by Paula Cox
It’s a threat I can’t act on. I’m risking so much just threatening it, but it has to be said.
“I can’t just go. The Coyo--”
“Screw them. I am telling you to go, and that’s an order. If Cal Ross has a problem with me sending you back to him, he can come over here and tell that to me directly. Until then, I want none of you within a hundred foot radius of me or my school.” I quickly unlock the door to my home, my keys fumbling in my shaking head. As I slam my foot into the wood, I turn back to add my last few words, “And when you go, clean up those damn ashes you’re getting all over my sidewalk and plants!” I pull the door shut with a thud and toss my keys into the darkness of my entryway.
As I slump to the floor and place my hands over my head. I listen to the boy linger. He’s struggling in trying to decide who to listen to and who will punish him more. But after my crazy woman display and my threats to call the cops, he knows he’s safer heading back to Cal than sticking around here to see if I will act on my threats.
A light flickers on in the living room, startling me. A jovial voice calls to me, “Where’s that guy going? I was having fun looking at him all night.” Erin walks towards the entranceway, stepping over me as she peers out the small side window next to the door. “Did you have to tell off the hottest one yet?”
“Yeah, Erin. I had to. This is getting to be bullshit. We’re not in any danger. I don’t need any protection. And I don’t want them around.” I add frustrated, “And did you see what they are doing to the bushes? It’s like a giant ashtray to them!”
Erin laughs as she outstretches a hand for me to use. I stand to my feet and give her a long hug. I needed some kind of comfort. But she pushes away and takes a long look at me. With a sly smile she exclaims, “Well, Michelle Springer, tsk tsk! I smell sex. Someone was getting it on with her tutoring student’s parent again.”
I roll my eyes at her and walk towards the living room. I place my bag down and fall into the large leather couch. I close my eyes briefly as I pray that this night would just end, but by the way Erin is staring at me, I know I have a lot of talking left to do. I gesture towards her, “What do you want to know?”
Erin comes at me in a flash. She’s been asking questions since the night the motorcycle club bodyguards came following me home. I haven’t given her much, just that Cal wanted to send protection. But it was getting suspicious given that he himself hadn’t stopped by and that I made it clear we were not in any serious relationship. If he didn’t care for me, why would he want to ensure I was safe twenty-four hours a day?
“I don’t know where to start, Michelle. You haven’t really talked to me in weeks.” She puts a fingertip to her mouth as she thinks of the best question to ask first. “Okay. Let’s start with what happened the night you went over to the motorcycle club’s house and didn’t come back ‘til that morning?”
“Ugh. No. Pass. Any question but that, Erin.”
“Come on, Michelle! You can’t keep this from me. They are clearly guarding the house, so if I’m in danger than I deserve to know, too!” She grabs me by the hand, insisting I pay attention to her.
She has a point. It is unfair that I have kept her in the dark over these things. I sigh heavily as I try to round it up in the least damaging way, “Okay. I went over there to talk about Maddie, my student, and as we were talking I guess one of the other motorcycle clubs came by and shot at the house. Cal knocked me over, and a bullet just barely missed us.”
“No fucking way.” Erin is staring at me stunned. This is way more than she bargained for.
“Way. After the attack, we had sex. It was the adrenaline or something. I don’t know. But then he locked me up with his daughter while he went out and did something with his club. He came back all messed up and we had some really rough sex after that, too.”
Even Erin, who prides herself on being open-minded and totally sex positive can’t believe what I am telling her. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, Erin. I’m serious. Why would I make this up?” I pause as I think about the painful part of all of this. “But his former mother-in-law picked up Maddie and she gave me a warning about him and how I shouldn’t be with him. So I left him. I agreed to keep tutoring Maddie because I felt so bad for her. She really needs a good, solid figure in her life and someone to help her with school.”
I want to crumble up into a ball and fall to pieces. Every part of me hurts just thinking about what has transpired over the last few weeks. How that girl could go through with all that day in and day out is beyond me. I can’t even handle it for the short time I get in on the snapshot of their lives.
“How’s Maddie taking all of this?” Erin can read my mind.
“I don’t know. It’s like this is all normal to her. She was talking to me about all the shit they do there in the club. She was talking about sex like it was no big deal and that women in the club were basically treated like whores. Oh, and cocaine and drinking. It’s like this is what every 10 year old lives through. She has no concept that this isn’t okay.”
Erin looks at me and places a hand upon my shoulder. I’m in over my head, and she can sense that. I always care too much about my students, but this is different. This student actually needs me, and I need to know she’s okay. After reviewing everything she has said to me, I just want to go back there and kidnap her.
“But what about her dad? I mean, you said you thought he was a good father, that he cared about her and her schoolwork. He may live in a crappy home, but at least he’s watching out for her.”
Erin has a point, a point I have wrestled with since day one. But today’s events have got me thinking about it in a whole new light. “That’s the thing, Erin. I thought he was a good father, but when I asked Maddie about food, she said he never cooks for her. They go out for takeout all the time. Even today, he was doing a run or a route or something at that repair shop off the highway and he brought her some fried chicken crap…”
Erin has totally fazed me out about half way through. She stands, grabbing her phone. I watch as she scrolls quickly through it before turning back to me, “What repair shop, Michelle?”
“Uh, I think it’s called Chris’ Repair Shop or something like that. It’s that beat up old place off of Exit 48. It’s like a drug supplier or something. I don’t know…Why?”
She hands me her phone where she has pulled up our local newspaper. In the middle of the screen is an image of a mess of fire, smoke, and wood crumbling towards the ground. I press play on a video to see the place crumbling to the ground, sending a ball of fire in the air as it lands on a row of cars. Paramedics are on the scene treating a firefighter and later, it cuts to more bodies being wheeled out on stretchers.
A serious female voice begins the news report, “Just this in at Cable 3 News: a large fire burned down one of Washington City’s oldest businesses. Outside the building, four men requiring medical assistance were taken to area trauma centers with non-burn related injuries and two firefighters suffered smoke inhalation and were treated on sight. Police and fire crews worked for several hours but have managed to contain the flames, which are believed to have been started by a fuel tank leak and a lighter. Fire investigative teams are on the scene and are looking to speak with the owner of the building who is reported missing from his home outside Washington City.”
I put the phone down slowly and place my head in my hands. Erin shakes me back to life, “Michelle, if Cal did this, we have to tell someone! We have to call the police!”
I look at her frantic, upset face. She has no idea what she is saying, “Erin, we can’t do that. If we rat on them, we’re as good as dead. And we have no way of knowing or proving that this had anything to do with Cal.”
“Fine, but you can’t let that little girl stay there with those -- those -- those arsonists!” She’s pacing back and forth on the carpet, ranting. “We have to call the police about that. We have to.”
“No, I won’t.” I place my arms across my chest defiantl
y. “I can’t do it, Erin. Maddie is safer there than she is anywhere else. I know you don’t understand, but it’s of no use.”
Erin picks up her phone and begins typing away. When she is done, she hands me back the phone with a list of numbers and addresses. “Michelle, that girl cannot be in that home. If you don’t call and have them taken away, I will. The best thing you can do for her is be the one who reports it so you can be sure she is safe and taken care of.”
I bite my lip, unsure of how to proceed. We’re walking on such a fine line. What she’s suggesting is having a daughter snatched away from her father. I’ve seen it happen countless times as a teacher, and I know that something like this will destroy a girl like Maddie. She’d be bounced around from house to house, from system to system while Cal tries to prove he’s a good guy with a stable home. It’ll be years before this clears up and who knows what kind of life either of them will lead during that time.
When I don’t respond she sits next to me and slowly says, “I know you don’t want to mess with the gang and that you don’t want to see Maddie get taken from Cal, but this is for the best. Just call tomorrow and ask if there’s been any other reports made. It’s just a first step. It doesn’t have to go any further than that. But it will get the ball rolling in the right direction.”
I reach over, grab my bag, and take out a pen and paper. I scribble down the number for Child Protective Services and fold it neatly into a square. I’m not going to call tonight; there’s been enough drama for me to handle at this point. Each one of us – Maddie, Erin, Cal, and I – needs a break and some time off to cool down.
But as I shut my eyes and drift off, all I dream about is fire and a flame that cannot be put out.
Chapter 18: The Storm
CAL
By the time I get back upstairs, Maddie’s face-down in her books, fast asleep. Her little body is hunched over her white wooden desk and a white notecard is still clasped in her hand. As I pick her up and place her into bed, she mutters something that sounds an awful lot like, “Benedict Arnold.”
I sit with her for a while, stroking her hair back to her side. Like all fathers, I’m amazed at how much she has grown in what feels like a short amount of time. Every day that passes by, she looks more and more like her mother. Her nose is mine. Her mouth is mine. But those wide hazel eyes and those high cheekbones are all from April.
April was the exact kind of woman for me. She, like me, had been raised a Mustang. It was in her blood. Her daddy had taught her to ride as soon as she could reach the handlebars. And as dumbass teens, we stole bikes belonging to club members and rode off onto the highway.
But, unlike me, she wanted to get away. Her mom had left earlier, had broken from the pack after the divorce. However, I pushed her to stay. I don’t know what life is like outside of a clubhouse full of men. I didn’t even get through high school. All I know is riding and back alley business. And when I wouldn’t go with her and make a new life, April became the version of me I hated.
She was dark, one of the most ruthless girls. She took other lovers, even with me rising in the ranks. She insisted on going on routes with the boys, even after Maddie was born. And, after a year or two, she tried to push Jager to initiate her in as a full rider. The day she was killed, the guys finally agreed to make an exception to the rules for her. We buried her with her 1% patch.
Every day I think about Maddie and if her being here in this place is going to snuff out that good I saw in April before she went head-on into club affairs. Maddie has seen and experienced so much, but I had to go through that stuff, too. So did her mother. But why does it feel like this life is not enough for her?
I tuck her blanket up to her neck and give a quick kiss to her forehead. I whisper my goodnights to her as I close the door and head back downstairs. There is still club business to attend to, and I’m running late again.
The meetings already started when I head downstairs. I hear Jager’s voice over the stillness of the room, “What happened a few weeks ago was just the beginning of our revenge, boys. Those little pansies got their asses handed to them thanks to club members like Cal and Ace and Red Dog, too. But now, it’s time to rise up and talk about phase two.”
Ryan stands up slowly and claps, interrupting Jager. All eyes turn towards him, giving me the perfect opportunity to slip in towards the back of the room behind where the rest of the leadership is sitting. “That’s right, boys. We have to get our revenge.” The sarcasm and mockery are oozing off of him.
I look up at Jager to see him practically steaming. The rest of the group looks around nervously, unsure of what to do.
“All this shit is petty crap. Cal didn’t even have the balls to kill those guys at the auto repair shop, and he let that asshole get away, too! Why are we rewarding them for being little girls about this shit? We should be taking them down, chopping off heads! Some of us are tired of going up against Addison Bell and Mountain every few months. We shouldn’t stop until they’re all dead!”
Jager jumps down off of the makeshift platform and walks straight towards Ryan. He grabs him by the neck, choking off his air supply. With one arm, he lifts his body off the ground as Ryan struggles to pry Jager’s fingers off of him. Jager stares his red, bulging eyes down as he asks, “Is this what you want, you prick? You want death, I’ll be happy to hand it to you.” With a thud, Jager drops his body to the ground and then spins to address the rest of the room, “I will not have anyone, and I mean anyone, question my plans. Cal has his orders. He’s working on tracking down Addison Bell. The rest of you are to keep your positions in guarding our territories. Do you get me?”
A rise of “ayes” come up over the crowd. It’s tentative, frightened. They are all still staring at Ryan who is on his hands in knees coughing horrifically.
As Jager walks past me towards the door, he pulls me aside and mutters, “You kill Addison Bell, or you die trying, do you hear me?”
I nod in agreement, watching him pass through. But before he can make it through the door, there’s a shout, a man screaming at us in the distance, “They’re here! They’re here! Grab your guns! The Coyotes are here!”
My heart races as I struggle to find my bearings. The rest of the men are running around me in a panic, each racing to get upstairs towards the attack. I push past them, blood surging through my head as I hear the pops of gunfire begin. I make it to the kitchen where I see Mustang’s taking position, removing the bits of wood covering the shot out windows.
Upstairs, the clubwomen are panicking. I see one huddled and crying in the bathroom while two more are holed up in my bedroom, attempting to barricade the door. I scream at the top of my lungs over the shouts and fire from the floor below, “Where’s my daughter!”
The door to her room creeps open a bit and I see the top of her brown, messy curls opening it for me. I scoop her in her arms and motion for the rest of the women to follow me. Two of them hold onto my hips, holding onto me for protection as I slither down the stairs with my train of club girls. Several of them scream as they watch one of our men fall backwards, a bullet entering and exiting through his shoulder.
I kneel down lower, taking the girls and my daughter with me towards the floor. We slowly sink towards the entrance to the basement, the only place I think to be safe. I shut the door behind me and set Maddie down on a beat up old couch.
She looks at me, tears welling in her eyes, “Dad, you can’t go up there! Did you see? Did you see?”
“I did, baby,” I console her, “but that’s exactly why I have to go back. The guys need me.” I wipe a tear that has fallen to her chin and remove her hands from around my arm. “I’ll be okay. C’mon. You know I’m a tough guy.”
“But you can’t go!” She screams at me as I walk away, “Daddy! No!”
I haven’t heard her call me “daddy” in years. In that moment of panic, I make myself a promise that I will be back for her, no matter what. I won’t leave this house a dead man. And she sure as hell wasn’t go
ing to leave it fatherless.
When I make it back upstairs, Jager throws me a gun as he shouts at me, “Where the fuck have you been, Cal? We need you up here!”
I don’t bother answering him. He wouldn’t understand. No one except a father could possibly understand my need to put her first. I take the rifle he tossed at me and sling it over my shoulder. For the first time, I can take a moment and see what is going on and get my bearings.
Outside, men are on their knees, hiding behind bushes and parked cars as they shoot into the home. Our men are at every single window and door, returning each shot as they come. Jager is standing behind the main group as if he is leading his troops into the battle. The rest of the gang is taking up positions outside the back, guarding the rest of the potential entrances and exits.
That’s when it hits me. I run towards Jager, yelling at him in hushed tones, “The basement. They’re gonna try to get in through the basement. If they know anything about this house, they know we’ll be too busy watching the front and the back to think about that side entrance.”