by Bella Knight
“Everybody okay?” asked Rana.
“Yeah,” said Ghost.
“Sum-bitch didn’t hit nobody heah,” said Jerry.
Tito rushed up. “I’ve got the first aid kit,” he said.
“Wish he would bleed out,” said Bonnie, who still held the wrench as if she planned on using it on the shooter’s skull.
Tito barked a laugh. “Be fun, but those sirens are the police,” he said. “Let’s put away our guns and wrenches before they get here.” Tito holstered his weapon, as did Sam and Bear.
Bear was bleeding fury. “I’ll check on them,” he said, and moved his bulk quickly toward Ghost and Jerry. Rana holstered her weapon.
“I sent Wraith a 911,” said Sam.
“Good idea,” said Tito. “Now, who is stupid enough to shoot out a biker garage?”
“Jerry,” said Bonnie, “anyone know you’re here?”
“Naw,” he said. “My wife done left me. I lost my job. Won a lot of money at poker, decided I wanted to get a Harley and play poker professionally. So, the suitcase.” It was a battered rolling suitcase, on the small side. “Ain’t got much left.” He sighed. “Can I see my trike now?”
“Hurry it up,” said Tito. “The cops are nearly here.” Jerry was off like a shot into the garage. Bonnie slipped the wrench into her coveralls and ambled over to help show the man his trike.
The cops pulled up and stepped out of their vehicle, hands on their weapons. “What seems to be the trouble?” asked Officer Ghan, a tall man who looked to be of East-Indian extraction, with caramel skin and wide brown eyes.
“I called for the bus,” said Tito. “This guy, whoever he is, shot at that pregnant woman there,” he said, pointing at Ghost, who was rubbing her belly. “In fact, we’d better get her to the hospital, she’s having twins.” He pointed to the man’s gun on the ground. “I know Rana here shot him in the shoulder. I didn’t see what happened before that.”
The other officer, Officer Hasker, called on her mic for another ambulance. She was short, with her blue-black hair carefully tamed in a bun, and wide, green eyes taking in the scene. An ambulance roared up, and the EMTs rushed forward.
Hasker said, “Wounded shooter here, pregnant woman with twins he shot at, there.” A second ambulance showed up, and the first two EMTs worked on the shooter. Hasker carefully kicked the gun away, then bagged it.
Officer Ghan questioned Rana. “Where is your weapon?” he asked.
“Back holster,” she said. “I will be happy to turn it over when you’re ready.” He got out an evidence bag, and she dropped it in. She showed him her ID, her ex-military credentials, and her concealed carry permit. He wrote everything down.
The next two officers split up, one questioning Ghost, who didn’t want to go to the hospital, and one who questioned Bonnie and Jerry. Both were Hispanic women; both looked tough enough to spit nails.
Wraith rode up, flashed her DEA credentials, and quickly ruled out Jerry as the victim. No one except Ghost knew he was coming, and she had no idea when, exactly, he would arrive. That left Ghost, and that raised some ugly questions.
Was it their FBI rat? Was it some weird, not-all-the-Talamates-are-dead thing? I hope not, Wraith thought. If any more of those cartel bastards are still alive, I’ll kill them myself.
She went over to talk to Ghost. “Ghost, who are the parents of these babies?” she asked. The EMT looked at her as if she had two heads.
“Judge Jannie Renault an’ her wifey, Sondra Blake,” said Ghost.
Wraith looked at the startled EMT. “Surrogate mother,” she explained. “Could you call them?” she asked Ghost. “Tell them we’ll meet them at the hospital.”
“I ain’t…” said Ghost.
Bonnie came over and stared her down. “You are having a baby for those nice people. It ain’t just you anymore. Go. Tito has his truck, he can drive you.” She waved Tito over. “Tito, take Princess here to Valley Medical. The moms can meet us there.”
Ghost gave a thunderous look, then sighed. “Get dat man his bike. He done came all this way fo’ it.”
“On it,” said Bonnie.
The cops took having the DEA involved in stride. Officer Ghan was an Iron Knight and knew about the Nighthawks. If the DEA could tell him what was going on, then that would make his job much easier.
No one got arrested but the shooter. He had no ID, but Ghan had a portable fingerprint scanner. He got a scan right before the ambulance drove off.
He told Wraith. “Thanks for the info. I’ll be in touch,” Wraith said. Wraith got on her bike and followed Tito to the hospital.
The judge was there two minutes after Sondra arrived. “The babies alright?” she said.
The technician doing the ultrasound said, “Wait one minute.” The doctor came in and they both stared and pointed at the screen.
“What is it?” asked Judge Renault, terrified. Sondra clenched her hand.
“Sorry,” said the OB/GYN on call, Doctor Nathon. “The babies are fine. We’re counting hands, and we have five so far.”
“Five?” asked Sondra.
“I get it,” said Ghost. “You tellin’ me there anoder one o’ dem in dere.”
“It’s common with triplets,” said Doctor Nathon. “The first two babies hide the third one. We’re confirming, but I think there’s three.”
Sondra grabbed Jannie’s face and kissed her. Killa stroked Ghost’s face. “You be a good carrier,” she said. “Done growed three.”
Jannie laughed. “More shopping,” she said.
“More names!” said Sondra.
“Definitely… another foot,” the doctor said. “Ghost, you can work for a few more weeks, but you’re going to get more and more tired, and it will be harder and harder to walk. And, you’ll be very hungry and thirsty. Go ahead and eat and drink, you’re eating for three!”
“I’m gettin’ Sonic after this,” Ghost said. Everyone laughed.
Wraith, standing in the corner of the room, smiled, with tears in her eyes. That was one happy judge. Now she would have to ask the woman questions she didn’t want to answer.
Sondra went to the bathroom to fix her makeup. “Judge Renault,” she said.
“Jannie,” she said. “You’re Wraith, a friend of the family.”
“Family,” she said. “A Valkyrie, but we’re family. And, very much on the down low, I’m DEA.” She flashed her credentials. “Anyway, I wondered if I could ask you about any recent cases with very angry participants. I know you are a family court judge.”
“Yes,” she said, “and, before you ask, yes, we’re adopting. But, we wanted our own if it could physically be done first.”
“Wasn’t going to,” said Wraith. “But, that’s nice. Anyone really angry about the outcome?”
“There was one dad by the name of…”
“Robert Tibert?” asked Wraith.
Jannie’s face closed. “The shooter, I take it?”
“Yes,” said Wraith. “What happened?”
“He lost custody of his children due to abuse and neglect, permanently. He was given several chances to get clean and sober.” Jannie clenched her fists. “How did he find out about this? I don’t talk about my surrogate pregnancy at work. I don’t generally talk about my home life much at all.”
“Well,” said Wraith, “someone did. I’ll call the officers and wrap this up. Can you go by the precinct and give a statement?”
“I’ll head there right now,” she said. “I don’t have another case for an hour.”
Sondra walked over. “Everything alright?” she asked, concerned by their serious faces.
“Just wrapping up,” said Wraith, smiling. “We’ll look after Ghost. Bonnie will get her off work when the time is right.”
Tito took Ghost and Killa through the drive-through on their way back to work. “I ain’t takin’ off work fo’ a long time,” said Ghost. She ordered two shakes, one order each of fries, cheese sticks, chicken, and a tiny sundae. “What ya’ll want?” she a
sked. Killa doubled over laughing.
They ate at the club. Tito went back to work after they thanked him.
Bonnie was calm in the face of Ghost’s ire. “That man done gave us lots of money. Was real glad about you saving his life, too. One day you’ll be waddling like a duck, your back will hurt, and you won’t be able to get a good welding bead in. Then, we figure out what to do. Until then, we’ve got two more trikes to do and five dog boxes, three of them the extra-small ones for the chihuahuas.”
“On it,” said Ghost.
“Get you a hobby,” said Bonnie. “Something you can do without moving around much.”
“Ain’t got one o’ dose,” said Ghost.
“So fucking get one,” said Bonnie. Ghost harrumphed, and picked up the next part to install on the electric blue trike she was building.
Killa went to construct the smallest boxes. She had little hands, and she liked making them.
“’Kay,” said Ghost. She knew Bonnie was serious when she cursed.
Ghost put the bike together, slow and easy, asking for a lot more help than she normally needed. She felt the babies kick, and thought about her house. Their house. Killa wanted mint-green walls in the hallway.
She sent a text to Tito. “Killa want mint green walls in the hallway downstairs. Usual way.” The “usual way” was for the Wolfpack to get what they needed on a rechargeable credit card Ghost kept filled up for Tito to use.
She then ordered four large pizzas, wings, and sodas to be delivered at dinnertime. The Wolfpack and Tito would munch them, and the hallway would be done. Bonnie also gave her envelopes with cash on painting days. It seemed to please Tito, for running the teens around and supervising the work.
“Bonnie,” she said. “Done gettin’ a hallway done for mah lady heah,” she said.
“Good,” said Bonnie. “One part at a time, just like I taught you.” Ghost nodded, then welded a perfect seam. She took out the next part, ready to finish.
The trike’s owner, was a woman with long blonde hair, and a do-rag on her head. She was dressed in black leather from head to toe. She showed up at quitting time. The blue dragons on the gas tank really made the bike pop. She reached out, gently stroking the gas tank with the tips of her fingers, as Ghost watched her face fill with delight.
“She’s wonderful,” the woman said. She whipped out her credit card for the last payment. “Damn,” she said, walking around and stroking the other side. “She is just gorgeous. Thank you.”
Ghost nodded. “Killa here helped.” Killa took a little bow.
“I can’t thank you enough,” said the woman. Bonnie walked back with the credit card. The woman signed the slip, took the card back, and said, “Can I take her out now?”
“Ride like da wind,” said Ghost. “Call us whenever you want sommin’ done.” She handed out a business card.
“I will,” said the customer. She pocketed the card and receipt, got on the bike and turned it on, all with a wicked grin and a laugh. She put on her blue, metallic helmet, and rode off into the wind.
Ghost thought about her hobby the whole ride home. It was time to drive the car. The Nighthawks had found a wicked Mustang; blue with gold trim and butter-yellow seats. It drove like a metal god. Ghost took it slowly, warming up to her ride, and soon they were home. Killa helped Ghost get out, and walked her in and upstairs. The teens were in moon suits, spraying mint-green paint over the previously-primed walls. Ghost waved, told Tito about the pizza, and went up to crash for a minute.
Killa went to shower first. Since they hadn’t redone the shower yet, and Ghost’s big belly took up most of the small shower, Ghost didn’t shower with her wife anymore. She turned on the TV, and saw some roadshow thingy. They had little, tiny, metal Harleys. Ghost grabbed the remote and looked closer. Betcha I can do dat betta, she thought. Dem a piss-poor paint job. Betcha I can do the whole line, too.
Ghost thought about how to do it. She didn’t know the first thing about miniatures. What would Bonnie do? thought Ghost. She grabbed her phone, and was soon watching videos about making metal miniatures.
She got the idea pretty quickly. She grabbed the sketchpad, charcoal pens, and colored pencils she used to design a Harley. She flipped back through, found an old drawing of a red Harley three-wheeler. She figured the size, and what could move on a miniature. She wouldn’t have to make a real engine, but she wanted parts to move. So, she drew, and forgot about the shower and the pizza. Bemused, Killa fed her wings. Offered her deep-dish, meat-filled, pan pizza, and caffeine-free soda, and left her to her drawings.
Ghost knew she would have to make her own molds, and find the right mix of metals, plastics, and resins. But, she knew those parts. They had been under her fingertips for years. So, she ordered a rubber one-part, and some two-part molds. She added a hot glue melter, some low-melting-point metals (with no lead content), box cutters, awls, tiny clamps, hot glue sticks, and both clay and Lego to create the bases for the molds. Once she had a rubber (for metal) or clay (for resin), she could pour the metal for the same part, indefinitely. She also ordered gloves and masks, because she knew Bonnie would kill her if she harmed hers or the babies’ lungs.
Her first few molds were terrible, but she soon realized she needed to cast in resin first before metal. She soon had perfect molds. Then, she started casting parts. Putting them together was difficult. She used tiny screws and metal pins to hold them in place, while still allowing them to move. She talked to a watchmaker, and found out how to make tiny gears and pistons. She put her first two trikes together. The first was a little lopsided, but the second moved perfectly —wheels, brakes, chassis. It opened to put in a tiny helmet that she also cast. She showed it to Killa, who went crazy over it.
Bonnie went even more insane. “You send this to Jimi and Jimmy down at Harley. They are the best down in design. Them two will go crazy for this. Make Jimi a red one. That’s what she likes.”
Ghost put together the sunset-red trike bike, the last of her work in progress, and she went home with Killa to make the miniature bike for Jimi. Then, she sent it, with one of her cards, to the address in Kansas City that Bonnie gave to her.
She only worked two hours a day in the morning, and then went home to take a nap. She ate throughout the day, and made her miniatures.
She had five three-wheelers, and was casting a low-rider with as many working pieces as possible, when a woman called her. “This Ghost?” asked the woman.
“Yeah,” said Ghost. “Who callin’?”
“This is Jimi at Harley-Davidson. We love your miniatures! Can you send us a few more of the three-wheelers? We want to put one in our museum in Milwaukee. Can you send us more?”
“Sho’ nuff,” said Ghost. “Gimme de address fo da museum.” Jimi rattled it off, and Ghost wrote it down.
“Do you work from drawings?” asked Jimi.
“Sho’ do,” said Ghost.
“Can you do something we send to you? Make a miniature of it with as many parts as possible?”
“Sho’ can,” said Ghost.
“How fast?” asked Jimi. “I just emailed you some specs.”
Ghost pulled up her email on her little tablet, and saw some gorgeous drawings. “Dis is dope,” she said. “I kin do it in a few days. I only be doin’ dis tiny thing ‘bout a week.”
“Well, screw me sideways and call me Jane,” said Jimi. “You just saved me my job. Here’s my FedEx number. Use this to ship them to me. Make one, send it fast, and I’ll tell you if it needs any changing. If it’s perfect, make me ten more.”
“Sho’ nuff,” said Ghost. “What color ya want?”
“Ghost,” said Jimi, “I think I love you.” Ghost laughed. “Make them all in different colors later, start with black and chrome, first. Gimme your bank name and account information. I’ll send you the funds. Just get cracking, girlfriend!”
“I on it,” said Ghost. Jimi hung up.
Ghost stared at the drawings, then sent them to the printer. She stared at them
some more. She then grabbed her tools, and began making molds.
It took her two days to get the first two out, and she sent both her imperfect first copy, and her perfect second one on the same-day, FedEx. She then took a nap, woke up when the babies started kicking her in the ribs, and then finished her low-rider; both the imperfect first and perfect second models.
She took another nap, and received a call from Jimi. “Girl, make as many of both of those as you can. Even your first run is almost perfect. Six, eight, ten. Go with silver, black, red, gold…”
Ghost wrote down Jimi’s specifications. “Shit,” she said. “I make the molds tonight, and do a pour, then mix the colors for the next ones. Be done in three, four days.”
“Excellent,” said Jimi. “The money I sent you good?”
Ghost pulled up her bank app, and nearly dropped the phone. “That be good,” she said. “Keep it comin.’”
“You keep it coming to me, I keep it coming to you,” said Jimi. “I’ll let you get started. Excellent work!”
“I be workin,’” said Ghost. She hung up. Then, she cranked up her tunes and went to work.
It took her three full days, but she pushed herself, stopping to nap and eat… and feel the babies move. She shipped it out at dawn when the FedEx guy came. She lost half a day to what she called a “vet check.”
“Dem people treat me like a damn dog, havin’ the puppies they gonna love on,” she complained to Killa, the night after her ultrasound.
“Dey dam’ near die tryin’ to have dem babies,” said Killa. “An’ we jus’ got the kitchen done. Been makin yo’ favorites, cornbread wif butta n’ honey, grits wif butta n’ honey, collard greens, and dem pork chops. I be cookin,’ an’ I be poppin’ out a baby too, an’ workin’ night an’ day to afford dat dem kitchen. I know yo’ back be hurtin.’ I know you be tired, I know you be workin’ on dem small Harleys. But some of us be workin’ too.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” said Ghost. “I wanna be havin’ yo baby, but I know we ain’t got time ta be doin’ it now. Gotta make dis house perfect for ya,” she said, kissing her neck. “I done love ya, baby. I jus’ bein’ a bitch.”