HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  “Damned near graduation day, huh?” I asked as I slid my empty water glass to the center of the table.

  “Yep,” Avery responded.

  She sure didn’t seem to be excited about the fact she was graduating from college. Hell, I barely made it through high school. As much school as I missed, it was a miracle I even graduated. I learned more in my post-graduation reading than I ever did in school. I wouldn’t trade who I had become for anything, but it sure would have been nice to get a degree in mechanical engineering. Applying the education of a technical degree to building bikes would be far more efficient than reading books every night.

  “Can I get you some more water?” the waitress asked.

  “No thank you,” I said.

  She turned and smiled at Avery. “You ma’am?”

  “No thank you,” Avery responded.

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  I shook my head and grinned. “The food was great. We’re stuffed.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave this here. No hurry, whenever you’re ready,” she said as she placed the bill on the table.

  I looked at the bill. $17.22. I reached for my wallet and placed thirty dollars on the table. I’ve always believed if I couldn’t leave a ten-dollar tip for a meal, regardless of the cost, I shouldn’t be eating in public.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  She stood from her chair and slid her glasses onto her nose. Avery had changed from talking a hundred miles an hour about any and everything to being a woman of a few words. In a conversation about a particular subject she’d talk for as long as I was interested in doing so. Through the course of a normal day, she now spoke very little unless I encouraged her to do so. Seeing the change in her caused me to believe she was willing to modify her behavior to attempt to please me.

  “You don’t talk much anymore.” I chuckled as I stood.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t have to.”

  I opened the door and waited for her to walk through. As I stepped to the sidewalk and turned toward my bike, a man was standing beside it taking pictures. I reached down and pulled the rubber band away from my wrist.

  “What are you doing?” I growled.

  Snap!

  He looked up, grinned, and took another picture. “Just taking a few pics of this bike.”

  “Is it yours?” I shrugged as I stopped in front of the bike.

  He shook his head and stood. “Nope. Probably yours, huh?”

  Avery stood quietly by my side with her hands in her pockets. It was probably a good thing she was with me, as I had found myself fractionally more reserved in her company. I rested my hands on my belt and stared as he continued to try and take the perfect photo of my bike.

  “Probably.”

  Dressed in nice jeans, a button down shirt, and dress shoes, he looked like a thirty-something year old business man. I would have expected him to have had enough common sense to at least, in my presence, ask permission to continue.

  “You have any kids?” I asked.

  He looked up and smiled. “Yeah, two.”

  “What’s your address?” I asked.

  He shoved his cell phone into his front pocket and narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

  I crossed my arms and began flexing my pectoral muscles, causing my chest to flare. “Your address? I need your address.”

  “Uhhm, I don’t think so, why?”

  “I want to come over sometime when you’re gone and take some pictures of your fucking kids, you idiot.”

  “Uhhm. Listen, I was just…” he began.

  “You were just fucking with something that wasn’t yours is what you were doing. I don’t have a family, that bike is all I’ve got. It’s like my kid. It sure as fuck isn’t on a pedestal in a museum, is it? It’s not on display out here for you to take fucking pictures of, that’s for God damned sure.” I shook my head lightly and inhaled a deep breath.

  I looked up and down the block and then shifted my gaze to him. “You know, this is the only restaurant around. There isn’t another place of business for two fucking blocks. It was pretty fucking obvious where we were. It would have been a lot different if you’d have stuck your head in the restaurant and said, hey, I’m building a Heritage Softail and I’d like to use yours as a template. Hell, I’d have agreed and probably been fucking flattered.”

  “I uhhm. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

  “Get out of here. I’m done talking to you,” I grunted as I raised my hand and waved toward the end of the block.

  As he walked away, I glanced at Avery. “I fucking hate people.”

  She grinned and lowered her chin slightly.

  “So, what? Now I talk like a motherfucker, and you smile and nod?”

  She grinned and tossed her leg over the rear fender. “Yep.”

  I stood beside the motorcycle and admired her. As much as I hated to admit it, she looked damned good sitting on the bike. Having Avery accompany me for the last month allowed me to become fractionally more civil. I was still myself, but a little less rough around the edges.

  “Well, it’s a good thing you were here. Balance. You give me fucking balance,” I said as I stepped over the seat.

  “Progress,” she said.

  I raised my right hand to the apes and rested my hand on the grip. Across the street a new Lexus was parked; probably the amateur photographer’s car. I grinned, twisted the throttle twice, flipped the ignition, and hit the start button. As the engine warmed up to temperature, I released the throttle, reached over the ape hangers and snapped my rubber band against my left wrist.

  Snap!

  I gazed at the new Lexus.

  Snap!

  “Ready?” I asked as I moved my right hand to the throttle.

  “Always,” she responded.

  As we slowly rode past the Lexus, I grinned.

  Progress.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  AVERY

  Setting and achieving goals has driven me to succeed at almost everything I intended to accomplish. Graduating from college was my most difficult goal to date; therefore, I looked at it as a huge accomplishment. Considering my mother’s disappointment in my choices in the last few years, it came as no surprise that I didn’t hear from my family prior to graduation. As stubborn as I am, I wasn’t about to call her and remind her, and as disappointed as she was, she certainly wasn’t going to naturally offer. Either way, graduating from college and having no one in attendance made me, once again, feel invisible.

  “Avery Taylor.” The voice crackled over the loudspeakers.

  Already in position on the right side of the stage, I stepped up the three stairs and onto the platform. As I walked across the stage, it was almost as if I was in a trance. Deaf and blind to what surrounded me, with my left hand I accepted the diploma and shook his hand with my right. I shuffled to the next handshake, and the next. Quiet and feeling tiny, I walked back to my seat with my shoulders slumped. As I found my chair, I opened the diploma.

  A fake. A phony. Not having the actual certificate made me feel even more uneasy. They had advised us we would receive the actual document in the mail. Knowing it didn’t make me feel any better. I slid forward in my seat, knowing this was almost over. I wanted to see Axton, ride on his bike, and let the wind against my face allow me to feel as if none of this really mattered. Instead, I was scheduled to meet Sloan’s parents for dinner. I hadn’t even reminded Axton I was graduating. I knew he would have bigger and better things to do than come to some bullshit like a college graduation.

  At least my name starts with a “T”. This is almost over.

  “I now present you with the Southwestern College graduating class of 2014!”

  As I watched everyone stand and scream, I turned and walked along the row of seats toward the aisle. Students stood hugging their friends, family, parents, brothers and sisters. It was a joyous occasion for all. I’ve never been a person to wallow in self-pity or feel sorry for myself, but I felt alone. My throat
felt dry and my eyes felt wet. As I stumbled toward the parking lot still in a fog, I heard my name being called.

  “Avery! God damn, girl. Are you fucking deaf?”

  I glanced up and toward the voice. A large black mob of Sinner cuts stood before me.

  Holy shit!

  Axton, Otis, Hollywood, Toad, Pete, Stacey, Mike, Fancy, and several other members I didn’t recognize were all standing shoulder to shoulder with their arms crossed. Axton stood in the center with his arms outstretched and open wide. Immediately, I felt as if nothing else mattered. I wanted to rush toward him and have him pick me up and swing me in the air. Instead, I walked slowly as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

  “I’m proud of you,” Axton said as he wrapped his arms around me.

  As he squeezed me and lifted my feet from the ground, I closed my eyes.

  You. Just. Made. My. Day.

  Continued ‘good jobs’, ‘congratulations’, and ‘fuck yeah, you did it, girl’s’ came from the crowd as Axton held me in his arms. When he finally lowered me to the ground, Otis reached into his cut and removed a wrapped gift. After handing it to Axton, Axton, in turn, handed it to me.

  “What…”

  “It’s from the fellas, it ain’t from me. Well, it’s from all of us. Open it,” he said with a nod.

  I unwrapped the gift carefully and clutched the wrapping paper in my hand. As I opened the small black box, I wanted the moment to last forever. The excitement, the men, the hug, the attention, the fact that there were hundreds of people graduating, and the only men to ride motorcycles to the ceremony and wear their cuts to graduation were all waiting for me. I tilted the top back and peered inside.

  A wide silver bracelet, beveled on each side with ornate engraving on the face was positioned in the center of the box on a velvet pedestal. I glanced toward Axton.

  Don’t fucking cry. Just don’t.

  I nodded my head once and reached inside the box.

  “Turn it over,” he whispered. “Look inside.”

  I picked the bracelet up and looked inside. Engraved in elegant script, the words were clear.

  The Devil Looks After His Own.

  I naturally attempted to inhale a breath, but it shuddered. I was about to lose my composure and start sobbing. With shaking hands, I removed the bracelet, pressed it over my left wrist, and looked at it down in admiration.

  “You like it?” Otis asked.

  I looked up and nodded my head.

  “The bracelet is from the Sinners. The engraving on the inside? It’s from Otis and me.” Axton winked.

  The Devil Looks After His Own.

  “Where’s Sloan?” Axton asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Supposed to meet her in the parking lot. Her parents are here and stuff. We were all going to go to dinner or something, I don’t know.”

  “I guess you getting on the back of that sled of mine is out of the question?”

  I pulled my gown over my shoulders and lifted it over my head. After carefully folding the fake diploma, cap, and gift box into the gown, I walked to the trash can a few feet away and tossed them inside.

  “Glasses?” he asked.

  I unzipped my clutch and pulled out my glasses. “Always.”

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I pushed my hands into the rear pockets of my shorts and looked down at my sneakers. What started out as an awful day had quickly turned into the best day of my life. I glanced up and smiled.

  “Always,” said.

  Axton turned toward Toad and nodded his head.

  “On it, boss,” Toad responded.

  Secretive fuckers.

  As the rest of us methodically walked to the parking lot, Toad stayed behind. Something about being in the presence of all of the men made me feel powerful. I watched as girls I’d went to school with for four years craned their necks and whipped their heads to the side to catch a glimpse of us as we walked through the parking lot.

  That’s right bitches.

  The Devil Looks After His Own. Yep, the fellas came to congratulate me and take me for a ride.

  “We were thinking of riding out to Stearman Field Airport in Benton and meeting up with another club. About an hour ride there, stay an hour or two, and an hour back. It’ll kill the rest of the day, you alright with that?” Axton asked over his shoulder.

  I may not officially have been Axton’s Ol’ Lady, and we may not be fucking, but I knew him having me along for the ride with twelve other members, meeting another club, and being the only bitch in attendance didn’t go without notice from all of the other men. He might not have been ready to admit it, but he was taking me along because he wanted to, not out a feeling of obligation.

  I grinned and nodded my head.

  “Now, listen up. When we ride with these fellas, it ain’t like when we ride alone. These guys are gonna ride hard, so be ready,” he said.

  I started to say something smart-assed, and bit my lip instead.

  Awwe, what the hell.

  “The harder the better. That’s what I’ve always said,” I said.

  As Axton glared at me and continued to walk his mechanical walk of don’t fuck with me swagger, he reached toward his left wrist. I didn’t need to see what he was doing, I knew. I waited to hear the sound.

  Snap!

  I grinned and threw my leg over the back of his fender.

  Mission accomplished.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  AXTON

  “So this motherfucker looks up at the television and says, I’m gonna go take a shower, and when I get back, it better be on Family Feud.”

  “You see, in the joint, it’s just like it is in the club, it’s all about respect. They vote on what to watch, and whatever wins the vote is what they watch. Everything’s put on a list. You know a week in advance what you’re gonna watch. Family Feud is on the list, but big boy is watching Jerry fuckin’ Springer. And in the joint it don’t matter how big a motherfucker is or how small he is. Now the fella watching the T.V. was about three fucking hundred and six foot six; he was bigger’n Otis. And the fella headed to the shower was maybe five foot five and a buck twenty.”

  “So big boy keeps watching Jerry Springer or whatever it was. I sat back at my table and watched. I knew what time it was. Little man comes out of the shower and walks over between us. He looked up at the T.V. and shook his head. When he walked back to his cell, I stood up and got my back to the wall. Hell, you never know in the joint when one fight will pop off a riot. So, I’m watchin’ over to little man’s cell, and here he comes. Got a tube sock danglin’ from his fist.”

  “A fucking sock?” Hollywood shrugged.

  Corndog nodded his head. “Yep. Lock in a sock. You take the padlock off your locker and put it in a fuckin’ tube sock. Now, that lock ain’t much, but in the bottom of a sock when you’re swinging it, that’ll knock the biggest motherfucker to his knees.”

  “Let the man finish his story, you rude prick,” Otis said as he tilted his beer toward Hollywood.

  “So little man walks up behind the big fella in a wide sweep, and swings the fucking sock. Funniest fuckin’ thing I ever seen. You see, a two-foot sock stretches to about three feet when it’s got a three-pound lock in the bottom of it and you’re swinging that fucker about sixty miles an hour. So the sock stretches, and just wraps around big boy’s head coming back and hittin’ little man’s wrist.”

  Corndog raised his bottle of beer to his mouth. After a long drink, he lowered the bottle to his waist, and rested his thumb on his belt. “Now big fella gets up and his eyes are as wide as a motherfucker. That little prick recovers from the first swing, leans back and…”

  “WHACK! The fucking lock hits this motherfucker on the temple and down this bastard goes like a sack of shit. And little man steps on his chest with one foot and just pummels this prick into a bloody pile of toothless shit. He finally gets satisfied that his work is done, and he looks over to me and nods his head. I nod back. He walks over to his c
ell, washes the lock, flushes the sock down the shitter, and walks back out.”

  Corndog paused and took another drink of beer.

  “So guess what the little fucker does now?” he asked.

  I shrugged, expecting I already knew the answer.

  “Drags that big fucker over about ten feet, sits down, and switches the television to Family Feud. Like nothin’ happened. When the Goon Squad shows up, he says he didn’t even notice the fucker layin’ there. Here’s the other thing. Nobody saw shit. That’s how it works in there. No fucking snitches. Snitches get stitches for being punk ass bitches.”

  “Well, I’m just glad you’re out,” I said as I slapped him on the back.

  “Feels like I never left, Slice. Shit, time in that bitch goes slow as fuck, but once you’re out, it’s all good. Little ol’ five-year bit? Shit I’ll do the next five standing on my head,” he chuckled.

  “Well, this little barbeque is for you, brother,” I said.

  “Appreciate it, brother. I’m gonna wander around. Hell there’s a hundred fuckers here I ain’t seen in a bit,” he said with a grin.

  “Stay out of trouble, Dog,” I said.

  As long as I had waited for him to be released, and as much as I anticipated his arrival at the barbeque, it seemed odd having him back. Five years is a long time. In his eyes nothing changed. It was as if he stepped out of a meeting and stepped right back in. In my eyes, he’d been gone for five years. A lot happened in the time he was gone. New members, members retiring, some being locked up, and others died. Be as it may, Corndog was out of prison, and I was glad to have him back.

  As I stood amongst the few men who had surrounded Corndog to listen to his story, I glanced around, looking for Avery. I hadn’t seen her since she walked away with Sloan fifteen minutes prior. Not necessarily worried, but a little uncomfortable about her wandering around a hundred bikers without a Property Of patch, I had my doubts even she would walk around for long without someone doing or saying something.