Rod

by Nella Tyler

  “I can’t say that I blame you, man,” I tell him.

  “One more thing,” he starts. “I’m gonna head to the Sheriff’s department and see if they have any leads. Mickey’s in charge for the time being. I need to be available on all fronts if something turns up.”

  “No problem, man, I’ll report to Mickey, but I’ll text you directly if it’s something to do with Sasha.”

  “You’re alright,” he tells me as we part ways.

  Trish and I walk out of his office and out of the Lair.

  I turn to her and ask, “Wanna go back to my place to work out the details?”

  She smiles, telling me, “Sure, let’s go.”

  We get on our bikes and ride back to my place. Once there, we park our hogs out front and walk upstairs. We go inside and take notice that we’re alone. I grab a notebook and push her for some fake names to write down.

  “How about Jonas Roberts, Phil Mittinson, Leo Hubbard, Woody Jensen, Jake Clinton, and Lee Holt?” she suggests.

  I nod in agreement, smiling at her creativity. “You’re good,” I tell her.

  She smiles in return. “Tell your dad that you got the information from me because my dad won’t let me in the club. Maybe even suggest that he could let me in his,” she tells me.

  “That is an excellent idea,” I offer. “He’ll love that, for sure.”

  I pull my cell phone from my jeans pocket and dial up my father’s number.

  “Shh,” I tell Trish. “This needs to sound real.”

  “Hey pops, I got somethin’ for ya,” I tell my father as I begin pacing the floor.

  “Yeah, what’s that? I ain’t got all day,” he tells me.

  “We’ve got them right where we want them,” I say quietly.

  “Fuckin’ A,” he says with a proud inflection in his voice. “Come to the club, son, we have much to discuss.”

  “I’ll be there,” I say, disconnecting the call.

  “Think he bought it?” Trish asks.

  “I think so, he’s not too bright,” I tell her.

  “I’ll write down the names we talked about so you can take them to him. I’ll put a star next to the ones that could be convinced to switch sides. Should we throw in a real name to be on the safe side?” She questions.

  “Yeah, one of those shady motherfuckers. How about Boris Cardov?” I ask.

  “Alright, I added him to the list. You can tell your dad that I wrote the list down for you to get back at my dad.”

  “That might actually work,” I say, folding up the list and stuffing it into my pocket.

  She puts her arms around me and squeezes, and I gather that this is true emotion without expectations, something I never could imagine I’d feel. I lean into her pretty face and kiss her gently. She is a beacon of beauty and all that’s right in the world with a kickass body and a princess attitude.

  “I need to get out of here. I’ll let you know what I found out – in person,” I tell her. “I can’t risk calling you when I’m at their hangout, it’s too dangerous. When I was there, my father’s goons roughed me up because they thought I had a gun.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” she says in response. “Is he insane?”

  “Yeah, probably,” I tell her.

  We walk down the stairs and through the place to the front door. I offer her a tender kiss as I run my fingers through her hair.

  “We’ll be in touch soon,” I promise.

  “We better be,” she nudges me.

  We leave on our bikes, each of us parting ways in different directions.

  I leave the dirt roads behind me as I race to Hayleysville. It’s a short trip as I ride to the hangout belonging to the Deathdealers. I pull up outside of the club and park my bike in the back as I’ve done in the past. I don’t want to change anything up, so I go through the motions.

  I push the door open and walk inside, throwing my arms out for the inevitable search. My dad eyes me from the bar. He sits there with two men, one overweight guy and the other scrawny and dirty looking.

  I walk over, tap my father on the shoulder to say hello and order the barmaid to get me a beer. She slides one in front of me and I snatch it up and down the whole thing in one gulp.

  “A chip off the old fucking block,” my father says with pride in his voice.

  “Another!” I command the barmaid. She sits another down on the bar and I scoop it up and drink it with nearly the quickness of the first.

  “We need to talk,” I tell my father quietly. His face appears more weathered than usual and I wonder how that’s even possible.

  He stands up, puts his arm around me and says, “So you got something for me?”

  We walk away from the counter, both of us with beers in hand.

  “I do,” I tell him. He grins.

  “Well, out with it,” he yells. “I’m not into fucking guessing games, son.”

  “I’ve got some names for you. That bitch daughter of the president really hates his fucking guts. She told me she wanted to join a different club just to spite the old man,” I tell him.

  “Is that right?” he says looking completely intrigued.

  “Yeah. I didn’t tell her anything about this club. I didn’t know how you would feel about that.”

  He leans in closer. “Is she fucking hot?”

  “She sure is – she’s beautiful,” I tell him in all honesty.

  “Bring her in. If she’s good enough for my boy, I’d like to take a crack at her.”

  I realize that he’s completely serious, but I can’t get angry.

  “Fuck yes,” I tell him. We clink our beer bottles together and he throws his at the fireplace. He already has a fire in his eyes and he lights up.

  “I got these names for you,” I tell him as I reach into my pocket for the crumpled piece of paper. I unfold it and extend it to him. He reaches for it and scans it. He’s pleased.

  “Good work,” he says, smiling.

  “There are a couple of guys on the list that’ll change sides,” I say.

  “Good good, that’ll be good for our next step.”

  “What’s the plan?” I ask.

  “Next, you sneak around and confirm this shit. Just because daddy’s little girl tells you this information is right, it doesn’t mean it is.”

  “Yeah, good point,” I say, punctuating the statement with a gulp of my beer.

  “You should bring her in here soon, I’d like to see if she’s our type of club member,” he tells me, with a wink of his eye.

  “I’ll let you know if I can sneak her outta town to get her here. With the other daughter’s disappearance, the president has been up everyone’s asses.”

  “I get that, son, see what you can do,” he tells me.

  “You got it,” I say. I really can’t imagine bringing Trish into this place. I can only picture her in a huddle in the corner as my father rants and tries relentlessly to have his way with her. The thought infuriates me.

  I hang out there until I deem it safe to leave. Fights break out here all of the time and I don’t want any part of that.

  Hours pass and I’m three sheets in the wind. I gather that I will need some food before I take off to Hinton Township. I feel the urgent need to leave this place behind in the dust and find solace in Trish’s arms.

  The club begins filling up with prospects who all get a pat down on the way in. My father doesn’t trust anyone and thinks that his position of president in the club could be taken from him at any time. He watches over his goons as they all party and yell. He’s pleased. I feel a tightening in my stomach as if the other shoe is about to drop, but I don’t know why.

  Prospects sneer at me on the way in as they pass the pat down guy. I walk out, but sneer back at them to let them know that they would do well not to mess with me.

  On the way out, I hear a scuffle breaking out in the club. Two rough looking characters are going at it as I peer through a crack in the door. One is a tall, older guy with long black hair and the other a lan
ky dude with leathery skin covered in tattoos. The rumble happens to make me wish I am far away from this place. From the outside, I can hear beer bottles breaking, loud music, cussing and a woman screaming. It’s par for the course with regard to this club and I know in this moment that I am making the right decision in working with the Dragons.

  I think back to spending time with the Dragons and even in their darkest hour, nothing could quite compare to the ruckus inside my father’s club at this very moment. It’s an all-out brawl in there and I ask myself over and over how I could involve myself with criminals and hooligans.

  Walking around to the back of the club, a man confronts me. I don’t know his name, but I see him around every once in a while.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks with a devious grin on my face.

  “Any fucking where I want to,” I tell him snidely. I opt not to show weakness in this situation as it comes to mean you become a target of threats and violence. I front on this guy like I’ll get off of this bike and whoop his ass and he throws his hands in the air to indicate his defeat.

  “Fucking thought so,” I add just so he gets the picture. He backs away without taking his eyes off of me. This reminds me of my first days in my father’s club. I recall kicking ass at the drop of a hat at my father’s urging. He finds it cool when I get ruthless, but those days are long gone.

  I hop back on my bike and take off slowly. Kicking up the dirt surrounding the club, I realize that I can’t throw anyone off with my movements. I head back to the pavement and seek out somewhere to eat a quick bite. I’m not fit to ride anywhere outside of a two mile radius of my father’s club. I decide to stop at a restaurant down the way called Moe’s.

  Walking inside, I take surveillance of the place. It’s a typical greasy spoon with a giant blonde waitress at the front with menus. Her white square name-tag reads: Deborah.

  “Just one, dear?” she asks sweetly. She’s about six foot tall, has long blonde hair and green eyes. She’s wearing a ton of necklaces, rings and bracelets – so much that she jingles when she walks.

  “Yeah, just one,” I tell her. She makes her way to a booth in the back and I sit opposite of the menu she sits down on the table. I want my back to the wall just in case anything is to happen.

  I silently wonder to myself how she can walk around parading that much jewelry in a place like this. My question quickly receives an answer without my even having asked it.

  She leans down and whispers, “You might wanna come back later, honey. The manager doesn’t have the money for your people yet.”

  It instantly hits me that her manager is paying off my father’s club for protection from robberies and the like. I look up at her drunkenly and say, “I’m only here to eat, that money is not my concern.”

  She nods politely and says, “Do you know what you want or do you need a few minutes?”

  I glance at the menu and decide on the spot.

  “I’ll take a medium-well steak and eggs sunny side up,” I rattle off.

  She scribbles my order down on her greenish-white pad and says, “Okay honey, I’ll put that in for you right now.”

  I stop her with a touch of her arm.

  “Would you mind if I had some coffee, too, please?” I plead.

  “Sure thing, coming right up,” she says, happily walking over to the coffee pot. When dinner arrives, I devour it as if I were held hostage for days. I take my check to the register to pay and Deborah tells me, “It’s half off for you, sweetheart.”

  Sobering up, I question internally how I would get half off of my dinner. I gather that it’s because my father is a mongrel in this area and demands all of his people get a discount.

  “I’d rather pay the whole thing if you don’t mind,” I tell her. I don’t wish to take advantage of any of my father’s discounts.

  “If you’re sure,” she says as I hand her the check. She punches in some numbers on the register and I reach her a twenty dollar bill.

  “Alright, your change is six-forty,” she tells me with a smile.

  “Keep it, and thanks,” I tell her. I walk out the door and survey my surroundings. Now that I am sober, I rev up the bike and make my way home. After a short ride, I finally hit the dirt roads that encompass Hinton Township. I stop at the sign, whip my phone out and text Trish.

  “All is well, wanna meet up?” I text her.

  “Yeah, let’s meet at the Corkscrew,” she texts back.

  “Be there in ten,” I text her.

  Now that I have direction, I speed off into the night without the worry of being stopped by Barney Fife. Feeling the wind rushing toward my body, I ride to the Corkscrew where I notice Trish’s bike out front.

  I walk inside the place and see her sitting at the bar. She’s cute in her blue jeans, pink top and black boots. I prowl my way over to her and lean in to smell her perfume.

  “What in the –” she says, stopping herself after we make eye contact.

  “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself,” I tell her with a devilish grin on my face.

  She grins and begins questioning me.

  “So, what happened? Any word on my sister? Did you give your dad the list of names?” she presses.

  “Alright. I went there and he still claims that he doesn’t know anything about your sister’s disappearance. I don’t know if I fully believe him. He’s sneaky like that.”

  She nods to punctuate the end of my sentences and motions for me to go on.

  “I gave my dad the list of names. He seemed very pleased to know that a few of the guys on there would switch sides. There is one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He wants me to bring you to the club.”

  “He what?” she asks.

  “He wants to meet you to see if you’re the type of person he wants in the club.”

  “I’ll go,” she says, standing upright.

  “That’s brave, but I can’t let you do that,” I tell her.

  “And why not, if it helps sell the story, then I gotta do what I gotta do,” she relays.

  “No way, not now and not ever,” I challenge her.

  “Why not?”

  “Because my father has no dignity, no class and because of what he said he wanted to do to you,” I say.

  “What does he want to do to me?” she asks innocently, backing down in her seat.

  “He wants to have sex with you,” I tell her.

  “He wants to have sex with me?” she reiterates as if she didn’t hear me the first time.

  “That’s how they let women into the club. They have sex with them and it’s not just one guy. As a matter of fact, it’s usually most of the male members on one woman in the middle of the club.”

  “So gross,” she says when it all registers on her face. She looks full of disgust as she processes the thought.

  “Besides, I can’t protect you in there. I can protect you in Hinton Township, so it’s best we keep you here.”

  “So you can basically go out there and put yourself in danger, but I have to stay here?” she asks.

  “I know those people, you don’t. Believe me when I tell you, they would eat you alive out there.”

  “Alright, alright, I get it,” she caves.

  “Good.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “My father says that I should confirm the names on this list so we don’t have to take your ‘so-called’ word on it.”

  “Got it, well that should be easy,” she says beaming.

  “So, I figure I’ll go back there in a couple of days and tell him it’s done. I’ll tell him that you can’t come because your father has you being watched by one of the officers. I’ll say that he’s worried about a repeat incident with what happened with Sasha.”

  She nods in agreement. It’s a good plan.

  “What do we do now, then?”

  “I just told you,” I say with a snappy smile.

  “I mean right now, in this very moment?�
� She teases.

  “Anything you want,” I tell her.

  “How about we go back to your place?” She says without really asking.

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” I say as I slap a twenty on the counter to pay for whatever drinks she’s consumed.

  We walk out together and she follows me back to my place.

  Chapter Ten

  Trish Fitzgerald

  “Alright, I’m gonna get out of here,” I tell him as I look over at his groggy face. The light creeps through the window, threatening to fully wake him from his sleep.

  He barely acknowledges me with a brisk yawn and he nods that he’s listening.

  “Do you have to go already?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I’ve got things to do,” I tell him.

  “Talk later,” he says through a yawn and moments later, he covers his head with a pillow and snores.

  I walk out quietly and slip down the stairs and out of the door. I get on my bike, fastening my helmet on my head and zipping out of sight. My future conversation with my father is playing in my head and I think that this time, our talk will remain positive. He likes to yell when I get myself in too deep, but I’m hoping that things are peaceful when I get home.

  I head down the dirt path to our house and the Sheriff’s car is outside. I park out front and make my way inside quickly.

  “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald, I just wanted to give you an update on everything,” he tells them. They all acknowledge my presence with a nod in my direction, but they don’t stop talking.

  “We’ll keep you in the know if anything comes up,” he says. They both nod to the officer as if to say thank you and he leaves out of the front door.

  “What was that about?” I press them for information.

  “Sheriff Roberts just wanted us to know that they’re doing everything they can to find your sister,” my mother tells me.

  “It’s not enough,” my father growls. I can tell from the inflection in his voice that he’s pissed off again, as usual.

  “It’s not going to be enough until they find Sasha,” my mother tries to reassure him with an arm around his shoulder.

  She appears to have a calming effect on him and I think this is the time to spring my investigative discoveries on him.