by Amber Burns
7
I was surprised to see the clubhouse empty when I got there. It was the first time that I had come into the clubhouse on my own without having work involved. I wasn’t prepared for the lack of people. I went to the kitchen where Cindy seemed to be preparing a lunch menu. Without question, I went about making sure the oil in the fryer was clean and doing what I could to help her. It helped alleviate the the sting I still felt.
“I’m not going to tell you not to help me,” she grumped as she cleaned and prepared chicken wings.
“I don’t have anything better to do,” I barked back as I went into the freezer for french fries. “Besides I figure if I hang out in here enough, I’ll learn how to cook something.”
“No one,” she said without giving me a second thought. “Gets my recipes.”
I nodded like it was something important and we went through the motions of getting ready for lunch. We had the wings cooked, and she was coating them in her secret sauce that she had chased me out of the kitchen so she could make. It was an hour’s worth of work, but it helped with the distraction.
“Why are you doing this?” She gave me a narrowed eyed look as if she thought I was up to no good.
“I needed something to do,” I admitted. “And I have the day off from the shop.”
“Aren’t you hung over?”
“Not enough to stay in bed,” I shrugged. “I had a headache, but after enough water and some Motrin I’m functional.” I shot her a look. “They say in the Military if you drink enough water and take Motrin you’ll be fine. Break a limb? Take Motrin with a lot of water. Shoot yourself in the foot? Motrin with water. Every time, I shit you not.”
It was a joke, something for small talk, but also a sad truth.
“You're not the first to tell me this story,” she grunted and peered out the window. “Early birds are here so start prepping baskets for me.”
I nodded and started laying out the little cardboard baskets for wings and fries. “How much do you get paid for this?” I asked out of curiosity.
Cindy snorted, “Do you ever see money change hands, boy?”
That stopped me. She wasn’t getting paid. Then how did they get the money for all this food? What about the beer? I looked about the kitchen and didn’t see any of the signage about health code or any sort of licensing. So, she fed all these men and got nothing? I opened my mouth to ask, but she cut me off.
“Don’t you worry about it, it’s handled. Now either get to work or get out of the way,” she snipped at me.
“Who are you talking to?” Eddie came into the kitchen looking as if he were still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His sunglasses were set on top of the rag that he had covering the majority of his hair, the rest tied back in a ponytail. He saw me and whistled, “If you are trying to get into Cindy’s panties, buddy, I can tell you that’s a steel trap you’re not getting into. I’ve been trying for years, and she don’t budge for nobody.”
I tried not to balk because that hadn’t been my intention. I had come to the club looking for a distraction. I worked this hard to get here, so I figured I was entitled to come here.
“I needed something to do,” I started.
“Van Cleave if you don’t get out of here,” she pulled out a chef’s knife from the butcher block. “You’ll be on the menu for dinner.”
He let out a huff as if her threat was proving a point, “See what I mean, newbie. She’s shut tighter than a sub going under. Let’s get out before she shows us just how good she can use a knife.”
Eddie started backing out of the kitchen with his hands raised up as if she was pointing a gun at him instead of a knife. I snorted but made sure I had a decent amount of baskets out for Cindy when she the wings ready to be plated. I followed Eddie out after wiping my hands clean.
“Something going on?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Nah, man,” he led me around the bar. “I saw your bike, and I thought I’d track ya down. What’re you doing back there in the kitchen?” He shot me a grin, “You get the grunt work pounded into your head so much that you still going back to it?”
“When I got here no one else was here so I thought I’d hit the kitchen,” I brushed a hand through my hair. “I didn’t think it would matter.”
“Aw it doesn’t, I’m sure Cindy appreciates the help,” he shrugged off my explanation. “I’m betting she got used to you and Dan being back there doing all the dirty work.”
“Why not hire more people to help her?”
“Dude this isn’t a restaurant,” he looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “People don’t just come in off the street for lunch. Unless you gotta old lady willing to work the kitchen with Cindy, the only time she’s gonna get help is when we got prospects to do the work.” He led me outside the clubhouse to the lot, “It’s her duty, and she does it like a champ.”
Without getting paid, I grimaced as the idea behind that just seemed horrible. Granted, you learned just out of boot camp that if you did the math combined with the hours you worked your paycheck hardly seemed to add up. I guessed the income from the shop could help pay for the food.
“What are we doing now?” I asked, looking for something else to talk about.
“Going for a ride, baby,” he grinned at me. “You said you were looking for a distraction. Whelp, you just volunteered yourself for a ride through the territory. We got to make sure that shit is on the up and up.”
“What does that mean?” I didn’t bother to cover my confusion as I went to my bike. “Territory?”
“You know,” he climbed onto his chopper. “We ride around town and make sure no one is trying to move in on what’s ours. This is pretty easy shit there, newbie. Consider it like we’re on duty for making sure the perimeter is clear. Gotta keep the base safe.”
Van Cleef put his helmet on and kicked his motorcycle to life. The roar of the machine didn’t really give me the chance to ask more questions, so I followed suit. He took me on a similar path to that first night. We rode together side by side for the majority of the way. Eddie didn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry either, it was like he was taking in the scenery, though there wasn’t much to see. That’s when things started to click, and I felt like a dumbass for not realizing what he was saying. We were scoping out the territory to make sure no other club was trying to get in. He even used Army terms when it was obvious that I wasn’t getting it.
For the sake of the ride through I made sure that I kept my eyes peeled for anything that might look even remotely suspicious. Not just for the undercover bit. Eddie was striving to make sure the clubhouse stayed safe, so the group stayed safe. We were guarding base. From what I didn’t know, but I figured I’d get a debrief on it when we got back. Everything was so easy going, I didn’t think we had enemies.
The ride took a little more than an hour to do. It was enough to clear my head of any lingering effects from the hangover. I felt pretty good by the time we rolled back into the lot. There were a lot more motorcycles present, and it was clear that not everyone was an early riser. Personally, I hadn’t shaken the habit, yet.
The inside was as busy as any restaurant would be. I saw Danny laughing at a table with two other members I hadn’t met. I started to go to join them. I had slaved next to Danny, and I wanted to see how he was handling the day after being patched. But Eddie caught my arm and directed me to an empty table. He sat and motioned for me to do the same. Without many options, I did.
“So,” he relaxed back into the chair. “Questions. You have em?”
“A few,” I sat down and tried my best to not fidget. “I get the reason for the ride through,” I shrugged a little. “Is there a reason that you took me on it?”
“A couple of reasons,” he nodded. “We are a club for vets and retirees. But, there’s a little bit more to it. You could call us a support system, I don’t know if you’ve gone over to the sandbox... but some guys that do don’t come back the same. We got a few guys that worked in counseling or some shi
t. They usually offer an ear if you need it.” I nodded, though that didn’t really answer my question. “There are groups out there that aren’t like us. They get together, and they make a ruckus for the fuck of it. That’s fine until they start getting the attention of five-o. Yanno?”
“We’re not doing anything that would garner the attention of the police,” I pointed out.
There was something about that, something in his expression twitched. Most people have tells when they’re lying. I had admitted myself that I was a horrible liar. But there was this twitch on Eddie’s expression, there was a whole lot more here than I was seeing.
“That’s right,” he said with a grin.
That made me wonder, and I glanced around the clubhouse. I took in the other groups of men milling about. What were they really doing here?
“So man,” Eddie leaned onto the table and drew my attention back to him. “Why did you need a distraction?”
I decided to bite, figuring that whatever it was that was lying beneath the surface here would come up sooner or later. I rolled a shoulder, trying to come up with the best way to figure out shit with Tara. I figured talking about it couldn’t hurt. “I had a … private celebration when I got home last night.”
Eddie looked surprised, “I didn’t realize you had an old lady.”
I shook my head, “We’re not actually dating. Just a girl I’ve been,” I waved a hand as I searched for the word.
Lusting over? I hadn’t known her long enough for it to be lust… had I? I had only known her for about two weeks before all of this even started, and I hadn’t really gotten to spend quality time with Tara to get to know her. But I saw her regularly while I was still a prospect and there had been that little something that had gone through me each time she had been at my apartment to check up on me.
“Wanting?” he supplied. “I see you struggling. Must be bad, too. It's just to the point you don’t know if you want to call her your old lady or not?”
I grimaced, “She said it was a mistake.”
“Oh damn,” he winced and then shook his head. “Was it bad?”
“I feel bad.”
“No the sex,” he frowned at me and sat back, eyeing me like I might have suddenly decided to eat crayons. “Did you not throw it good or something for her to call it a mistake?”
“Wait,” I waved a hand. “Why are you assuming it would be because of bad sex?”
“You give it to a woman good enough, and she won’t say the sex was a mistake,” he still had that expression on his face. “You throw it good enough she might even come back for seconds.”
I never had complaints before, granted I wasn’t really someone to go out and have casual sex. But with the few women I had been with they never complained. I looked at him, realizing there might have been something to what he was saying.
“I was drunk,” I offered.
He whistled, “So it must’ve been really bad. Do… do you know how to throw it?”
“What?” I sat back and glared at him now. “The hell kind of question is that? I made sure she got off first,” I snapped at him.
“Hey, man calm down,” he smirked at me. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Yeah?” I felt a little frustrated with him. “How would you feel if I questioned your uh… throwing game?”
Eddie snorted in laughter at me. “Don’t take it so seriously. If you were drunk, then you really don’t know if she enjoyed it or not. Women are fucking actresses sometimes when it comes to sex. The only way to know you’re hitting it good is that unfiltered shit… and really, it's hard to tell then too. If shits good you’re probably going to struggle to keep from busting it anyway,” he rubbed his neck as he considered me. “To tell you the truth all you can do is wait her out. This just happened last night?”
I nodded, still sore with what he implied.
“So she said it was a mistake just this morning?”
I nodded again as I considered what he was saying.
“Then man, she probably didn’t intend to hand it over,” I blinked at him confused now. How would he know that? “Women get so emotionally involved with the little things. She’s probably stuck on all the reasons why she shouldn’t have fucked you. I’m betting money showing up with a cut on is probably just putting more reasons on the list,” he shrugged at me. “All you can do is wait her out. If the sex was good, despite you being a drunk shit, she’ll come back for more.”
“There a guarantee with that?” I asked. Because while it had barely been a day, I could see myself wanting her again and wanting her more.
“Never, man,” he gave me a self-deprecating smile now. “There’s never a guarantee when it comes to women.”
8
Three weeks of being in the club, going on ride alongs with Eddie and a few other guys, and I felt welcomed. I had become comfortable in the position that I had taken up with the club. I didn’t have any job outside of what I worked at the shop, which was a living wage. But I had been tapped for certain duties, and the rules for the club were clearly defined to me by Eddie.
“If you’re going to do drugs,” he looked at me hard. “Don’t do them here. If you’re going to be a dumbass like that, be a dumbass at home. Don’t, under any circumstances, deal them. If you’re hard up for cash, talk to Wilson. But if you start trafficking or making or selling you’re gonna have Cole’s big boot in your ass.”
“Cole?” I had heard the name here and there, but he was someone I hadn’t really met.
While I hadn’t made any real attempt to mingle with the other members, the majority had come to me to introduce themselves. We’d trade stories about the places we’d been stationed at and when we served. The group was better than any History Channel special.
“He’s the Enforcer. The guy that makes sure we stay on the line,” Eddie said lightly. “Don’t deal. If you’re going out for a ride alone, tell someone. Safety in numbers and all that. If you’re like some guys that are still sore after hitting the sandbox, then tell someone. There’s been a few that consider eating their pistol, lemme tell you there’s a better way,” his expression had gone serious as he spoke. “Not that Cole can really beat your ass when you’re dead. Just… it's something to remember, okay?”
I nodded because I didn’t expect them to care that much. “Is it so dangerous that we can’t do solo rides?”
“It’s not necessarily dangerous,” he sighed and tugged off the rag that he had on the top of his head, the hair beneath it was flattened from both the rag and his helmet. “It’s like… the reason why we do the run throughs. There are some people that are harder than we are. They see a guy with a cut on that isn’t theirs, and they get violent.”
“Any other rules?” I prodded lightly.
“Respect your betters. There’s not as much of a defined hierarchy aside from prez, second, and Enforcer. But if you’re going to be a dick to your brothers, you’re going to get your ass kicked.”
He knocked on the table as if he thought something and then continued, “This isn’t necessarily a rule, but a piece of advice. If you see ladies hanging around, Cindy aside, pay close attention. If they’re with a man, I mean obviously with him, hands off. If you see them bouncing between guys that means they’re sluts and they’re up for a good time.”
That seemed to be assuming a lot, and I frowned at that. I didn’t really want to judge a woman like that.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Van Cleef said, sensing my mood. “Bitches are here just for the chance to ride the motorcycle and the guy driving it. Once they’re done with you, they go to the next guy.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I offered, though I wasn’t into the idea of going through women. Though if Tara decided that what happened between us was really a mistake, then I guess it was good to know.
***
That night when I got home, she was waiting there for me. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest, and I felt that rush of excitement. Did she decide
that it wasn’t a mistake? Or maybe I’d have a second chance to make up for bad drunk sex?
“Captain wants a meeting,” she said with an air of seriousness that seemed to throw a bucket of ice water on me. “To be safe, because I’ve been seen around here already, we’re going to go to my place. He’s already there, but he wants to see what’s the hold up with evidence.”
“I guess having a cop out of commission for real work is wearing on him,” I said as a way to cover my disappointment.
“I think it's more along the lines of the fact that there doesn’t seem to be much that you’re collecting,” she pointed out while she led the way to her little sedan. “Are you even trying to find things out about this gang or not?”
“It’s a club,” I corrected. “Not a gang. I haven’t seen so much as a gun or drugs on anyone. I’d be willing to bet there’s not even a chance of tax fraud.” I got into the front, and with a grimace, I adjusted the seat back, so my knees didn’t hit the dash board. “I get the driver’s seat being that close, but why the passenger?”