by Melinda Minx
“So he’s like...a real biker?” Jane asks. “Like a gross, gnarly beard and all methed out?”
“No,” I say, putting the glass down. “Ripped body, just the right amount of stubble, and just manly. Like a man’s man? You know? Even the smell of him--”
“Wow!” Jane says. “He really got to you, huh? So you gave him your number.”
She winks at me, but I put my hands up in protest. “Just so he can tell me when the car’s ready. One of his mechanic friends is towing it in and taking a look at it.
“Uh huh,” Jane says. “Convenient excuse. If he’s as hot as you say, you should really just do something stupid with him.”
I laugh. “Really? That’s your feedback?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Because,” I say, “he’s dangerous.”
“That’s why he’s hot though,” Jane says. “Right?”
“Do you even know what a biker gang does?” I ask.
Jane pulls out her phone. “No, but we can look it up on Wikipedia.”
“You’re so lame,” I mutter under my breath, pretending like I hadn’t already thought of doing the exact same thing.
She starts typing and waits for the site to show up on her screen. I roll my eyes, pretending I’m not interested, but as she reads I start to feel impatient.
“Come on, Jane.”
“You sure he wasn’t methed out?” Jane asks, not looking up from her phone. “Because Wikipedia is talking a lot about meth here.”
“Do you even know what someone who is methed out looks like?” I ask. “Aside from what you’ve seen on TV?”
She shrugs. “So he didn’t seem methed out?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Doesn’t mean his gang isn’t dealing it.”
“Okay, forget it. I’m not doing it. I’ll just pick my car up, thank him, and be on my way.”
“Mhmm,” Jane mumbles. “Probably that’s the smart thing to do. But can I come with you when you go, just so I can see how hot he is? If he’s hot enough, it might change my opinion.”
“Sure,” I say. “You’ll have to drive me there anyway.”
“I’ve got to go to work in about an hour,” Jane says. “Let me show you around the house and help you get settled in your room. You’re probably ready to crash.”
“It’s like 4:00.”
“But you’ve been driving all day.”
“I’m ready to start working. I’d at least like to meet your boss and thank him for hiring me on such short notice.”
“Sure,” Jane says.
4
Stone
When I ride up to the shop, I still can’t get Joanna out of my head. She wanted me, but I wasn’t going to push it. If a chick wants me, she needs to at least admit it to herself. I don’t chase women, they chase me. Though for Jo, maybe I’d make an exception. If she keeps resisting me, at least.
Rigg comes outside and glares at me as I get off my bike.
“Decided you’d come by after all? Sure you’re not too busy for us?”
“Stop busting my balls,” I snap.
Rigg is part of the old guard of the Fallen Phoenix. My pops and Remmy started the MC, but Rigg was one of the first to join. I get on well with him, but we always give each other shit. Even before my pops died, Rigg felt like my uncle. He was always around when I was growing up, and he’s got my back.
“I guess Remmy’s pissed,” I say.
Rigg nods.
Fuck Remmy. I’ve been in the MC long enough that I shouldn’t be riding out to bully low-level meth heads brewing up low quality crystal in bathtubs.
“Remmy’s an old fart,” I say, looking up at Rigg. “His time is--”
Rigg shoves me. “Don’t say that shit out loud. Like Remmy ain’t already got it out for you enough as it is?”
“I’m loyal,” I say, my voice deadpan. “And he’s president, but I’m just saying he’s old.”
“And Lenk is clearly next in line,” Rigg says.
I shake my head. There’s a reason Rigg has never been in charge despite his seniority. He lacks vision.
“Fuck it,” I say. “I’ll go meet with Remmy now.”
“He’s gone already,” Rigg says. “Let’s just get a drink and wait for the others. We’ll iron out all the details for the thing next week.”
We hit the Chrome Hog, and J.C., Donny, and Derek are already inside, shooting pool and chugging beers.
“Hey, Chuck,” Rigg says to the owner. “Where’s Layla at?”
Chuck finishes washing a glass, then says, “Quit on me. She lasted two months. That must be a new record, huh?”
I see Rigg’s face droop with disappointment. “Shit, she’s gone?”
Chuck laughs. “Just said it, didn’t I? Guess she got tired of old farts like you ogling her tits all the time.”
I laugh. “Chuck, get me a Guinness.”
“Good luck finding a new bartender who will put up with us,” I say. “I’m sure people are just lined up for the job, huh?”
“No such luck,” Check says, sliding my drink to me. “I gotta find someone desperate enough to take the job and put up with you lot.”
I shake my head. “You gotta hire an old barmaid. A grizzled one who won’t put up with our shit.”
Rigg’s eyes bulge. “No way, Chuck, I need someone easy on the eyes.”
I roll my eyes. “Can’t have it both ways, Rigg, and you’re an old man now. Save your charm for someone your own age.”
Chuck shrugs. “Trust me, I’d like to hire someone who can just do the fucking job and knows what she’s doing. Hell, I’d hire a guy if I could. But nothing attracts thirsty customers like a young girl in way over her head.”
“Rigg’s thirsty alright,” I say, slamming him with my elbow.
I take a sip of my beer. It’s thick and bitter, just how I like it. I’ve never been thirsty for a woman. I’ve always had my choice of who to screw, and I’ve never gotten hard for one that wouldn’t let me put it in her.
I take a long swig of the beer, and the image of Joanna in that tight sundress with her body pressed up against me fills my mind. I finish the drink, but I still feel thirsty.
Fuck.
5
Joanna
“Here we are,” Joanna says. “The Grogg.”
I sigh.
I had an alright job in Denver. It was an office job, and I did menial crap, but I at least had my own cubicle. It’s been years since I worked at a bar like this. A college bar. And nothing looks more depressing than a dirty college dive bar in harsh daylight. There’s a reason the lights are always dim in places like this.
“It’s filthy,” I say.
“Wait until last call,” Jane says. “Then it’s filthy.”
“Well,” I say, “beggars can’t be choosers. I’m incredibly grateful to have anything.”
“I know this is just my side hustle,” Jane says, “but if the tip money wasn’t so good, I would never put up with it. Get like three or four shifts here per week and you won’t have to dip into your savings. Especially if you’re living with me.”
“Jane, I’ll move out as soon as I find a place. I don’t want to--”
“Shh!” she says, putting a finger up to my face. “Stay as long as you need. It’s cool to be roomies again.”
She smiles wide, but there’s no way I’m overstaying my welcome with her.
“Alright,” she says. “Let’s introduce you.”
She unlocks the door--the bar isn’t open yet--and brings me inside. All of the walls and floor are covered with scrawled graffiti. It’s as if the men’s bathroom has extended out into the bar itself.
“We kind of gave up fighting the graffiti,” Jane says. “Made it ‘our thing,’ you know?”
I nod.
She brings me down a narrow hallway and knocks on a closed door. “Hey, Gerry, it’s me!”
The door opens, and an old man with tufts of grey hair on either side of his head looks up at me. H
e was sitting at a desk covered in papers, and he has a pen wedged behind his ear.
“Hey, Jane, what’s up?”
“This is Joanna,” Jane says.
“She your sister or something?”
“No,” Jane says. “The girl I told you about. The one who needed work, you said she could--”
“Oh,” Gerry says, suddenly frowning. “I told you I could give her some shifts...I didn’t mean--”
“Gerry,” Jane says. “She just moved out here. She dropped everything and drove out from Denver.”
“I told you she could work some shifts. You want to give up your shifts for her? You want to split them? As it is, we got enough people who want shifts, and people who have been here and put in the time get priority. If anyone wants to take off, we can put Joanna on standby or whatever, but I don’t see her getting more than one shift per week…”
I feel my chest tighten. Fuck, I’m stupid. I suddenly remember how Jane is optimistic to the point of being naive. She probably thought Gerry said I could get a job, but that’s only because she hears one thing and interprets it in the most optimistic possible light.
And Jane thinks I have ‘savings.’ More optimism. I have maybe enough to put down a deposit on an apartment, but not enough to pay a month’s rent. Forget food or paying to fix my car. I need a job.
“I’ll take whatever shifts I can get,” I say. “Anything.”
Gerry narrows his eyes at me. “Anything?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Even one shift a week. I’ll work hard and earn my way up.”
“If you’re really hard up for cash,” Gerry says, “my buddy Frank might be able to get you a full-time gig.”
Jane grabs my wrist, and she lights up. Her optimism is shining through already, but I can already see the look in Gerry’s face. He’s looking at me like I’m a sucker.
“What’s the catch?” I ask.
“You know that bikers aren’t as bad as their reputation might make you think,” Gerry says. “A lot of MCs run charity events, and--”
“You want her to work at a biker bar?” Jane asks.
Gerry shrugs. “I don’t want her to do anything. Frank just told me he needed someone, and I’m trying to help him out. Joanna said she--”
“I’ll do it,” I say, not really thinking it over. “Tell Frank I’ll start as soon as he needs me.”
Gerry looks at me like I’m an even bigger sucker now. “I’ll give him a call. You couldn’t start tonight, could you?”
“Sure, I could,” I say.
Jane grabs my arm as Gerry pulls out his phone. She whispers into my ear. “Meth dealers, Joanna.”
“Stone helped me. They can’t all be bad. And this place is kind of a shithole anyway, how much worse could bikers be?”
Jane’s face breaks into a smile. “You just want an excuse to see him again, don’t you?”
“No,” I lie. “I just want a job. And it’s not like there’s only one biker bar. What are the chances Stone even goes there?”
“Well,” Jane says. “If you two are meant to be together--”
I cut her off. “Meant to be together? I haven’t even pecked the guy on the cheek. And there’s no way I’d be together with a biker gang dude.”
“I’m just saying, if you work at that bar and Stone is there, then maybe it’s a sign, you know? Maybe you should do it.”
“Do what?”
An evil smile covers her face. “You know exactly. Don’t play innocent.”
Gerry walks back over and pockets his phone. “You can start tonight.”
I feel excitement surge over me, and the memory of the bike tearing across the desert plays through my mind. My hands wrapped around that rock-hard body. My legs spread and pressed up against his ass.
“I’ve got some advice for you,” Gerry says.
I look up at him, waiting.
“Don’t say ‘biker gang,’ they get prickly about that. It’s an ‘MC,’ alright?”
I nod.
He looks at me, and I can tell he’s about to give me another piece of advice--another warning. He clearly overheard me talking to Jane, but he holds his tongue.
“Jane,” Gerry says. “You can start your shift later and drive Jane to the place. It’s called the Chrome Hog.”
I’m glad I dressed up as if I was going to be working at The Grogg because Jane doesn’t have time to swing back to her place and let me change. I’m wearing a low-cut shirt and tight jeans that really hug my ass. It’s an outfit designed to get me tips, and it should work just as well in a biker bar as in a college dive bar. Outlaws and frat guys all like cleavage.
Jane has been talking nervously the whole drive. “If you feel unsafe or uncomfortable at all, please, please call me. I can drop whatever I’m doing and come get you. And I’ll try to leave my shift a bit early so I can be there before the biker bar closes down, I don’t want you stuck there alone at night--”
“Jane,” I say. “Thank you. Really. I will call you at the first hint of danger, I promise. And I’ll make sure not to be outside alone at closing time. Gerry said Frank is a solid guy, so I should be safe. You trust Gerry, right?”
Jane nods. “He’s a good guy, yeah.”
“So I will be safe.”
“I’d just feel awful if something bad happened to you after I had you come here. And then the job I promised you wasn’t there, and you got stuck doing this--”
“It’s okay, really. I still ended up getting a job. Just at a different bar than we thought.”
When Jane drives up to the Chrome Hog, there’s only six or so bikes parked outside. I look nervously at them, trying to see if I spot Stone’s bike.
I see one that might be his, but I realize that all the bikes kind of look the same. Even though I rode his bike just hours ago, I’ve forgotten what it looks like. I was focusing mostly on Stone’s body, not on the bike itself.
“Want me to go in with you?” Jane asks.
I look over the place. It looks a bit like a bar you’d see in a post-apocalyptic movie. There is no parking lot, just a place for bikes to park. The desert sand goes all the way up to the entrance, and the whole place looks worn and weathered. It’s an entirely different type of shitty, rundown look compared to the Grogg.
“No,” I say. “Thanks though. I want to go in looking confident. I feel like they could smell my fear if I go in there with a friend.”
6
Stone
Remmy finally walks in, and he glares at me. He’s as old as Rigg, but his status as President coupled with his old man strength still makes him an imposing figure. Despite his age, he still has a thick head of hair, though it’s long been silver. He’s got more patches on his jacket than anyone in the MC, and he walks with more arrogance than anyone I’ve ever seen.
“Stone,” he barks.
I’m leaning against the pool table and shooting the shit with J.C., but I stop the conversation and look over at him when he calls my name. Still, I make a point to not straighten up, and I lean further back against the table. I’ll show him respect, but I won’t jump to attention when he barks at me.
“Tomorrow night,” he says, pointing at me. “You’re running point.”
“Lenk got a big date?” I ask.
Lenk always runs point, and Rigg never trusts me with important jobs. I narrow my eyes at him.
“You’re always bitching that you don’t get to take on big jobs,” Remmy says.
He’s standing right in front of me now, just on the verge of being up in my face. He’s almost a full foot shorter than me, but it doesn’t show. His arrogance and authority adds at least 11 inches to his frame.
“Alright,” I say, “I’m running point.”
“Choose your own crew,” Remmy says. “No more than four guys. This should be a quick in and out, do the damage and get out. Make it stealthy.”
I nod.
“Now,” Remmy says, shoving his finger into my chest. “If you’re ever late for a meeting again and mak
e me come find you again like this…”
His eyes widen and his face flares with anger. Rather than saying what he’ll do, he just jabs his finger into my chest again as he stares me down.
I give him a hard look back, not giving him any signs of weakness. We stare each other down for a few tense moments, and then he turns his back to me and walks back out of the bar.
Before I know it, Rigg slides up next to me and says, “So you’re running point, huh?”
For an old man, Rigg has cat-like hearing. I realize that could be a nice asset on a stealthy raid.
“Sure am,” I say, leaning back casually, not letting any of the anger toward Remmy show. “Don’t know if there’s room for old men on this one.”
Rigg punches my arm. “Arrogant fuck, you know you’re bringing me with you.”
I grin at him. “Of course you’re coming with me, old man. I’m just fucking with you.”
“Who else you wanna bring?” Rigg asks.
“J.C.,” I say. “And Malik.”
“Malik?” Rigg says, eyes bulging, “What the fuck for? Does that kid even have hair on his balls?”
“Dunno,” I say, shrugging. “I’ve never checked.”
I lean closer in toward Rigg and speak in a low voice. “He’s fresh blood. He doesn’t have any developed loyalties yet. If I’m going to be running point and choosing my own crew, I can build up my allegiances. Maybe Lenk won’t be such a sure shot for president in a year or two?”
Rigg stares me down and shakes his head. He speaks in a harsh whisper. “You’re running point one time, Stone, don’t let it go to your head, and don’t get no dangerous ideas from it.”
Rigg lacks ambition, but I still give his advice some weight. I shouldn’t move too fast, that’s true. Lenk and Remmy would sniff that out too fast. On the other hand, I shouldn’t suddenly start kissing their asses, they’d see through that even faster. I’ll want to walk a fine line--show begrudging respect, and perform.