by Rana Raynes
“Why don't you give me a call when you know?” Jay picks up a pen from the side table. Aunt Mabel must have left it there, along with her crosswords. He scribbles his number on the margin of the newspaper.
I'm less and less convinced this date is going to happen. “With you working days and me working nice it might be a little difficult to agree on a time...”
My insecurity must have been apparent because Jay does his best to reassure me.
“Don't worry, I'm prepared to drop everything when you tell me you've got time for me, promise.”
But my doubts once roused are not easily appeased. To me it's already obvious that he's lying. The facts aren't in his favour. It's a Saturday evening and he can't stay with me because of some ominous business he has to take care of. How am I supposed to believe that?
But then he takes my hand and presses his lips to its back and that's too nice to be angry with him any longer.
“Okay then,” I concede. “I'll let you know when I'm free as soon as I've talked to Amber.”
He gives me another radiant smile.
“Now... what should we do on that date,” he muses, placing more kisses on my hand, as if it wasn't completely self-evident what we're going to do: continue doing this of course. I've got this tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach just thinking about it.
“Have you ever been on a motorcycle?” Jay asks, jerking me out of my dreams.
I shake my head. “No, I haven't.”
“Do you want to try it? I could take you for a spin. Don't know, show you my favourite lake maybe?”
“That sounds great.” It really does. Even though I would much prefer him to stay now. But it looks like it can't be helped. If he's got to go he'll have his reasons.
I tag along when he goes inside to get his things.
“Call me, baby,” he says between kisses when we're saying goodbye at the door. As if I'd forget. Then he's gone. I stand in the open door, leaning against the wooden frame, until the drone of his bike has faded in the distance.
It's only then that I notice my car, parked at the curb. So they did take care of it, and promptly, just as promised.
There's a happy smile on my face when I finally get inside again.
Chapter 8
Jay
I'm fucking mad. I don't think I've been so angry since I beat up Nick Walker in eighth grade. It costs me every ounce of self-control I have not to let it show. Kat isn't supposed to see this side of me. And I managed pretty well so far, playing the hand-tame tomcat. It's one of the reasons why for a couple of hours I had realistic hopes for great night with her. Everything looked so promising: Her aunt getting over her prejudices, the glances Kat gave me over dinner, the dance on the porch. Fucking perfect.
And then Leon calls me to tell me they need me at Johnny's strip club because some shit is going down there and the whole prospect of sweet lovemaking vanishes into thin air. Instead I'm looking forward to a spontaneous night shift with Leon.
But I guess he's right to say I have to come. Some things simply can't be helped. Still, I would have given anything to stay with Kat. It's already the second evening I got interrupted while kissing her – and this time I was so convinced we would go further, all the way perhaps. In my mind's eye I had already seen her naked on her bed, pulling me closer, over her, into her. Fuck, I'm going to die of a serious case of blue balls if this goes on like that.
No wonder that now all the desire I had for her, all the love and affection, turns toxic, into pure venomous aggression. I can't help it, I want to smash my fist into the face of whoever is responsible for this. I swear, they're going to pay for it, and if it's the last thing I do.
Leon couldn't give me details on the phone but from what I've gathered we've got ourselves a Nazi problem. Apparently the episode at the supermarket was only an overture and there's more drama to come. So far we were rather sure our main problems were the Devils, a rival motorcycle club from down south. We've had disagreements about territory since forever and we thought that after years of simmering conflict they finally decided to do something about it. Start a war. Looks like the Nazis smelled their chance to get their share of the cake while we were distracted. I just don't get why they think they'd get away with something like that.
“Perhaps they made a deal with the Devils,” Leon suggested, I didn't have to see his face, his smirk audible.
Even though I rolled my eyes at the bad joke I have to admit he's probably right. The Devils have no direct interest in our business ventures. All they care about is limiting our influence. At least that's our guess. Maybe we're wrong. It's hard to tell, things aren't as clear as they once were.
Sometimes I think we should just give up the whole idea of having a territory, rules and responsibilities. You can ride a bike without belonging to an MC. Hell, you can have an MC that doesn't care about business interests. 99 percent of MCs are just relatively loose associations of people who enjoy riding a bike. There's no real reason we couldn't become one of them, just let it go and make the lifestyle a hobby. But then I'm probably already in too deep to get out now and the last thing I'm going to do is surrender Grand Oaks to fucking Nazis. If there's something we can't abide it's the thought of those white supremacist assholes taking over our town. If they believe we'll stand idly by while they're making themselves at home here, they're thoroughly mistaken.
Once I arrive at Johnny's I can see what's going on: It's a demonstration of strength. The parking lot is crawling with bikers. More than half the club is here to show face, brothers are leaning against cars, drinking beer. Music is coming out of one of the cars. All in all it looks more like a party than manning the trenches but for anyone with hostile intentions it will send the right message.
Shaking hands and patting shoulders I make my way past my brothers into Johnny's strip club where I'm told Leon is waiting for me with details about the situation.
Inside the air is thick with music and stage fog and the typical odours of a party crowd: sweat, perfume, after-shave, alcohol. It's a Saturday evening so the place is packed with people. Just ordinary guys looking for a bit of fun. On the stage a curvy blonde takes off her glittering top to the cheers of her audience. It looks like business is good today. Probably no one here has noticed something is off. I hope it stays that way.
I find Leon in the office backstage, feet on the desk, a walkie-talkie next to his boots. Johnny, the owner of the joint is there too, pacing up and down nervously, smoking cigarette after cigarette to calm his nerves while Leon fills me in.
A handful of guys made trouble earlier this evening, trying to get past the door by force. The bouncers got rid of them, but after the troublemakers threatened to return with reinforcements, they decided to call for backup. That's why everyone's here now.
“Don't you think it could be a diversion?” I ask Leon when he's stopped talking. “What if they try to burn down the Ace again or attack the garage while we're all here, getting drunk and staring at tits.”
“Greg and his guys are at the garage and I've reactivated some of our retired members for the party that takes place at the clubhouse today,” Leon says. “They're going to keep an eye on the situation in town. If things go south there, the cops are just around the corner...”
He looks at me as if I'm about to throw a temper. He's aware of course that I won't be happy about this. No one will be happy about this. Not the Prez. Not even Leon himself. Perhaps least of all Leon. We don't want the state to meddle in our affairs. To be honest it surprises me that he's so matter of fact about it.
“I know it's a last resort but we're a motorcycle club, not an army,” he says. So that's the real reason why he's so reasonable about this – we don't have the manpower to see this through on all fronts. And no wonder.
“Okay, so how many Nazis are we expecting?”
“From what we've seen so far, more than twelve,” Leon says.
Now I understand why he insisted on me coming here. If we're expecting more
than a dozen opponents, we do need every man.
“Weapons?” I ask.
“I brought the guns from the club house.”
I nod. We've got an armoury at the club house where we keep weapons registered to club members. The official explanation is that they're safely locked away there and won't fall into the wrong hands. But they're there in case they're needed of course, like today. So Leon can bring them along and hand out guns everyone is legally entitled to carry so if anything goes wrong, we're not facing illegal weapons charges at least. It's also more difficult to allege criminal intent. The only thing we got to worry about is perhaps premeditation but we're entitled to carry our guns and we're not going to shoot first, so it's essentially only self-defence. It's not watertight but you do what you can.
If we're getting attacked here, there's no way it can be hushed up, the place is crawling with civilians – that's why we hope no one's going to be so stupid to do this right in the spot light. Not to mention the fact it would probably end in a blood bath. There are too many uninvolved people here who could get into a panic, start a stampede or end up between the lines. I don't even want to think about what catastrophic outcomes a shooting might have.
“What do you think, are they going to risk it?” I ask. “Open conflict, I mean.”
Leon slowly, thoughtfully shakes his head. “I don't know. No one can tell with them. If they're fanatics, if they're convinced what they're doing is ideologically necessary, they might… But my guess is that they're just flexing their muscles.”
I feel I need a drink to calm my nerves but probably I already had more than I should have. Leon seems to sense my irritation because he pats me reassuringly on the shoulder.
“I called you away from your new girlfriend, didn't I?”
I groan. “Don't remind me.”
“So bad, huh?” He grins.
We usually don't talk details, a gentleman never tells, but we've known each other for so long and partied so hard and so often and spend so much time with each other on a daily basis, we have a pretty good grasp of how the other feels about a woman. I'm sure he has no doubts that I'm serious about Kat. He's seen me with enough meaningless flings to be able to spot the difference. And there is undeniably a huge difference between thinking a girl is cute and looking for a bit of fun with her and this bone-deep desire for someone that has comes over you like a fever. My whole body is aching with longing for her. I'd call it blue balls but that would be too flippant, it's more romantic than that.
“You know, I never really understood those old black and white Hollywood movies, all those guys who were crazy about a woman, but now I get it.”
“Hold your horses, Cary Grant. You've only known her since yesterday.”
I smooth my hair back theatrically which doesn't have the effect to make me look one bit more like Cary Grant but at least it makes Leon laugh.
“Speaking of women,” I say. “Is it something more serious with Amber this time?”
“Oh man, I wish. But you know how she is – she doesn't want to get dragged further into the whole club business. That's what she's always been saying. I hoped things had calmed down enough for her to think it might work. And then, boom. I mean, have you ever heard of a case of worse timing? And we had such a great time until we got interrupted by those assholes with their Molotov cocktails.”
I don't mean to do it but my brain automatically exchanges Leon and Amber for Kat and me in this story. I not only imagine how it would have felt to be so lost in the taste and feel of her, so close, so intimate, only to be brought down to earth with a jolt or rather the sound of breaking glass, but also how I would expect her to react: with a fight or a flight impulse for example, and I wonder, would she take up arms so to speak, like Leon and Amber must have done since they managed to extinguish the fire in time, or would she freeze up, frightened, shocked, terrified even. Whatever it would be, it's something I hope I'll never have to find out. Being under attack is nothing you want your loved ones go through.
“How is she holding up?” I ask. Amber is a tough cookie but the fact she's always been aware of the risks of our lifestyle hasn't left her with much sympathy now that we seem so close to a worst case scenario.
Leon knows and he is visibly devastated. “She was mostly angry. She didn't believe me when I told her we did nothing to provoke this. And I guess I can give up the hope of ever bringing her around to the idea of us being together.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah well...” He picks up a cigarette and lights it. “Days like this makes you wonder if it's actually worth it.” He takes a drag, pulls the smoke deep down into his lungs before he continues. “You know, I love you guys, and I love the life, but...” He pauses again to exhale. “Sometimes the price seems awfully high.”
I get the sentiment. What would I choose if my life style fundamentally conflicted with something I wanted so badly? What's the more reasonable sacrifice to make? I've seen it go both ways, people who chose love over their brothers, people who chose their brothers over love and somehow there's never a happy ending. There's always the risk of being resentful of a decision that makes you forgo one thing for the other.
The walkie-talkie on the desk crackles to life.
“You might wanna come outside, we have visitors.” Danny voice comes in, slightly tinny but unmistakable.
“We'll be there in a second,” Leon says and gets to his feet. He looks at me, the question unspoken but I know what he means to ask: Are you ready? I nod.
My body has switched to alarm mode, my heart picks up pace, my hands clench into fists. My head is empty, my mind clear when I follow Leon outside.
Chapter 9
Kat
I hear the drone of his motorcycle before I can see it. It's growing louder as the bike comes up the street, swelling into a roar that's vibrating like thunder in my stomach. I'm nervous as it is and the sound only adds to my queasiness. It's been more than a week since our dinner date and we've only seen each other in passing since.
I wipe my hands on my jeans to make sure my palms aren't sweaty. I've dressed for the occasion in jeans, boots, even a leather jacket; you don't drive around on a bike in a light summer dress and sandals. But the protective layers of my outfit are definitely not suited for the temperatures. Too much fabric for a hot day like this. It can't be helped of course, but I do hope the airstream on the bike will cool me down a little, otherwise I'll be melting soon.
As Jay pulls up on his bike in front of the house it occurs to me that these days driving a motorbike is pretty much the closest you get to a man riding a horse up your lawn. Jay wears neither a top hat nor shining armour but he makes my heart race nonetheless. He gets off the bike, takes off his helmet and walks up towards me, smiling.
“Hey babe,” he says, leaning in to kiss me on the mouth. I expect the kiss to be brief, but his lips linger. Their touch is soft, sensual, and they nip gently at mine so I open up, let him slip his tongue into my mouth. A warm tingling sensation is spreading in my stomach, washing through me in a wave of excitement.
So that's where we are, I think when he breaks away. Already an official couple it seems.
“Nice outfit,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before kissing me again.
If you ask me we don't have to go anywhere at all. We could just stay here and kiss until it's time to go to bed, if you catch my drift. But Jay has self-control for the both of us, enough at least not to give in to temptation, or maybe he thinks, all kisses and intimacy aside, it's inappropriate to skip the trip to the lake and fall straight into bed with me.
“You look ravishing,” he whispers into my ear, then he takes a step back. “Are you ready?”
Of course I am.
He takes my hand when we walk to the motorcycle parked a the curb. He hands me a second helmet he brought for me and helps me putting it on. It's a strange feeling to have it on my head.
“I've never been on a motorbike,” I remind him w
hen I clamber up behind him.
“Don't worry, I'll be careful. Just hold on to me.”
He places my hands on his hips and then the machine roars to life beneath us. A jolt and we're going. It's a strange feeling, how the speed affects the body, the pull of gravity, the acceleration, almost like I imagine flying, as if we're trying to escape the laws of physics. It's amazing.
When we go into the first serious curve I wrap my arms tighter around him and press myself against his back. Travelling like this is so intimate, and also thrilling. The landscape flies by like the backdrop of a film, it's just us, the warmth of Jay's body, the caress of the wind, the speed, oh the speed!
I never really got what's so sexy about motorcycles but I can feel it now, vibrating in my bones. It's a palpable flavour of liberty. I feel nearly drunk on it when we finally reach our destination and get off the machine.
My knees are a little wobbly for a moment but that might also be Jay's presence, who uses the first opportunity to hug me and kiss me again. It takes him about a minute to let go of me to allow me to have a first good look at the place.
The scenery is wonderful – the lake is surrounded by trees, looming dark into the bright blue sky. The water lies clear and quiet like a mirror before us. Perhaps the best thing about this spot is that there is no one but us. There's not a soul in sight. It's as if this place popped into existence just for our date.
“What do you think?” Jay asks as we walk hand in hand down towards the water.
“Oh it's beautiful.” I'm not exaggerating. It's magical here. The air, the sunshine, the soft sounds of nature. Jay pulls me close again and brushes his lips against mine, only a fleeting, casual caress but my heart picks up a pace.
“Are you up for a swim?” he asks.
“For a swim?” I echo. Somehow I didn't anticipate that. “I don't know, I didn't bring any swimwear...”