Ridge Creek

by C L Green

  Clicking on Windows Explorer, the Google screen appears and I let out a squeal of excitement. Ready to shop I realize I need one more thing.

  Without a second thought, I jump off the chair, fly through the door behind me and before I realize what I’ve done, I’m standing in the main room with half a dozen biker men staring directly at me.

  Fuck.

  Casting my eyes around the room, I recognize some of the faces from earlier today but there are a couple of new ones too. Not one single biker utters a sound. Not one of them smiles.

  In fact they all look just a little bit angry.

  Scaaaaaary.

  I consider my alternatives and ponder backing slowly through the door so as not to startle anyone and perhaps cause some sort of biker display of… whatever it is that bikers do when they display their bad-ass-iness.

  Hoping that Jake would not have left me alone next to a room full of … baddies… that were worth worrying about, I clear my throat and announce, “I’m looking for Jake.”

  A huge man with a bald, tattooed head and a long black curly beard smiles at me. He’s got a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth and he’s missing a couple of teeth. I almost physically recoil in horror at his mouth but hold my ground because I realize he is smiling.

  An improvement on the general mood in the room.

  I think.

  “He’s not here sugar, can I help?” He asks in a scratchy voice that sounds like he’s smoked about two thousand packets of smokes too many. As he speaks I watch mesmerized as his cigarette bounces on his lips, untouched by his hands.

  “Um…” I hesitate unsure what to do. Deciding that I only need one small piece of information to get me headed back out to the shopfront and impending shopping bliss, I continue. “What’s the mailing address here?”

  “Jake and Zane’s Harley Shop, Ridge Creek,” bald guy announces still not touching his cigarette. I watch as it bobs along to each word and decide it’s a God given skill to be able to talk without removing your cigarette from your mouth. Then I decide that Jake and Zane’s business naming skills are just as bad as their product display skills.

  “Um… does it have a street number?”

  “Fucked if I know,” bald guy announces looking confused. “Anyone else know?” He asks helpfully as his eyes scan the room. This sets of a series of mutterings and grunts that eventually bring the group to a consensus that no one does.

  “Shit,” I mutter to myself as I reconsider my shopping spree. I can’t order anything online if I don’t have a delivery address. Racking my brain for ideas on how to find the street address for ‘Jake and Zane’s Harley Shop’, I have another idea.

  “Do they have website?” I ask hopefully.

  This question meets complete silence and a room full of stunned stares. Bald guy grins at me and finally using his hand, he snatches his cigarette out of his mouth. Throwing it in a gutter ashtray below him, he throws his head back and roars with laughter. And when I say roars, I mean roars. As in as loud as one badass lion telling another badass lion to get ye gone before I rip your heart out.

  Feeling my mouth drop open in shock, I watch as the entire room bursts into gut-wrenching laughter with plenty of fist pounding on benches and tables as well.

  Listening to them all laugh their asses off, I wait for a slight dulling of the noise levels before clearing my throat. In as loud a voice as I can I muster I announce, “I’ll take that as a no then.”

  With laughter still echoing about the room, I decide to give up. It is but half a second after I turn to exit back the way I have come that the room falls silent. All laughter ends and I swear that if one were to do so, they would hear a pin drop.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as the eerie silence falls on the room. I can almost feel waves of some huge dark force smashing through the room. A familiar deep, gravelly voice breaks the silence. “Who the fuck said what and who do I have to beat shit out of?”

  Semi-relieved that I’ve found Jake, I delay my departure and turn back to the room. Jake is standing in the doorway at the other side of room looking like he’s about to commit murder. Not a biker in the room will look him in the eye.

  Striding across the room towards me he continues, “I warned you fucked up bunch of miscreants not to scare her and not to be fuckin’ rude.”

  More silence follows.

  Reaching me in what I swear is only half a millisecond, Jake throws an arm around my neck and pulls me tight against his side. In a softer voice he asks, “Sweetheart, who said what?”

  Deciding that not even with Jake at my side do I want to tempt fate and set off a display of bad-ass-iness, I reply at the same time as I let my eyes wander around the room. “No one said anything. We were just discussing your ah… business’s … well… electronic visibility.”

  “What the fuck is that?” Jake asks sounding confused.

  “That’s exactly what they said,” I mutter under my breath.

  Chewing on my lip I watch in fascination as the whole room relaxes. The tension literally flows along the floor and rolls out the door. Everyone starts smiling at me. Giving me a squeeze, Jake seems happy enough with my response. “Were you lookin’ for me?”

  “I need your postal address to get my goodies delivered,” I announce as I start to turn us both towards the door.

  And I need to get the fuck out of here.

  “121 Queen Street, Ridge Creek,” he announces as he pulls the door open for me. With a light touch to my shoulders, he propels me back through to the front desk.

  As the door closes behind us, I try to ignore all the soft, deep voiced voices mumbling, “Goodies,” from the room behind us.

  *****

  I spend the next hour shopping. I’m in seventh heaven. Jake goes and gets his cordless drill and mounts the tin sign I found next to the front counter. I walk around the room, pick up another sign, point to a spot on the wall and hand it to him. Without a word, he mounts the second sign too.

  I then spy a massive, very cool, framed print of a motorbike silhouetted against a sunset leaning against a side wall. Climbing through piles of boxes to reach it, I struggle to lift it up. Still without a single word, Jake follows me through the boxes, picks it up with one hand and announces, “Where.”

  I look around the room and decide the best place for it is above and center behind the front counter. Pointing to my chosen spot, I hear him sigh as he nods and starts climbing back through the boxes. I follow and take a seat back at the computer to do more shopping.

  Leaning the huge print against the counter, he disappears out the door. Returning a short time later with a ladder, hammer and various hooks, I smile as he sets about hanging the print. It’s about fifteen minutes later that I complete my last purchase for the day and shut the computer down. This coincides with Jake climbing back down the ladder one last time after several adjustments to the picture to get it hanging straight.

  Walking around to the front of the counter and stepping back a few steps, I admire the print. It looks awesome. Packing up his ladder and tools he asks, “Any room left on my credit card?”

  Grinning, I answer honestly. “No.”

  “I’ll go to the bank tomorrow and clear it for you.”

  “Phone banking?” I ask.

  “What banking?” He replies.

  “Enough said,” I reply with a grin as I round the counter to open the door for the man and his ladder.

  Chapter Five

  Pizza

  After putting his ladder and tools away, Jake suggests we head out to what he calls the ‘Communal Room’, to order a pizza and have a few drinks at the bar. He explains he’s sent his mother home and most of the ‘boys’ have already cleared out. He’s my official baby-sitter for the night.

  Perched at a bar stool, I look around the room to find there are only two biker’s left playing pool. They are the blonde and red-haired men I saw earlier today. Excluding a quick glance and a nod as I enter the room, neither of them bo
ther to interact with us.

  “Where’s Zane and Pops?” I ask Jake as he rattles around under the bar before producing a bottle of Wild Turkey and two shot glasses.

  “Gone home. Zane’s been sleeping here all week while Ma nursed you. Both he and she needed a break.”

  I nod as I silently decide I need to do something big to thank them both. What big thing that is, I have no idea. I’m hoping it will come to me. Perhaps Ems can help me think of something when she gets here.

  Pouring the shots, Jake slides one to me as he grabs his phone from his back pocket. Raising his voice he calls out, “Bill, Luke, you in on pizza?”

  Two heads lift from the pool table where they have both been studying what seemingly was a complicated pool shot and nod.

  “Do they talk?” I ask Jake in a quiet, barely there voice.

  “Only if you want them to,” he replies as he hits some buttons on his phone.

  He then places an order with a man named Jerry for the ‘usual’ for four. (Jake appears to know Jerry well because he asks after his wife and kids during the order placement.) Finishing the call and sliding his phone into his back pocket again, he points at my shot glass.

  “Beer?” I ask hopefully.

  I figure there is no point in even asking for a wine.

  “Bourbon,” he replies with a deep rumble that makes my skin tingle.

  “One way to wean me off painkillers I suppose,” I mutter as I tip the shot back and swallow. I don’t even choke. I’m getting good at this. I think I’m becoming an alcoholic.

  I instantaneously decide being an alcoholic could be a good thing. Walking around with green eyes, a new hair color and drunk off my ass all the time, there is no way Tony or his thugs will recognize me. Apart from the changes to my shell, Tony would never expect me to become a drinker.

  Watching as he slides a stool over and settles himself opposite me at the bar, I ask, “Where have you been all week?”

  His face activates momentarily before he replies, “Away on business.”

  “You’re mother said you went home.”

  “I did, for a night. Then I had to leave to attend to some business.”

  Studying his face I feel an icy chill run through my body. My sixth sense is telling me he is holding something back. Deciding that he’s a biker and bikers are badasses, I decide that it’s probably a badass thing. A badass thing that I don’t want to know about. The equivalent to not wanting to know what Tony was doing when he took calls at two in the morning that saw him leave our house in the middle of the night and not return for days.

  “You have a home. Why do you have a bedroom here as well?” I ask.

  “Sometimes I work late and need to crash,” he replies without hesitation.

  Okay then.

  “Do you need me to move into another room so you can have your crash bed back?” I ask as I start lamenting internally that I should have bought two Queen sized beds online today and not just the one.

  Dammit.

  I should have planned for this. The furniture outlet that had promised next day delivery had had a fantastic deal on two beds for the price of one. With the kickass latex mattress that I’d bought Emma, it would have been the deal of the century. Now I’m going to have to order a second bed for full price.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  “Fuck no,” his deep gravelly voice snaps me from my revelry.

  “Where are you going to sleep then? Do you have another room?”

  I hear a snort and a grunt from the pool table behind me and swing my eyes. I do this just fast enough to catch the two men at the pool table staring at me. Aware that I can see them, they drop their eyes back to the pool table.

  “There’s other rooms,” Jake mumbles as he pours another round of drinks. “But I don’t sleep in them. Ever.”

  Why not?

  Wondering why he said ever, I decide to clarify. “Do you plan to go home tonight?”

  “Maybe,” he replies warily, his eyes becoming intense as he studies me closely.

  “What does maybe mean?”

  “It means that my going home depends on how you answer my next question,” he replies with a hint of caution in his voice. His green eyes glow just a little and I find myself mesmerized as I wait for him to ask his question. His question takes me by surprise.

  “Why did you hide under the bed earlier?”

  I was not expecting that!

  “Um…” Watching his eyes closely I try to interpret why this question is so important. I can see it holds great weight with him. By the serious lines on his face and the hard set of his jaw, I can see my answer matters. Deciding I don’t have anything left to hide from this guy, I go with honesty.

  “There was a loud bang. I thought Tony had found us and he was shooting people.”

  I watch his face as he blanks out for a few seconds before recovering. Understanding then dawns in his eyes. “The bike backfired,” he mutters. “They were working on a bike in the garage. It backfired.”

  “Oh…”

  God I feel like an idiot.

  “You panicked and threw yourself under a bed,” he continues as if he is talking to himself.

  “Um…”

  “I’m not going home tonight,” he announces firmly as he grabs his shot glass and downs another drink.

  “You can go home…” I offer. Because really, why should he stay? I’m a big girl now. I’ve made it this far and if I wasn’t here, I’d probably be hiding in a dumpster somewhere, scared out of my wits. Scared out of my wits and planning to live my life dumpster diving, wearing big overcoats and filthy hats to disguise my identity. I’d probably even shave my head. So far, things are panning out far better than I could have imagined. There’s hope that I can live a life and I can do it with hair.

  “You don’t feel safe yet,” he explains as he watches me closely.

  “I feel safe… ish,” I reply without hesitation. “Safer than I would feel somewhere else…”

  Say in a dumpster, with bags of left over Chinese food…

  And that’s a fact.

  I doubt I could feel safer anywhere else right now. I’m in a different State, I’m in a small town in the middle of nowhere and I’m hiding behind a biker shop. These three things alone create more anonymity for me than any plan I could have dreamed up.

  Just because I’ve become a total nervous wreck doesn’t mean he needs to baby-sit me. I’m sure he’s got a life.

  Holy shit.

  He’s probably got a wife or someone who waits at home for him and here he is, sitting at a bar, drinking with me. I don’t need any more enemies. I have more than enough already. Jake’s girlfriend or wife holding a grudge against me would be horrible.

  Fuck.

  It seems that huge parts of my brain are no longer functioning because this is something I should have asked him waaaay earlier. “Do you have a wife?” I blurt out loudly.

  More snorts and grunts from the table behind me. This time I choose to ignore them. Clearly they are listening to every word of our conversation.

  Fascinated I watch as Jake’s face instantly hardens. He looks pissed. “Yes,” he grinds the word out as I stare fascinated at the way his eyes have gone almost yellow green now that he’s pissed.

  That’s strange and unusual.

  “Oh…” I quickly decide I don’t need to know any more. The guy’s got a wife. I need to steer clear. No doubt I’m already a complication as it is. I can just see it now, Jake arriving home to his pretty wife who’s been slaving over a hot stove all day. She hasn’t seen him all day and she’s excited her man is home. Then he has to tell her he’s picked a woman up off the side of the road and he needs to spend all his days and all his nights babysitting her to make sure she doesn’t get herself shot.

  Bingo – instantly I become female enemy number one.

  Good times.

  “She’s a fucking bitch,” his words once again snap me out of my head. He looks even more pissed. If that’s at all po
ssible, considering he looked pissed before.

  “Oh…” I repeat.

  Well that changes things doesn’t it? Or does it? I suppose he could be happily married to a bitch.

  “I can’t stand the sight of her but unfortunately she’s hard to scrape off. I’m working on it though. You don’t need to worry about her. She’s never set foot in the shop or its surrounds. It’s too dirty for her and she doesn’t like bikers.”

  She doesn’t like bikers?

  How can you be married to a biker and not like bikers?

  Staring at his face as he pulls his lips up to grimace, I strike that thought. Sitting right in front of me is the very reason that any woman would like bikers, even if they didn’t like bikers. Even grimacing, the guy hits fifteen on the one to ten scale of hotness.

  “I have to agree with her on the dirty part, you guys live like pigs in…”

  “Don’t you fuckin’ start woman,” he warns, his eyes darkening again to reveal more green than yellow. “You’ll wreck the whole tough as nails image I have of you. There are several reasons we never let women into the back of the shop and whinging about our shit everywhere would be one of ‘em.”

  My jaw almost hits the bar. “You never let women back here?”

  “Fuck no. Ma’s the second female to have ever set foot back here and she did it under duress. She’s avoided it at all costs for over ten years. It was only due to the extenuating circumstances she even considered it.”

  Holy shit.

  My mind flying into overdrive I can now see why I have been getting so many strange looks as I wander through the place. Without even knowing it, I’ve broken one of their Golden Rules. I’ve entered their sacred man cave. It dawns on me the enormity of what Jake is doing for me.

  Thinking that we’ve come this far, I decide I may as well just throw it out there. “You’re gunna let Dingo’s wife come back here to fix my hair too. And then Em’s is going to arrive. How’s all that working out for you?”

  I watch as he grimaces again and pours himself another drink. “Don’t fuckin’ ask.”