“You weren’t what?”
“I wasn’t going to call you a bitch.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
I chuckled. “I’ve already been educated on the matter. If I use the word, it’ll only be affectionately. I was going to call you a smart mouth little shit.”
Her eyes fell to the bed. In an instant, she looked up. “I like that.”
“I’ll forewarn you,” I said. “I do dumb shit sometimes. But. I’m not a dumb person.”
“I’ve never thought that about you.”
“Okay.”
She flopped onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling. “I do dumb stuff, too.”
“It’s human nature.”
“I guess so.”
“Pretty impressive today,” I said.
She looked at me. “What was?”
“You were.”
Her brow wrinkled, and she sat up. “How’s that? I just sat there.”
The difference between barhopping and taking a trip on the open road is immeasurable. Many men think they want to be part of an MC, then quickly decide after they make the first road trip that they weren’t cut out to be a real biker.
Being a biker wasn’t for everyone, and it damned sure wasn’t easy. The ability to last on the open road for an entire day – through all kinds of weather – is what separated the men from the boys.
Smudge made a 13-hour trip that covered 850 miles without a single complaint. In my book, she was Ol’ Lady material for that reason alone.
I stood, and then turned to face her. “That’s my point.”
“I impressed you by sitting on the back of the bike?”
“Yep.”
“I would have guessed you for being a little tougher to impress,” she said. “I’m disappointed.”
“I’m not easily impressed, I can assure you of that. I don’t pay compliments where they’re not due, either. Most women would have thrown in the towel after an hour or two. Hell, a couple of times, you didn’t even get off to piss. Pretty impressive in my book.”
“Thank you.”
I gave a nod. “I’m going to shower.”
“Maybe most women like the thought of riding. Or, the thought of being a biker’s Ol’ Lady. I love being on the back of your bike. It’s hard to explain. It just…” She gazed aimlessly around the room, and then she looked at me. “It’s difficult to explain. Being there is like. It’s soul cleansing.”
She hit the nail on the head. It was soul cleansing.
I looked her over. If I simply set the age difference between us aside, she was perfect. I decided when the time was right that I was going to develop the courage to ask her on a proper date.
“My soul’s cleaner than a motherfucker, but my body’s covered with bugs and dirt. I’m going to take a shower.”
She patted the bed with her hand. “You know where I’ll be.”
I went to the bathroom, closed the door, and got undressed. After I shaved, I stood in front of the mirror, gazing blankly at my reflection.
The club described me as a lone wolf.
A recluse.
They were right. But, being a loner had its benefits.
Leaving on a whim.
Having no one or nothing to hold me back.
It also left me feeling empty at times.
Waiting had never been one of my strengths. It was time for me to tell Smudge how I felt, and see if she’d consider taking our friendship one step further. I wiped off my face and opened the bathroom door.
“So, I was thinking…”
Flat on her back with her hands behind her head, she gazed up at the ceiling.
I took a step toward her, and then paused. “You and I have a lot in common. We both like tinkering with bikes. We enjoy the freedom of being on the road. Hell, we could take road trips on the weekends and have one hell of a lot of fun. So, anyway. There’s this age thing between us. But. The more I think about it, nine years isn’t that much. Not really.”
I inhaled a lung full of courage and stepped to the end of the bed.
My heart sank at the sound of her light snoring. After admiring her for a moment, my mouth curled into a smile.
She was a beautiful woman.
And, there was always tomorrow.
Chapter One Hundred Eighty-One
Joey
After we packed everything into the saddlebags and secured them, Percy pointed across the street. “Diner over there. Let’s eat, and then we can hit the road.”
The sun was peeking over the tips of the mountains in the distance. I shifted my eyes from the sunrise to him. “Sounds good.”
“You okay?”
I drew a deep breath of the cool air, and gave a nod. “Just enjoying the scenery.”
“Makes two of us.”
He hadn’t so much as glanced eastward, and what was behind me was nothing more than a parking lot filled with pickup trucks and an occasional car. My scenery was awesome. His scenery sucked.
He grinned. “You ready?”
“Yep.”
“If we eat and hit the road, should be there by late afternoon. It’s less than 600 miles.”
I looked forward to our time on the road, but the thought of meeting my cousin made me nervous.
“Sounds good.”
We rode across the street and parked the bike where we could see it through the windows.
Percy opened the door. “After you.”
I stepped inside and looked around. The diner was a step back in time, for sure. Two elderly women wearing aprons appeared to be the only waitresses. One, coffee pot in hand, turned toward us.
“Any seat you like,” she said. “Want coffee?”
“Two, please,” he responded.
We chose a booth opposite where the bike was parked and sat down. A small chrome box at the end of the booth with a series of buttons on the bottom was mounted at the end of the booth, by the window.
The letters A through K and the numbers 1 through 10 were on the face of the buttons.
I leaned toward the box. “What is this?”
“Juke box,” he said.
“It plays music?”
“It’s old school as fuck. If it still works, that’s what it does.”
I flipped through the pages of songs. After glancing at three pages, one caught my complete attention.
“Bob Seger,” I gasped. “Roll Me Away.”
“Good tune,” he said.
My eyes shot to him. “It was one of my mom’s favorites.”
The waitress pointed toward the condiment rack and then sat two cups of coffee down. “Menus are right there.”
“Does this work?” I asked.
“Sure does. Two for a quarter. No cheaper music in the entire valley.”
Percy tossed two quarters onto the table. “Pick your four favorites.”
“I’ll be right back to take your order,” the waitress said.
“I know what I want,” Percy said.
“Me too.”
The waitress looked at me and cocked her eyebrow playfully.
“Three eggs over medium, hash browns, bacon, and wheat toast.”
She grinned and looked at Percy.
“Same.”
She scribbled on her pad. “Easy enough.”
As she walked away, Percy looked at me. “Always eat your eggs over medium?”
“I’ll eat them scrambled if I cook them, but not in a restaurant. They never make them right.”
He chuckled.
“What?’
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
I reached for the quarters, and then looked the music choices over. After two passes through the entire selection, I chose four songs.
As Bob Seger’s Roll Me Away began, I closed my eyes. Percy must have enjoyed the song as much as me, because he didn’t speak the entire time.
When the song ended, I opened my eyes.
“What other three did you pick?”
“The W
eight by The Band, Janis Joplin’s Me and Bobby McGee, and I Wish It Would Rain, by the Temptations.”
“Damn. Where’d you get your taste in music?”
“You don’t like them?”
“Shit,” he said with a light laugh. “Sounds like what I would have picked.”
“My dad was ten years older than my mom,” I explained. “He was born in 1965, so he’d be 52 now. Mom always said he influenced her musical taste. I grew up listening to these songs. It’s better than the crap they make today.”
The Weight, by The Band started to play.
From the opening word, I began to sing along quietly. After a few seconds, Percy joined in. We both grinned, singing word for word as we gazed at each other.
The waitress slid the plates in front of us. It didn’t stop us from singing.
Percy gave her a nod.
“Cutest couple I’ve seen in a long time.” She smiled. “Enjoy.”
When the song ended, we reached for our plates. As the other two played, we ate our breakfast.
“You’re an old soul.” He pushed his plate to the side and reached for his coffee. “I like that about you.”
I folded my toast in two and poked it in my mouth. “I pretty much like everything about you. So far, anyway.”
He shook his head. “Got a question for you.”
I took a drink of coffee. “Okay.”
“When we get back from this trip, would you consider going out?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. I wrinkled my nose and stared back at him. “What do you mean?”
“Go out,” he said.
“Huh?”
“You’re making this tougher than it ought to be.” He let out a sigh. “I want to take you on a date. I’m asking you if you’d consider going out with me. On a date.”
Holy cow.
My throat went dry.
I had no idea what a woman felt when a man asked her to marry him. At least not until that moment. My guess was that what I felt was identical. It had to be.
I picked my jaw up from the floor and calmly took a sip of my tepid coffee. “A date? Like, you and me going out on a date? A real date?”
He nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”
All my years of desire had somehow come to fruition. I was shaking from the excitement of it all, but clenched the coffee cup tightly in my hands to mask it.
I met his wondrous gaze, offered him a smile, and gave the only answer I could.
“I’d love to.”
Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Two
P-Nut
Axton Bishop looked like an old-school biker from yesteryear. His face was deeply tanned from years of riding, his brown hair was littered with gray, and his hands were covered in more scars than most other bikers I knew.
A half hour south of Wichita, in a town I’d never heard of, the three of us were seated at an office in the back of his clubhouse. He took a moment to digest the death of a mother he’d never really known, and then looked up.
He folded his massive arms over his chest and met Smudge’s gaze. “Died, huh? I’ll be damned. Like I said a minute ago, I never really knew her. She left when I was a kid. Ol’ Man was a violent prick, so I can’t say as I blame her.”
“I’m sorry,” Smudge said.
“Don’t be,” he said. “It’s nobody’s fault. Part of the journey. Happens to the best of us.”
“Your pop rode with the red and white?” I asked.
“He did. Like I said, he was a violent prick,” he said dryly. “They did the world a favor when they locked his ass up.”
“Did he ever mention his brother-in-law?” I asked. “His wife’s sisters husband? Your uncle?”
“Not that I recall, no. But we didn’t talk much past when I was about eighteen. Not much up to that time, either.”
“Ever heard of Billy The Snake Schreiber?” Smudge asked.
Axton shot her a glare. “Do I look like a car salesman?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“A landscape architect?”
“No.”
“Resemble a 1%er at all?” he asked flatly. “Maybe a little?”
She chuckled. “Maybe a little.”
“Any man who wears a patch knows of The Snake,” he said. “Man gave his life for his club in more ways than one. We could all learn a little something from how he lived his life. Why do you ask?”
Smudge pushed herself away from the table and straightened her posture. “He was my father.”
His eyes thinned. After a moment’s thought, his lips parted slightly. He pushed himself away from the table, stood, and shot her a look.
“You’re Billy Schreiber’s daughter?”
She nodded. “Sure am.”
“That’d make him my uncle.”
“That’s why we’re here,” she said. “I was hoping you could tell us more about him. Well, that, and I wanted to meet you.”
He looked at me and then at her. He motioned for her to stand. “Stand up.”
She stood.
He looked her over. “As far as I know, you’re my only relative.”
“My dad was an only child, and my mother only had the one sister. If you don’t have any siblings,” Smudge said with a grin. “You’re my only relative, too.”
“I’ll be fucking damned.” He extended his hand.
She looked at his open hand as if he was trying to hand her a snake. She clenched her fist and straightened her arm.
He pressed his fist into hers, grinned, and then looked at me. “And you’re a Filthy Fucker?”
“Done a dime with ‘em so far.”
“Dime in that state’s like a lifetime anywhere else. It’s like the wild west out there, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Can be.”
He looked at Smudge. “Did you know my mother?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
“You didn’t know my mother, and I didn’t know your father. It’s a damned shame you came all this way.”
“At least we got to meet each other,” she said.
I know it wasn’t what she wanted, but it was really all he had to offer. He seemed to be a man of few words, and I had my doubts we’d spend the day in the clubhouse chewing the fat about bikes, booze, and bitches.
We did stay for another hour or so, and then said our goodbyes.
As we saddled up, Axton stood off to the side and looked my bike over. “Good lookin’ scoot.”
“Appreciate it.”
Smudge pulled on her helmet, and then turned toward Axton. “Do you eat Vietnamese noodle soup?”
He grinned. “I’ve been known to.”
“Any good places in Wichita?”
“There’s a couple, yeah.”
“Any of them been around for twenty years or so?”
“One,” he said. “My Tho. Fellas that run it ride. Good people, good noodles, and a good atmosphere. Family owned and operated. Biker friendly, too.”
“Thanks,” she said.
She looked at me. “Noodles?”
The thought of eating at a place her father had ridden 1,500 miles to eat at was intriguing.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I responded.
The small building on a corner lot with a dirt parking lot wasn’t at all what I expected. After parking the bike, we walked inside.
The inside of the restaurant was spotless. We chose an empty seat, and were greeted promptly by a man in his forties.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Water and coffee, times two,” I said.
He gave a nod and then motioned toward the center of the table. “Menus are right there. I’ll be back with your drinks.”
As we looked over the menus, he returned.
“How long has this place been here?” Smudge asked.
“Twenty-five years,” he said.
“How long have you worked here?” she asked.
He smiled. “Twenty-five years.”
“Do you ride?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. Mine’s parked out back, right beside my brother’s.”
“You ever heard of Billy The Snake Schreiber?” she asked.
He gave a sharp nod. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Her eyes went wide. “Has he ever been in here?”
“Yes, ma’am. He came in several times. It’s been a long time ago, though. He’s dead, you know.”
She nodded. “Do you remember where he sat?”
He gave a sharp nod, and then pointed to a large round table in the far rear of the restaurant. “Same place every time.”
“Mind if we move to that table?” she asked.
“No, Ma’am. Not at all.”
We moved to the other table and sat down.
The waiter brought our drinks. “Are you ready to order?”
“Do you know what Billy ate when he came?”
“Yes, Ma’am. The number twelve,” he said. “Every time.”
Her eyebrows raised slightly. “You’ve got a good memory.”
“Hard to forget a man like that, Ma’am. It’s been a long time, but it isn’t very often someone rides 1,500 miles to eat in your restaurant. My brother and I were gang-bangers back then. We actually started riding because of him. He was an easy man to admire.”
She grinned. “I’ll have the number twelve.”
“Bring us two of ‘em,” I said.
“It’ll just be a few minutes.”
Smudge relaxed against the back of her seat and looked around the restaurant. “I like this place.”
“I do, too. And, the fella waiting on us is nice.”
“It’s cool thinking that my dad sat here. That he ate the same food.”
“I like the thought of it.”
“I’m glad we made this trip,” she said. “I wanted answers. It’s weird, but the only answers I really got were when we were on the road.”
“You know you’re a true biker when you get far more satisfaction out of the trip than you do the destination.”
“I guess I’m a true biker, then.”
It was one more thing we had in common.
Not that I needed another reason to invite her into my life.
Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Three
Joey
We’d been home from the trip for three days. As much as I enjoyed our time on the road, my unanswered questions left me feeling empty. I decided there were things about my father I would simply never find out. Accepting that decision as life’s reality, however, didn’t come easily.
HOT as F*CK Page 89