Echoes of a MC

by Bella Knight

  “All in favor?” asked Lily. All the hands went up, even Jie’s. “Opposed?” No one raised their hands.

  “Now, we get to work,” said Gwen.

  “One proviso,” said Lily. “This has nothing to do with the twenty-percent that goes into college, university, certificates, and internships for everyone.” Everyone nodded. “Okay,” said Lily, “I’m with Gwen. Get to work.” They split into home and outward expansion teams, then they set up committees. Once they had a good shared spreadsheet in Google with committees and lists of chores, Leafort sang them out.

  Afterward, they ate tacos and drank lemonade and sodas in the farmhouse kitchen. Then, they got into their trucks and cars and on their bikes, and went out into the world, and those that lived there hiked back to their houses across the paddock, talking and laughing.

  Inola stood with Lily on the porch, watching them go out in a cloud of dust. “They grow up so fast,” Inola said.

  Lily nodded. “No fucking kidding.” She grinned. “I’ve got to go home to my own. She looked at Inola’s sweet face. “Did you have any idea that this would happen when we started this?”

  “Not a damn clue,” said Inola. “Expansion? Bitcoin? An educational gaming and eBook business? Successfully funding their own college and certificates, and apprenticeships? Not a clue in the world.”

  “Keeps me busy,” said Lily. “And it funded my own babies.”

  “I’ve got my two, too,” said Inola.

  They sat on the Adirondack chairs and finished their lemonades, sipping slowly. Robert put together a bike on his porch. Triesta came out with lemonade, and kissed him. He grinned at her, and they went inside to drink it together. Damia walked a pony around the paddock, its coat glossy with health. She laughed, walked him around, and fed him bits of apple. The teens arrived at the far side of the paddock, and rather than study, they took a break with a soccer ball. Soon they were running back and forth. Nantan and Chayton came out with some baseballs and gloves, and some went around the side to play, and some stayed with the soccer ball. Vi came out, sat down, sighed gustily, and drank her own lemonade.

  “I fucking love our family,” said Lily.

  “We all do,” said Inola.

  Lily made it back, grinning, from the Wolfpack session. Rose Ivy burbled when she came in, and held up her arms. Lily picked her up, cuddled her, and blew on her neck, making the little girl giggle. Colin was angry about something, and wouldn’t come out of his play tent. Ace came over, and kissed her soundly.

  “Colin is furious because he hit Rose Ivy, and I put him in time out. Now he wants to stay in time out.”

  “Okay,” said Lily. “The pool?”

  Colin poked his head out of the tent, his blue eyes wide, sandy hair falling over his shoulder as he tilted his head. “Poo?” he asked.

  Lily and Ace nearly doubled over with laughter. “Pool,” said Lily, trying to teach him the pronunciation through her wide smile. “Swimsuits, water wings, and sunblock,” she said. “And that’s just for us, suppose the kids need them too.”

  Ace laughed. “Good idea. I’ll take Poo here and you take our little flower.”

  Colin glared at his father. “Caw Win,” he said.

  “Good job saying your name, buddy,” said Ace. He went to pick up Colin, and the boy turned his back on his father.

  Lily grinned. “Trade?”

  Ace smiled. “Have to, it looks like.” But, it was not to be. Rose Ivy refused to be separated from her mother, so Lily carried them both to get changed into their little bathing suits.

  Ace went upstairs to put the lotion on Colin. He used zinc to ensure he was covered fully. Colin screamed as if he was being murdered, but Ace did get the white stuff all over his squirming son. Then, Lily took the top half, and Ace the bottom, as they spread sunblock on Rose Ivy. They put on their own swimsuits and sunblock, then they put hats, glasses, and water wings on the kids, and drove them to the community pool at the local water park.

  The babies got in the kiddie pool, and Colin staked out a sprinkler that would intermittently shoot water at him, making him howl with laughter. Then, they put the kids in their rings with holes for their legs, and took them in the lazy river, floating around and around. Afterward, they took them to the middle section so they could run in the giant flowers and buckets, shooting water all over.

  They ate a snack and drank water, put on lots more sunblock, and played more. Then, they dried the kids off, put their shorts and tops back on, and put them in their car seats. They were asleep immediately. They were grumpy through baths and dinner, completely exhausted, so Ace and Lily took them to bed early. Neither one of the babies made it through the first few pages of Goodnight, Moon. Ace and Lily kissed their heads, and smelled their sweet baby smells. They made sure the baby monitor and the night-light were on.

  “We have time on our hands,” said Ace, smiling.

  “That almost never happens,” said Lily. Ace started humming Justin Timberlake’s Sexyback. Lily giggled. “Rest first; sing later.”

  They sat on the couch. Lily had a glass of Merlot, and Ace drank iced-lime cherry water. He kissed his wife, her mouth full of the cherry notes of the wine. He rubbed her feet, making her moan. He slid off her shirt, turned her to him, and rubbed her shoulders.

  “Mmm,” she said. “Stop… never.” She leaned forward, and he dug into her lower back. She groaned more deeply, and then she said, “Okay, I’ll take sex now.”

  He laughed. “That’s so romantic.” She threw a small couch pillow at him. “Okay, you talked me into it,” he said.

  She put down her empty glass of wine, turned around, and kissed him deeply. He pulled her to him, and slid his hands up her shirt. She pulled back, pulled off his shirt, and kissed his neck; that turned into a light bite. He growled at her, pulled off her shirt, then her camisole with its shelf bra, and held onto the breasts that spilled out into his hands. He kissed the tips; then he wantonly sucked each one until she began to hold back screams of need.

  He pulled off her shorts and pale blue underwear, spread her legs on either side of him, and then kissed her with heat, from her throat to her belly. She wriggled under his hands. He slipped his fingers inside her and made her groan. She was wet already. He kissed his way down to her thighs. She tasted of sun and chlorine, and sunblock and some taste that was just… Lily.

  He spread the lips, and flicked his tongue over her pearly button until she twisted his hair in her hands and arched her back. He made her come twice, and then he reached into his back pocket for the condom. He stood, dropped his shorts and underwear, and slipped on the condom. He slipped inside her, and kissed her deeply, moving inside her slowly, so deep he felt a part of her. He made her come again, and then he let himself go. He laid on her, gasping, using his forearms to keep from crushing her.

  “Off,” she said. She picked up all the clothes, threw them in the wash, and dragged him up the stairs.

  They went into the shower, attacked themselves with the hot water, and scrubbed themselves off thoroughly. They got out, and he dried her off before he dried himself. They slid lotion over each other’s bodies, adding after-sun to keep their skin from turning into prunes. He blow-dried her hair, which took almost no time, because she liked her hair cut short. She laughed and dried his, then took his hand.

  They dressed in shorts and Lily put on a camisole. She checked that the baby monitor in the bedroom was on. She took Ace to bed, and laid him down in cotton sheets. She kissed him, then snuggled in. They read books together and kissed some more, then she pulled off his sleep shorts and stroked him. He grinned, and smiled as she drew out a condom and mounted him. It was slow, very slow, her hands on his shoulders. He came, then she wiped them both down. He held her again, and grabbed the phone as it slipped out of her hand. He put it on the nightstand and plugged it in. He plugged his own phone in, wrapped her in his arms, and slept.

  Ace woke up when Rose Ivy started coughing, a pretext to cry, at three-thirty in the morning. He ch
anged her diaper, cooed to her, and gave her a little warm milk. She was asleep within twenty minutes. He stumbled back into bed. Then, interrupted again, Ace stumbled out again at six, and took a wailing Colin out of his crib. He changed the boy, wiped him down, put on shorts and a shirt, then did the same with a burbling Rose Ivy.

  Ace got the babies downstairs and into their high chairs. They stuffed fruit and cereal into their mouths, in their hair, and onto their high chair trays. He made tea for his wife, coffee for himself, and cracked eggs into little round metal rings in a pan. He cooked the bacon in the microwave, and toasted the English muffins. The muffins were buttered and the breakfast sandwiches were assembled by the time his wife came down the stairs, her violet eyes were narrowed because she was still groggy. He poured her strawberry mint tea and added a touch of honey, and put her breakfast sandwich in front of her. He ate his standing up, his children burbling, his wife attempting to open her eyes.

  He took the babies for a walk to the park, doused in sunscreen, while his wife “went away” to work. This deception worked as long as he went, or allowed them to go, nowhere near her work office directly underneath their bedroom in the back of the house. The gates were up to prevent this from happening.

  He played with them in the specially-covered sandbox, with the tent placed perfectly, keeping the sandbox from getting a scalding from the sun. He de-sanded them, put them back in their double jogging stroller, and took a light jog around the neighborhood. He talked to both Consuela and Rimini, both work-at-home mothers who took their children to the park to wear them out so they could work too. They exchanged watching each other’s kids, and hired Wolfpack to watch them when crunch time —tax season, the end of year, (quarterly report time) ensued.

  He got them home and de-sanded them again, got them their snack, played on the floor with them, put the dishes away from the dishwasher, swept and mopped, and fed them both snacks and lunch. He cleaned up the disastrous lunch, whereby both children threw their food on the plastic on the ground under their high chairs.

  Ace cleaned up the children, changed everyone again, including their clothes, put on jeans and a work T-shirt (with the Nighthawks logo on the back), and drove the screaming children to Katya’s place. They fell asleep in the car, and he managed to get them both into their playpens there, without waking them up, which was a first. He hugged Katya, who was simultaneously making soup and doing her homework at the table to become an educator. After that, he dropped the car back home, switched it for his bike, and roared out to work.

  He got the door open, received three deliveries in a row, filled up his station, and began with the ice. His bar back, Rose, came in, and growled at him for doing the ice. It was an actual growl. He grinned, and went back to getting the bar ready. Pedro and Wang came in, and he had some chicken fingers, fries, and a Coke. He listened while the band warmed up.

  The dancers came in, Ivy came out of the office, the music started, and the night was on. He moved his hands as fast as he could physically move them. There were people, wall-to-wall —mostly Nighhawks, Valkyries, and Iron Knights, with the smattering of Gearheads and tourists wandering in, all looking for a good time. Cocktail servers twirled by, and Ace kept their trays filled with beer, shots, and liquors. He’d started keeping blue agave, orange, and strawberry liquors (that a new cocktail server carried around) in test tubes. Kelli knew the difference between the bikers and the tourists, and kept the tourists happy drinking things in neon colors. Meanwhile, everyone else drank their “usual” beer and whiskey.

  Ivy went up and onto the stage when the band called a halt, along with the Valkyries with musical talent, and Callie, who had left the babies with Nico and Bao (and the girls) for the night. Ivy sang the opening lines of Smells Like Teen Spirit while stalking her wife, resplendent in her leather biker bustier and black jeans shot through with silver, her hair in its twists. She hit the final “Hello” to her wife, jumped four times, and the band and Valkyries played their many guitars.

  The entire bar sang and screamed, jumped and stomped, growled and howled. The dance floor looked like a mosh pit. Ace simply covered both sides of the bar in shot glasses, and took turns pouring whiskey, scotch, and tequila into them. At five dollars a shot, he got a fine collection of fives, tens and twenties, and the occasional fifty-dollar bill as people threw over money, picked their poison, and took a shot. Many of them jumped and howled like wolves. Heads banged. People pounded out the beat on tables, making the beers dance.

  Ivy slid into Meat Loaf’s Anything for Love, with the growling guitars, and then Aerosmith’s Walk This Way. They went into Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, prompting a lot of people to buy shots and pour them into each other’s mouths. They slid right into AC/DC’s Highway to Hell, the theme song of motorcycle clubs all over the world. You Shook Me All Night Long came next, along with Thunderstruck. The very loud set ended when Skuld and Ivy sang, What’s Going On, a Valkyrie theme song, and the Valkyries sang high, loud, and proud, all of them coming on stage in a line of braided, strong women.

  The last note died, and Ace raised his glass. “To all of us,” he said. “May the road rise to meet you; may the wind always be at your back, may the sun always shine upon you. Slainte.” He downed his apple juice, as did Ivy and the bar backs. Everyone else had alcohol, except for the few sober alcoholics and designated drivers in the room that had soda or juice. They all drank, regardless. The dancers slid off their plinths for a break, and the band put on some of the greats.

  Ace took off his apron, took his drop to the back room, and a heaving Ivy counted it and put it into the safe. “I live for nights like this,” said Ace.

  “I do too,” said Ivy. She slid in the money. “Go on, you.”

  “You too,” said Ace. “This doesn’t work until we both go home so we can spend time with our kids.”

  Cougar bustled in, wearing her trademark leopard print bustier and tight leather pants. Her hair was up in a pouf on her head. “You two still here? Get the fuck out of here and let a woman do her business!” They both laughed.

  They took their bikes to Sonic, and loaded up on cheese fries and cherry limeades. They sat and ate under the stars. “You ever want to get out of the bar business?” asked Ace.

  “Nope,” said Ivy. “I get to sing, dance, and rock and roll. Damia even lets me sing to her a little now. She went on a road trip!” Her eyes glistened as she snagged a cheese fry. “She’s come so far. And, she’ll stay on days, but Hu and Jie are Wolfpack now. Grace has figured out she needs to be on their shift but not join the pack until she’s sure she wouldn’t go all control-freak, so she’s staying with the Nighthawks school on days, not swing. She gets along with everyone now. She’s doing double study times, in exchange for English lessons for Mandarin, with a kid in San Francisco. Grace feels Hu and Jie are talking over her head, and way too fast.”

  Ace stretched out his legs, and sipped his drink. “I am so damn happy to see Damia so happy. She laughs; she shows expressiveness on her face. I’m stunned.” He grinned. “I’m so tired; I think I’m going to pass out on this table.”

  Ivy nodded. “I’m stoked, but underneath is leadenness. It’s not that I’m too old for this, but I have little babies at home. They want love all the damn time, and we just lay it on them. Damia taught me that,” she said. “Keep loving them, even when you don’t understand what they do or why they do it, or when you want to walk away with frustration or anger. Love them anyway, and something breaks through. It may take years to see it, but it happens.”

  “We need a ride, and a party, or a party ride,” said Ace.

  Ivy grinned. “That could be anything from Lake Mead to Baja.”

  “Surfing!” said Ace. They touched cups, finished up, threw their trash away, and headed out into a hot night, filled with bright, blinking stars.

  Baja Ride

  The babies were consolidated at Katya’s house, and April, Mimi, and two other Wolfpack worked in shifts to help Katya. They took everyon
e else —the Nighthawks, the Wolfpack, the Soldier Pack, the Valkyries, and the Iron Knights. They raised money, half for the Soldier Pack to learn to do motorcycles, and half for the Wolfpack’s expansion program.

  They rode north, and began the Baja ride in Reno. They worked their way down through Pahrump, and picked up Xenia, while Bob stayed home. They roared down to Lake Mead, and stopped in Boulder City for a nice breakfast at a pancake house. They had to spill over into the waffle house across the highway. They then roared off toward Los Angles. They stopped off in Huntington Beach for fish tacos, sodas, and surfing. They set up in a line of camping chairs and towels, coolers, and bags of snacks. They swam, grilled, and some of them went out onto a promontory and fished.

  Xenia, Bao, Bella, Lily, Callie, Inola, and Ivy kept an eye on Grace, Damia, Jie, and Hu. Hu and Grace introduced Damia and Jie to the ocean. They all waded in. Ace paddled out on his board, put his hands down, one foot far behind the other, and stood. The girls jumped down and cheered to watch him go. The boys; Tam, Nico, Josh, and Nick kicked a ball in the water, then they waded out to play water polo. Some of the Nighthawks and Iron Knights went out to join them. Valkyries stood on one end, going through a mock battle, complete with collapsible staves.

  Ivy eyed Xenia. “No fighting today?”

  Xenia narrowed her eyes at her. “I can barely keep my head upright. My daughter Diana is like a baby bird. Feed me! I had to stop breast-feeding her early because she bit me. Hard. Drew blood. Sharp vampire teeth.” She sighed. “And then we got hammered. Summer brings out the drunks, the stupid accidents, and the hard heads. We got a roadhouse called ‘The Store,’ just on the edge of the city limits, and we’re there every damn night breaking something up.”

  Ivy narrowed her eyes. “No one messes with anyone in my bar. Ever. Well, once or twice. We generally get everyone separated. Helps to have Nighthawks, Iron Knights and Valkyries everywhere, though. Makes causing trouble kind of stupid. The tourists are usually smart enough to realize there are real bikers there.” She grimaced. “Didn’t like having to set up the neon drinks, but they sell, and the tourists are happy to be in a ‘real biker bar.’” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis. “And, I’m too tired to keep my head up as well.”