They may be experienced, but we are smart. And they aren’t the only ones who know how to fire a gun. Together, we will stand up to these bullies and show them that the Athena Sisterhood isn’t afraid of anyone.”

  Cheers and applause shook the room.

  “Havoc!” Labrys pointed to Shea. The room went silent.

  “Yeah?”

  “Your first duty as a prospect is to find us some tables out in the bar. Now move your ass. I’m thirsty.”

  Chapter 26

  Shea walked out of Gertie’s into the cold to clear her mind from the effects of the four beers and three shots of tequila she’d had.

  During a conversation with some of the Athenas, Indigo admitted she didn’t currently have a job and yet somehow often could afford to go out dancing a few times a week. Plus there was a peculiar guardedness about her that set off red flags in Shea’s mind. Indigo was hiding something. Is she the one dealing drugs at local clubs?

  Nearby laughter down the street caught Shea’s attention. A group of hefty leather-clad men stood outside the Bear’s Den, a men’s bar. A familiar figure caused Shea’s jaw to drop. She rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t imagining this. Under the bright overhead lights illuminating the front of the bar, Monster stood making out with a Hispanic man.

  “Holy shit.” The Thunder would kill him if they knew. His wife wouldn’t be too thrilled either.

  She pulled up the hood of her armored hoodie and slipped out her phone, opening the camera app with the flash turned off. With her heart hammering in her chest, she strode past the men and discreetly snapped a couple of photos of Monster and the other man. They paid her no attention, too wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

  A few doors down, Shea stopped to examine the photos. The first was a little blurry, but the second clearly showed Monster locking lips with his lover. The sign for the Bear’s Den glowed in the background.

  Under normal conditions, Shea would never out someone, not even the deeply closeted right-wing hypocrites who spouted homophobic rhetoric by day while cruising clubs at night.

  But these weren’t normal conditions. The Thunder would be coming after her. So if she had to blackmail Monster into getting the club to back off, so be it.

  She texted the photo to Monster with the message: Naughty little Monster. Call me.
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  She followed that with a copy to Labrys saying they now had some leverage against Thunder retaliation.

  —

  Shea stumbled through the dark house, the booze in her system causing her to slam against the wall and into the breakfast bar. Probably shouldn’t have driven home like this, she thought.

  Chlöe Stansbury’s patronizing voice echoed in her mind: Alcoholism can destroy your life.

  Fuck Chlöe Stansbury and her fucking pink café racer. I made it home in one piece. And I caught a photo of Monster making out with another man.

  She stumbled and face-planted on the carpet. “Shhh!” she said to no one.

  Glad that Jessica wasn’t waiting up for her, she pulled herself to her feet and debated whether she should crash on the couch or risk sneaking into bed.

  Jessica’s gotta understand I’m doing what I have to do. Surely she can’t still be mad. And even if she is, so what? This is my fucking house. I’m sleeping in my goddamn bed.

  In the bedroom, Jessica snored quietly. Shea tossed her hoodie and prospect cut onto the floor and fell against the dresser as she pulled off her boots. Twice she misentered the combination of the small gun safe on the upper shelf of her closet. Once opened, she locked her pistol inside.

  “Shea? You home?” Jessica’s voice was muffled by her pillow.

  Shea shimmied out of her clothes and slipped into bed. “Yeah. It’s me.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Late.” The bed was starting to spin. “Hoo boy!”

  “I really missed you tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  Jessica turned toward her. “So you are a prospect now, huh?”

  “Yeppers.”

  “This mean you’ll be out drinking till all hours every night?”

  “Nah, baby. I didn’t mean to stay so long, but…ugh.” She paused, trying to control the bed spins. “But I think I know who’s selling hex at the clubs.”

  “Who?”

  “Wait, uh, what’s her name? Indigo. Yeah, that’s it. Indigo, that fiend.”

  “The sister I met at Bike Night with the butch girlfriend? Why her?”

  The vertigo began to fade. “No job, but all the time she’s going out, partying, drinking. I mean, who does that with no job, right? Also she drives this new fancy schmancy BMW K1600GT. Fucking six-cylinder behemoth. All farkled up. Akrapovič exhaust, custom saddle, and all these electronic gizmos. Shit.”

  “She could have bought the bike before she lost her job. Or maybe her girlfriend paid for it.”

  “Maybe. But all night long, she kept excusing herself to take private calls. When I asked her what’s up, she got all squirrelly. Like she’s hiding something. I just know it’s her.”

  “You really think the Confederate Thunder would have sold hex to a black member of a rival club?”

  “When it comes to drugs, the only color the Thunder cares about is green. I’m telling you, something hinky is going on with that girl.”

  “So what do you plan to do?”

  “I need to get proof! Proof she’s dealing.”

  “The last time you tried to prove someone was selling drugs, you and your ex got beat up and a Thunderman got killed. How long before the Thunder comes after you?”

  “Ahhh…I have a solution to that. I saw Monster tonight.” A satisfied smile crept across Shea’s face.

  “What’d he say?”

  “Didn’t say nothing.” Shea giggled. “I just took his picture.”

  “His picture? I don’t understand.”

  Shea reached down to the floor. The bed spins started up again. She steadied herself, pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket, and showed the photo to Jessica. “How’s that for some proof?”

  Jessica squinted as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the phone’s screen. “Is that Monster? Kissing a guy? I thought he was married. And straight.”

  “He is. But he is outside the Bear’s Den next to Gertie’s. That dirty, dirty boy!”

  “Oh my! What are you going to do with the photo?”

  “I’m gonna tell him that the Thunder better leave me and the Sisterhood alone. Otherwise, I’m gonna let the Thunder in on his secret.”

  “What’ll the Thunder do if they learn he’s gay?”

  “Kick him out of the club. Kill him. Who knows?”

  “Shea, I don’t like this. Outing a man knowing they’ll kill him for it? That’s not right.”

  “Better him than us.”

  “And the guy he’s kissing? Would they kill him, too?”

  Shea laid the phone on the nightstand. Her eyelids felt heavy. “I don’t know, Jessica. Right now I’m too tired and too drunk…”

  Jessica said something about coming up with an answer soon, but Shea was already drifting off.

  Chapter 27

  “What the hell is that?” asked Terrance the following morning as Shea walked in and hung her hoodie and prospect cut on the coatrack in the Iron Goddess office.

  “What?” Her head ached from the previous night’s drinking. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot Terrance had made.

  “You know damn well what. That vest. We agreed: no club colors. That includes you.”

  “I’m not wearing it. I hung it up.”

  Despite her suggestion that the Athenas lay low, Labrys had insisted the sisters—patched and prospect alike—wear their cuts whenever they rode. As if this show of solidarity would intimidate the Thunder.

  So for now, she was wearing her prospect cut. Under her hoodie. It might get her booted from the club, but it might also save her life.

  Terrance harrumphed as he sipped his coffee. “Since when are you a member of the Sisterhood anyway?”

  “Since last night. I got voted in as a prospect.”

  Lakota appeared in the open doorway. “Shea, someone pulled up to the garage asking for you.”

  Shea grinned. Monster.

  “Who is it?” asked Terrance warily.

  “One of her Athena Sisterhood buddies from the looks of it.”

  Shea’s smile faded. “Oh. Okay, I’ll be right down.”

  “Shea, don’t get messed up in something you can’t get out of.”

  “Hey, that’s what I’m best at.” Shea took a long drag on her coffee before shuffling through the service bay.

  Outside the garage doors, Indigo sat tall on her black and electric-blue BMW K1600GT. She wore a matching modular helmet with the front tipped up. “Morning, Havoc.”

  “Morning, Indigo.” Shea had to admit it was a beautiful bike. Amazing what a little drug money can buy you. “What can I do for you?”

  “The custom saddle I had made was supposed to include the heater that came with the original seat. But so far, it doesn’t seem to put out any heat. I was wondering if you could take a look.”

  “Where’d ya have the custom seat made?”

  “Ojai, California. And I don’t feel like driving out there. When I lived down in Phoenix, I went to MotoGhost for service. But since I moved to Bradshaw City, I can’t find anyone that’ll work on a Beemer. Can you help me out? I can pay cash.”

  “I’ll have my crew take a look at it. Follow me to the sales counter. We’ll get your work order written up.”

  Indigo dismounted her bike and followed Shea through the service bay, past the office, and into the showroom. “Wow, there really are some nice bikes here.”

  “Thanks. We try,” said Shea as they arrived at the sales counter. “Lemme get your info, so I can put your real name and address in the computer.”

  Indigo set her driver’s license on the counter, then pulled out a packet of tissues and blew her nose. She wasn’t looking too good. Face ashen. Eyes watery. Is it a cold? The flu? Withdrawal?

  Shea glanced at the ID as she typed the information into the system. “Zia Pearson. Cool name.”

  “Thanks,” said Indigo. “I prefer Indigo though.”

  “How’d you get that road name?”

  “My mother had
a dress when I was a kid. The deepest blue I’d ever seen. I loved it. Just something magical about the hue. I asked her what color it was and she said indigo. Been my favorite ever since. Every time I see that color, I think of her.”

  “She still alive?” From her tone, Shea had a feeling Indigo’s mother was dead.

  “Naw, she died when I was thirteen.”

  Shea frowned. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, it was rough. My daddy did all right, though we don’t speak much anymore.”

  “Oh? How come?” He not approve of your involvement in the drug trade?

  “Different journeys, different values,” Indigo said with a dismissive shrug. She sneezed.

  Shea winced as she felt the spray hit her in the face.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I think I’m coming down with something. I hope you don’t get sick.”

  Shea wiped her face with a nearby shop rag and forced a smile. “Hey, it happens. No big deal. I’ll have my electronics specialist take a look at your saddle, see what’s up with the heater. You got a ride or d’you wanna wait for it?”

  “I’ll wait for it. I got nowhere to be this morning.”

  Shea pointed to the corner in the back of the store. “Waiting room’s over there. Coffee’s fresh. TV works most of the time.”

  “I appreciate it, Shea. I’m so glad you’re a part of the Sisterhood.”

  “Me, too,” said Shea. But maybe not for the reasons you think, she thought.

  Shea returned to the service bay and handed the work order to Switch. “See if you can figure out why the heater’s not working on this custom saddle.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Good. Everything kosher between you and Kyle?”

  “I’m not Jewish. I’m Latina,” said Switch with a straight face.

  “Of course. My mistake. You two getting along?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?”

  Shea opted not to answer. “Let me know when you’ve fixed the heated seat. Client’s waiting on it.”