by Xander Hades
Hoodoo glared down at Mad-dog’s six-foot-five frame and said in a slow growl, “I need to talk to her! That’s what! She was in front o’ that place last night, maybe she has a room there.”
“There are six HUNDRED THOUSAND people here!” Mad-dog said, throwing up his hands in disgust, narrowly missing a woman with purple hair, teased out in elaborate spikes. “How you gonna find her in all that? Hell, most folk are camped out in the dirt, under tents!”
Hoodoo swung his arms, ignoring the three girls in short shorts and leather tops that could have come off the set of Wonder Woman. They jumped out of the way, giggling. “I start where I was,” he said, grinning. He clapped Mad-dog’s shoulder. “And work it from there.”
“You didn’t hear a word I said!”
“And it’s a good thing,” Hoodoo called over his shoulder, as he took off at a jog back the way he’d come. “I would have had to hurt you!”
“We’ll catch up,” Mad-dog called behind him, but already his voice was faint, and in all that noise, Hoodoo wasn’t sure he’d actually heard it at all.
***
Hoodoo walked with purpose. Now that he’d made up his mind what he wanted to do, he was going to do it. He’d gone across the busy street, leapt onto the other sidewalk before it occurred to him that he had nowhere to do it. It was one thing to start where he’d seen her last, but now, in the flow and roar of the constant traffic, the press of people, it was harder to envision finding one person in so many. How many had Mad-dog said? More than half a million? His mind boggled, but looking around he could believe it. The constant roar of engines had become a part of the background, the way you stopped noticing the ocean when you’d been on the beach long enough. The smell of exhaust was thick in the air. And everywhere there were vendors. Things to buy. Things to see. Just…people to talk to who spoke your own language. At any other time, Hoodoo would have been in heaven.
Except he knew somewhere in all this mess was Tracy. And God only knew what was happening to her right now. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in trouble.
OK, so find the girl. Think, mon!
The Crocker was a unique bike. That would stand out from the crowd, but there were still thousands of bikes to be looked at. And eliminating one street wouldn’t mean anything, she could just as easily park it there, while he was looking elsewhere. It was like watching for a frog riding down the river on a tree branch. When there’s been a flood and the river was nothing but tree branches and frogs.
OK, maybe that was a bad analogy.
“So, where are we off to?” Mad-dog said, appearing at his side as though he hadn’t been running to catch up. The way he was gasping for breath, half-hunched over with his hands on his knees was a dead giveaway, though.
“Thought this was ‘stupid’,” Hoodoo reminded him, pretending not to notice the way Mad-dog was wheezing.
“I’m your wingman,” Mad-dog shrugged as he slowly straightened, his face flushed. “You do stupid, I do stupid. It don’t matter, I’m still your wingman.”
Hoodoo smiled. OK, maybe he wouldn’t mention to Mad-dog how the man needed to lay off the cheese puffs. As friends went, he was pretty decent. Especially since Hoodoo knew he’d been self-absorbed since Tracy showed up. Yet even knowing it, his mind wouldn’t go anywhere else. “I don’t know where,” he admitted, gesturing at the crowd in dismay. “I don’t know where she’d been staying, Loki saw her almost an hour ago, she’s not still in the restaurant…”
“So? Look for a Bandit and ask?”
Hoodoo raised an eyebrow. “That actually made sense.”
“See? You need me.” Mad-dog grinned. “Let’s start cruising for Bandits.”
“You’re not just a pretty face.” Hoodoo laughed, feeling more hopeful than he had all day.
“Nope.” Mad-dog agreed. “Not just. But it never hurts to be pretty too.”
They walked for several minutes before Mad-dog disappeared. Hoodoo looked around, but his friend was nowhere in the press of people. He retraced his steps, but couldn’t find him. He stopped cold, wondering how the hell he could lose someone in the space of a city block. And just how hopeless looking for one scrappy girl was.
Hoodoo pulled out his cell phone and dialed Mad-dog’s number and heard the opening strains of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant” song seeming to come from right behind him. It was Mad-dog’s ringtone. Hoodoo spun and canceled the call.
“Where were you?” he asked, knowing for damn certain that his friend hadn’t been there a minute ago.
“We need to talk,” Mad-dog said, grabbing Hoodoo’s arm and towing him forward several paces. “But not here.”
Hoodoo dug in his heels. “Why? What…”
“Bro, your lady love’s in trouble.”
Hoodoo glanced over his shoulder back the way he’d come. Something there had spooked Mad-dog.
Mad-dog didn’t spook.
This time when Mad-dog grabbed Hoodoo’s arm, he was able to lead him unresisting through the crowd and back to the booth.
Chapter Five
“Alright,” Mad-dog said as soon as they were back. The whole crew was assembled, even the brothers who’d showed up within minutes of Val’s frantic text. She’d taken one look at Mad-dog and started tapping away at her smartphone, her fingers a blur. Hoodoo wondered sometimes how her fingers could move so fast, and yet she’d still somehow manage to drop the most breakable thing in the room just by virtue of standing next to it.
Mad-dog drained a bottle of water and crumpled it in his hand. “I saw a couple of Bandits walking off and figured if I could catch them, I could ask about the girl, who she was with and all. But I got close and gave up that idea fast. I heard them talking, y’see. And what they was saying was more interesting than anything I could ask them. They were arguing, and one of them was saying that someone named ‘Pete’ had found a buyer.” Mad-dog shook his head. “That coulda meant anything, but then the guy next to him says, ‘it would have to be someone that just wanted to look at it and not ride it.”
Val’s eyebrows raised. Hoodoo met her gaze and shook his head, warning her to not interrupt.
“First guy asked what he means, and he says, it’s too distinctive, anyone would know it was stolen, hell, there’s nothing else like it on the road. But then the other guy says, ‘if you can pay out that much for a bike, you can afford fake papers.’”
“Wait,” said Danny, “they planning on taking your girlfriend’s bike?”
“I thought she was one of them?” Andy added, eyes wide. Gangs didn’t work that way. Not with their own members. Gang was family.
“There’s not much else it could be,” Loki said with a shrug. Hoodoo could see the wheels turning, working out the angles. “Rare distinctive bike, really expensive, ‘nothing like it on the road’. What else could it be? That Crocker has been the showpiece of the rally, most think it’s a fake, a mockup of current parts because no one would be stupid enough to risk it here.” He turned to Hoodoo. “Sorry, boss, but that’s the current theory.”
“They’re talking about it?” This was new, and Hoodoo wondered how in the hell Loki was getting his information. They’d only left the booth an hour ago.
“Where is it now?” Val asked.
“She put it on loan to the Motorcycle Museum for the duration of the rally. It’s their top display and they’re drooling all over themselves trying to figure out how to make it permanent.”
“Well, that’s something, right? The museum has to have pretty good security, they’ve got a lot invested in the displays.” Val turned from one to the other, apparently looking for validation. “I mean it’s gotta be safe there, right?”
Mad-dog shrugged, but it was Loki that answered her. “Maybe, but that’s not a given. She still has to go home after, though. I highly doubt she’s going to want to walk back to Chicago from here.”
“And what if she gets hurt?” Hoodoo said, with a grim certainty that she wouldn’t give up that bike easy. Not Tracy. She�
��d go down fighting.
None of this made sense. How in the hell was she hanging with Bandits? “She can’t be riding with them, despite what you saw, Loki. She has to be…” he shook his head. “Momma Leonna would say she was under a spell,” he paused, struggling to find the words. “Not a voodoo spell, more like a pretty face spell.”
“Guy I saw wouldn’t exactly fit that.” Loki laughed. “He was an ugly bastard. But maybe he charmed her? Like a con man?”
Hoodoo considered this. He’d have to be a hell of a charmer. The Tracy he knew was suspicious by nature. There was no way she’d fall for any cock and bull story thrown at her. It would have to be mighty convincing.
What could someone say to get a girl like Tracy to ride with them?
He shook his head. “Whatever the case, I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I at least need to warn her.”
“Maybe.” Danny mused.
“But you can’t find her,” Andy added.
“Drives me nuts when they do that,” Loki mumbled to no one in particular.
“Well, I can’t just stay here!” Hoodoo sprang to his feet. “Who’s watching the booth?”
“I got it.” Val offered, then shrugged when the others stared at her. “Well it’s not like I have anything better to do. Unlike some people, I don’t have all this drinking and fighting to do. Puts a lot more time on my hands.”
“You watched it all morning,” Hoodoo waved her off, “You’re going to miss the rally.”
“No,” Val insisted. “I want to. Really.”
All the men watched her closely. “Talk to me, Val,” Hoodoo’s deep basso brought her up sharply.
“it’s no big deal,” she said, but her eyes wouldn’t quite meet his. Something was up. Hoodoo wasn’t going to let her get away with that. Not even now when he wanted nothing more than to go find Tracy, to try and protect her somehow.
Val was family. You didn’t treat family that way.
He stared at her until she threw her arm up and said, “FINE! I just want to sit this day out, ok? Just take it easy one day and then back at it tomorrow.”
The men shuffled in some confusion but nodded, albeit reluctantly, and began to disperse.
“You need any company?” Loki asked on his way out.
“No! I’m fine, really. Just go help the big guy find his girl, ok?”
“Only Mad-dog and I actually saw her,” Loki said after a minute. “And only for a moment. I don’t know if we’ll know it’s her, anyway.”
“Good hunting, then.” Val’s face curled around a half-smile and she rolled over the table to the back of the booth. “Come on down, we’re open!” she called to passersby, with all the enthusiasm of the most die-hard busker.
Hoodoo watched her for a moment and turned to the rest of his crowd. They exchanged raised eyebrows and surreptitious shrugs. He decided to let it go, for now. Val could handle herself, he’d seen her fight before, but if someone was giving her grief every member of the Gilas would come down on him like an avalanche of bikers. She wanted to be one of the guys, and Hoodoo thought they did that as best they could, she’d proven she wasn’t a delicate princess type, but it was still like having your kid sister with you. Any of the Gilas would have her back at a moment’s notice.
“Alright,” he relented. “Thank you. Try to not give away the store, alright?”
“Don’t worry.” She smiled the same predatory grin she got whenever she faced a new challenge. She unzipped her vest and revealed a mid-rift-baring shirt that said “I” and a big heart symbol. What it was she hearted was forever lost in the discarded fabric below that.
Mad-dog whistled appreciatively.
“Yeah,” Loki nodded, gesturing at the many appreciative male glances aimed in her direction. “She’s got this.” He turned to Hoodoo. “I’ll head to the museum, make sure the bike is there, maybe she’s there with it?”
Hoodoo nodded and clasped his man’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“I’ll start where Loki saw her. If she ate breakfast there, maybe she’ll come back for lunch,” Mad-dog offered. Hoodoo pretended not to notice the way the big guy rubbed at his belly. Yeah. Lunch. Right.
“We haven’t seen her,” Danny said.
“But we can sniff around The Bandits, see what we can find out.”
“Carefully.” Hoodoo warned, not entirely happy with this plan. “No fights.”
“Us?” They said together. They tried damn hard to look innocent, he had to give them that. Hoodoo stole one more look at Val as the others filtered out.
“Someone givin’ you troubles?” he rumbled.
Val laughed and shook her head slowly. “Yeah,” she admitted. “An auntie of mine.”
Hoodoo looked at her with his brow knitted. “Auntie?”
Val caught her lower lip between her teeth, “Auntie Flo,” she whispered and waited. She balled a fist and knocked on Hoodoo’s chest. “First day of my period?”
Hoodoo stood back, holding up his hands in surrender. “Ok, got it, sorry, didn’t mean to…”
Val’s grin grew wider. “Sometimes it’s hard to ride, and too much activity…”
“No!” Hoodoo backed up a step, catching his foot on the table and dragging it a couple of inches before catching himself. “I get it, sure…”
“I’ll pick these up…” Val offered.
“Yeah, ok,” Hoodoo smiled and waved, “Ok, back soon… uh… looking good.” He ducked out and kept walking. It might have been the wandering buskers entertaining the crowd or one of the cute dogs in leathers, but he could have sworn he’d heard laughter as he set off in search of Tracy.
Chapter Six
Hoodoo walked through the dusty streets, endless rivers of bikes flowing up and down as the riders drove to experience the joy of riding. The growling, deep-throated sound of thousands of bikes all rolling at once washed over him, through him and past him. Funny how he noticed the sound now, the rumble vibrating in his chest until it felt like he had become part of it, this whole wild crazy mess.
She was, too. Somewhere out there…perhaps she felt the same rumble in her chest. Felt that she too had become a piece of something that was making history. This was Sturgis. How was it he’d never thought to bring her here?
Preoccupied with the past, Hoodoo walked in an isolated bubble, remembering the way Tracy felt on his arm, the way her hair smelled, the warmth of her pressed against him. The days she came to see him in Arizona (leaving that damn Crocker in storage, where it belonged). They’d taken a ride to the Grand Canyon, a fair distance, but she’d taken the back of his bike and he’d not let anyone else sit there since.
He smiled at that. It mattered. Once there was someone in your life, no one else rode behind you. No one. I s’pose that don’ hol’ true no more, though. If she’s not my girl, then ain’t no reason not to. But it didn’t feel right. It felt like a betrayal, not to Tracy, maybe, though it would be nice to imagine that she still held on to that much. But it would be a betrayal to him, to Hoodoo. No one but Tracy could take that spot. Or fit so nice under an arm.
Momma Leonna would have already beat him firmly about the ears. “Stop your damn lamentin’!” She’d already chastised him when he’d broken up with Tracy. “You done did what you did and we all has to live with stupid mistakes. Now it’s your turn!”
She went on for several minutes calling into question Hoodoo’s parentage (odd considering his mother was Momma’s daughter – and person or persons unknown), his genetic structure and the easy- to-count synapses in his brain. She then turned to God and spent several minutes explaining to the Almighty how He’d erred by short-changing the boy, trading brains for brute.
“You go back there and you get her!” she’d hit him again with her cane.
“I can’t!” he’d protested, ducking another blow. For an old, arthritic woman no higher than five-feet-two, she could hit hard.
“Then pull up your panties and get on with your life!” And that was that. To her, it was solved.
Fix your mistake or live with it. Everything seemed so simple to her. Maybe things got simpler when you got old like that. But Hoodoo knew things were more complicated than that. That there wasn’t always an easy solution. And when he’d tried to bring that up, she wouldn’t hear it.
“Now, you tell me ‘bout that friend o’ yours.” Momma Leonna had smiled. She liked Hitman. He sent the rich tourists her way, he gave her little presents now and again. The last little present hung from her ears, glimmering sapphire earrings like drops of blue sky under hair the color of rusted iron. He’d sent them last Christmas. Michael had been charmed by her the first time they’d met and he remembered her fondly. For Momma’s part, she had the earrings immediately appraised, just so she would know how fondly she should be thinking of him.
These particular earrings carried a lot of fondness.
For Hoodoo, not so much. Especially after she’d dragged the story out of him piecemeal. “Well, I… I owe him a little money….”
Momma stepped back and looked up at her boy. “How you be owin’ him? He’s got more money than God! How much you owe him?”