Love, Loyalty & Mayhem: A Motorcycle Club Romance Anthology

by Ryan Michele

  “Hi Ameline,” I backpedal. “Nice to see you, too.” The years have been kind to her. Her dark hair is slightly lighter with a few sprigs of gray, popping from the knot at the top of her head, but nothing else has changed much.

  "Did you lose those manners I taught you out in California, Beauregard Lee Martin?" Full name. Ouch. She moves me out of the way and stirs the boil, teasing me at my failure to sample the goods. I spy Remy leaning against the doorframe of the house with a satisfied smirk on her face. After all these years, she's still a snitch. Ameline places the spoon onto the table and turns back to us.

  “You going to introduce me to your friend?” She asks, wiping her hand on the towel hanging from her apron. “Or did you forget how to do that, too?”

  "Mama, cut the shit," Remy calls from the porch. “Stop trying to scare Presley off.”

  “You watch your mouth, baby girl. You know I don’t like you cussin’. It ain’t ladylike.”

  Remy shoves off from the front porch and joins us. "That ship sailed a long time ago, Mama." Ameline mumbles under her breath. I barely catch what she’s saying, but I’m almost positive I heard a ‘wash your mouth out with soap’ in there somewhere. That is something that I would pay to see. At least, five bucks anyway for Ameline to give Remy a country ass whopping with a bar of lye soap.

  “Ameline, I'd like you to meet, Presley," I interject to diffuse the situation and to save that pot of boil from going to waste. I place my hand on the small of her back and gently nudge her forward. Presley stretches out her hand to my step-mom, and Ameline eyes it, before taking it, giving her a firm shake.

  “It’s nice to see you didn’t bring home some stick thin blonde bimbo,” Ameline remarks.

  “Jesus, Mama,” Remy swears. “Not all people from California are what you see on television.”

  Ameline raps Remy on the hand with her wooden spoon. How she grabbed it that fast that even I didn’t notice is one of the motherly wonders of the world. “What did I say about swearing?” It takes everything I have not to laugh out loud, as I watch Remy nurse her hand, and Ameline heads back into the house without another word.

  “Well, that went well,” Presley remarks with a slight edge of sadness in her voice. I tug on her, pulling her into me and engulfing her in my arms, trying to ease her nerves. I want to pull her aside and reassure her that Remy was right, but before I can, a steady stream of women start coming out of the house with plates and bowls of food in their arms. Remy jogs up to the porch and grabs one from her mom's hand. The tables fill quickly with enough food to feed an army, and once everyone is back outside, Kitty emerges. She mutters a quick grace, before the feeding frenzy begins. Being the guests of honor, Presley and I push to the front of the line. Presley eyes each item carefully, asking questions as we go down the path. Satisfied with her selections, we find an open table and are soon joined by Remy and a couple of her club sisters.

  “Forgive my mama,” Remy chimes in, as she sits down. “Ever since my daddy died, it takes her a little while to warm up to people, especially someone who comes from the MC life. Give her time, and she’ll figure out you’re one of the good ones.”

  Presley nods. I already filled her in about Remy's past history with her father's MC, and how she and Ameline were thrown out of the club, before Rene's body was even cold. She has lived a rough life and being cautious about a newcomer comes with that territory. Thankfully, Remy hadn't fallen in line with the same mindset. She took the cards that she was dealt and built an empire around her. She thrived in it. Much like I did. Being in an MC, wasn't exactly where I saw myself, when a job offer came from Raze’s security firm. I was a kid fresh out of college with nothing holding me back, so I took what was offered to me and ran with it. I was happy. Just like Remy. I only hope that Ameline will find her happiness to someday.

  We fall into casual conservation easily. Remy talks about the new things her club has lined up, and the business they'd purchased over the years, until she turns her sights back on Presley with a million and one questions of her own. Presley takes them with ease and makes me smile, while I watch her open up to Remy. Just as we are about finished eating, my nephew comes stumbling out of the house, lazily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It's not until the last step that he spies me.

  “Uncle Beau!” He screams, running towards me, and barreling into me like a ton of bricks.

  "Hey B," I smile, squeezing him tightly back. He releases me and instantly notices Presley beside me. Beaux shoves away from me and goes directly towards her, giving her a hug even more prominent than mine. The damn kid is named after me, and I'm chopped liver next to her. Figures, but I can't fault him for that. I'd have done the same thing, if I were in his shoes.

  Presley gives her first genuine smile, since we got here. Leave it to my nephew to bring that out in her. “How did you get her? She’s pretty,” he remarks, as he shoves me down to sit between us.

  “Well B, let me tell you a little story. Once upon a time, there was a man who decided to stalk a woman online for a friend," I start, before both Remy and Presley stop me from continuing the story. That's okay. I'll just save it for another time, like bedtime, when Remy isn’t watching.

  4

  Presley

  I wake up, finding Beau’s place next to mine in the bed empty.

  After our meal with his family last night, I barely remember Remy driving us back to our hotel or passing out in the softest bed I’ve ever slept in. The whirlwind of our flight and the very crazy dinner was exhausting. Both physically and mentally. My trepidations about Remy weren’t justified, but his former step-mom is a completely different story. There is something there, and a calling to dig deeper. Maybe it’s the therapist in me, but she has piqued a nagging interest inside of me. I just can’t act on it. Ameline is not a patient, and I can’t overstep my bounds approaching her. Not when her approval means so much to Beau. I’ll find a way to prove myself to her, even if it kills me.

  "Good morning, beautiful," Beau's voice calls out from the open balcony door of our hotel, as he leans against the frame with only a pair of pajama pants riding low on his hips. His lean body on full display. “Ready for breakfast?” I lick my lips at the sight of him, and he takes an instant notice, as a wicked idea pops into my head. One way too corrupt for me. Screwing around on that balcony in the light of day will definitely have to be stowed on the back burner. Getting a public lewdness charge is not on my vacation checklist. Not now, or not ever.

  Slowly walking towards me, he exaggerates his steps. Beau pauses just at the edge, leaning down to kiss me quickly, brushing his finger across my lips, as he steps back. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but whatever it is, I think I like it.”

  “Come back to bed and find out.”

  He rips the covers off of me, and I scrunch up my face in pretend anger at him. So much for spending the day in bed. Sleeping in is one of those guilty pleasures I never seem to get anymore, and while I had hopes that would be the case while we are on vacation, it seems I’m very, very wrong. Damnit.

  “As much as I would like to do whatever that deliciously dirty mind of yours has thought up, Presley, we have a city explore. So, get your ass up, and go get ready. New Orleans is waiting.”

  I could protest, and I know I could change his mind about leaving the hotel, but that's not why we are here. And on the flip side, a little sightseeing might just be the trick to distract me from the Ameline problem. Beau plops another kiss on my cheek, before he starts towards the attached bathroom in our room.

  “And where do you think you’re going?”

  “Shower.”

  “But I thought maybe we could shower together." He immediately stops dead in his tracks. Got him. He pivots on his heels and grins back at me, as he roughly rubs his hand across his face, while I giggle at his frustration. If I know him as well as I think I do, then he and his own internal committee are trying to think of a way that we can both get what we want. "Well?"

  “Qui
t tempting me, woman. Go eat, before I change my mind.”

  "Fine," I sigh, slipping from the bed and returning the favor from his teasing this morning with a more significant than usual sway of my hips. I peer over my shoulder and notice him biting his knuckle, before disappearing into the bathroom. Can't say I didn't try. Stepping out on the balcony, the warm and humid air wraps around me, and the table in front of me is filled with breakfast cakes and coffee. It’s the breakfast of champions.

  I pick a cake covered in powdered sugar and pop it into my mouth, and a cloud of powder puffs out in front of me, when I chew. It's absolutely delicious with its warm and gooey center. I finger the handle of the coffee and bring it to my lips. It’s a heavenly scent, if I ever smelled one. The first sip is very surprising. Slightly spicier than regular coffee, but still good. I lean against the railing, while I take another sip, taking in my surroundings. Old, tall buildings surround our balcony, and I spot the belfry of the cathedral a few blocks away from our hotel. The city is quieter than I expected this time of morning, but by the time I finish my coffee, a few people are beginning to trickle down the streets below.

  “How’d you like it?’ Beau asks from behind me, toweling off his hair from just inside the door. “Good, right?”

  “It is. Chicory?” I ask, and he nods back his affirmation. “Not bad. Little different, but I can see why you like it so much.”

  "Tastes like home." He takes the cup from my hand and sits it down on the table beside him. Beau tugs me forward into his warm body, and the fresh scent of his woodsy body wash fills my nostrils. "Thank you for coming with me.”

  “This is your home. Of course, I wanted to see it.”

  “About that,” he smiles down at me. “Better go get ready. Our first tour starts in an hour. I promised an abbreviated adventure of what this city has to offer, didn’t I? We have a plantation tour and swamp ride awaiting us.” He releases me with a slight reluctance to his grasp. “I’m going to head downstairs and make a couple of calls. Raze left me a voicemail. Might have an update for getting Slider out early.”

  Slider, the club's oldest prospect, traded himself for Beau, when Ginny and I were being hunted. Every second he’s in that prison for Beau's crimes, it haunts him. He has worked tediously to figure out how to reduce the sentence. Slider doesn’t deserve to be there, and if anyone can make it happen, it’s Beau and my brother. It’s just taking longer than either of them had anticipated.

  Beau slips from the room, and I make quick work of a hot shower and getting dressed. Being this warm already, I grab a pair of jean shorts and a pink tank top, and I don't even bother drying my hair. The second the humidity peaks it’s going to be a frizzy wreck anyway, so I just twist it up into a wet bun.

  My phone dings on the nightstand with a time warning from Beau, so I fire back a sass-filled response. A year together, and he still thinks pushing will make me move faster. Maybe slower. Grabbing my purse and tossing on the flip flops I wore on the plane, I exit our room and head downstairs. I find Beau typing away furiously on his phone without any notice of my presence.

  “Good news?” I ask.

  “Lawyer got a meeting with the Feds set-up. Should know something in a few days.” I know he’s not satisfied with the outcome. He wants him free, and every day he’s still there, eats at him. Ratchet’s disdain for the fact that his sister was whisked back into protective custody, is making it even worse. The Zezza empire had done its toll on us all. The sooner both Slider and Ginny are back under the club’s roof, the better it will be for us all.

  Beau pockets his phone, when a bus pulls up to the front of our hotel. The bright red letters on the side gives it away as our ride. With his hand on my back, he leads me to the bus. A few more people from our hotel join us, and we take off for our first destination. The Louisiana countryside is not what I had pictured. The wide-open spaces are a stark contrast to the crowded city with sprawling estates, antebellum homes, and the large dams on the side of the Mississippi River, making you nearly feel like you are going back in time. We pass various plantations, until we arrive at our destination. The Whitney Plantation. This spot was my only request for our trip. Many of the plantations in the south focus on the families, and their lives there. The Whitney's story comes from the other side of our country’s brutal and inhumane past from the perspective of the slaves.

  The stories our tour guide tells are emotional. Stories of pain, suffering, and for some, death. Listening to their stories, seeing their living conditions, and walking the grounds where so many before us were enslaved humbles me. Reading about our history is one thing, but walking where they walked is the exact opposite. While my heart is filled with sadness by the time our tour is over, I’m glad we came. We load onto the bus, heading towards our next stop a swamp, and Beau's choice for our activities for today. Why he wants to ride on a boat in alligator infested waters is beyond me, but a deal is a deal.

  The swamp tour is a bit more fun than I want to admit. Watching our boat driver, Captain Dan, and his animated stories about local lore, and his vampire friend, Miss Vicky, brings a smile back to my face. Even more so, when he pulls a baby alligator out of a cooler near the wheel and lets anyone who is brave enough hold him. Beau, of course, takes it upon himself to not only take a gator selfie, but to kiss the animal on the nose, while shoving his phone into my hands for another picture. The couple sitting behind us also make sure to photobomb it.

  After leaving the tour and arriving back at our hotel, we head towards the French Quarter, walking hand in hand in the oldest part of the city, before popping into a local restaurant for dinner. The food, the music, and the drinks are a perfect end to a perfect day.

  5

  Voodoo

  Our last day in New Orleans, comes far too quickly. Had the potential break in Slider’s case not have come up, I would have opted to talk to Presley about staying a couple of extra days. There’s so much more here I want to show her, but at least for this trip, we can’t swing it. With just one day left, I have a few things that I need to do. Things that I’ve been dreading for a very long time. I waited until dinner last night to drop them on Presley, but true to herself, she was far more understanding than I expected her to be. It’s not every day that your boyfriend takes you on a date to a romantic restaurant and drops the bomb on you that he wants to go see his dead parents in the cemetery. She took my request all in stride. Subtly really isn’t my thing, and damn, am I glad that Presley already buckled up into the crazy train that is my life.

  The gravel of the walking paths into the cemetery crunch under our feet, as we slowly walk hand in hand towards a place that I haven’t visited, since Dad was buried next to Mom. I was man enough to admit that it hurt being an orphan. Yeah, I had Ameline and Remy to lean on in the family department, but it isn’t the same.

  I lead Presley down a row, until we finally find them. A fresh bouquet of flowers lies neatly in front of their crypt. Remy’s doing no doubt.

  We stand in silence for a few moments, while I try to find the right words to say, but nothing comes out. Not a damn word. It would take two hands and then some to count the number of times I’ve cursed their names for leaving me to fend for myself. The drunk driver wasn't their fault. I know that, but the pain of having to grow up without them, despite how shitty their parenting skills were, wasn't easy.

  Presley stands next to me, stroking my back in comforting circles, until I can't take it anymore. We exit the cemetery just as a band enters with a horse-drawn casket being pulled behind them.

  "It's okay to miss them, Beau," Presley says, when we finally get far enough away from the cemetery, where the swirling coil of pain and anger inside of me dissipates. Her timing is too perfect to be a coincidence. No wonder her patients love her.

  “I know. Thank you for going with me.”

  “Where you go, I go.” I can tell she means every single word too. Presley’s convictions are stronger than anyone else’s I know. Even stronger than her demanding brot
her.

  “So glad you said that,” I interject to change gears. “Remy’s shop isn’t far from here, and I want to pop in on her, before we leave.”

  "I'd like to see it." Her voice is confident in her answer.

  “Really?” I question with a slight edge of confusion. “No hesitations?”

  “Not a one.”

  I can’t help myself, when my next question comes barreling out at warp speed. “What changed?”

  “Our talk, and texting with Remy.”

  “When did you get her number?”

  “At the dinner the other night. We’ve been talking.”

  “About… "I trail off. “Me?”

  “Narcissist much?” She teases. “About everything really. Club life. Being on the outside. All of it. Remy’s really given me the perspective I was missing.”

  "As long as it helps you," I declare, pulling her against me. "Just don't go sharing secrets about me. She doesn't need any more blackmail than she already has."

  “Too late,” she grins. “I know all about your crush on Betty White, and your obsession with the Golden Girls, when you were a kid. Are you planning on dressing up as Blanche soon for Halloween? I want to make sure that I have my camera ready."

  “I’m going to kill her,” I growl, but even I have to admit that Remy's effect on her has been a positive one. I just have to figure out how exactly to keep the blackmail material at a minimum. Remy knows too much to be providing Presley with historical tidbits to share with the rest of the club. Hero and Ratchet don’t need anything else to help out their comedic cause against me.

  Presley regals me with all of the things that Remy has told her about me, while we walk towards her shop. For each of her transgressions, revenge will be coming back two-fold. Beaux is the perfect age to embarrass the hell out of his mom with a few well-timed outbursts of randomness. Wonder how she would like it, when he announces all about her balloon collection that actually turned out to be condoms? I doubt even Ameline knows about that one. Payback will undoubtedly be a bitch, if she keeps it up.