by Primo, Jaz
The old-fashioned porch was occupied by a throng of rough-looking bikers who were engaged in either drinking, smoking, swapping tales, or some combination thereof. Also on the porch, to one side of the front entryway, sat the motorcycle that had caught Paige’s keen vision.
That’s probably not the bike we’re looking for, but it bears checking into.
You’re freakin’ kidding me, Caleb disdainfully thought as Paige slowed their approach through the parking lot.
Memories of a previous bar visit in downtown Atlanta flooded through his mind like a bad flashback. A former California punk rock singer named Gil Yeager, whom Paige had dated for a brief time, had steered them into a rough bar setting that had ended in an impromptu parking lot fight. He painfully recalled that he and Gil had barely managed to be on the winning side.
As they came to a halt, he maintained a firm embrace of Paige’s waist as she straddled the cycle. She had no sooner removed her helmet when she flashed him a devilish look over her shoulder.
“Lovin’ the hug, kiddo, but now you just look like you’re groping me,” she teased with a flash of her bright blue eyes.
She accepted his anxiety over their arrival, but it wasn’t going to deter her from checking out a possible lead while also exposing him to a prospectively instructive setting.
He absently released his arms from around her and removed his helmet. His blue eyes warily scouted the crowd hanging around the front of the dimly lit building.
“I don’t like this,” he darkly muttered.
Paige hung her helmet over one handlebar and cast a reassuring face at him. “Stop being such a worrywart. I’ve been in dozens of places like this. Most of these guys are just weekend roughnecks trying to live out Easy Rider.”
“You mean the magazine?” he demanded.
Another inspection of the nearest female patrons confirmed that none of them looked like any of the cover models he had ever seen in an issue of Easy Rider.
She immediately countered with a withering expression, “No, porn-king. I mean the world’s most famous biker film and anti-establishment story of the twentieth century.”
“Sorry. Never saw it,” he replied with a shrug.
“Just never mind,” she chastised with annoyance as she snatched his helmet from him and draped it over the other handlebar.
“We could go home and rent it online now, if you’d like,” he suggested.
She tightly pursed her lips, rolled her eyes, and began towing him by the arm towards the building. “Some other time. Come on, Captain Adventure.”
He quickly fell into step beside her, and she draped one arm around his waist as he stretched his arm across her petite shoulders. He glanced sidelong at her as they approached the wooden steps leading up to the smoky porch and noted a self-satisfied half-leer on her face that gave her an edgy appearance.
Well, at least I have a vampire with me, he thought as they crossed the threshold into the joint.
Loud rock-n-roll roared above the din of laughing, cursing, and carousing in the bar. The scents of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and worn leather permeated the room. A trio of worn pool tables in the back was surrounded by men and women as bets were called out for whoever was shooting. A lengthy series of worn stools along the length of the bar were occupied, save for two, toward which Paige steered Caleb with the pull of her arm around his waist.
A number of eyes darted to up look at the two newest patrons with a mix of mild curiosity and assessment, much like predators sizing up new prey. Caleb’s eyes darted once to Paige’s to note that a subtle look of amusement had replaced her earlier scowl.
She took immediate notice to their reception, but deliberately ignored the patrons. She recognized the various expressions, having seen them on numerous occasions over the past century. But unlike Caleb, she had already determined that in a roomful of dangerous characters, she was the deadliest. It was merely that nobody else realized it yet.
How I’ve missed this, she reflected.
Her attention quickly returned to assessing the two dozen or more people in the room. She quickly noted that none appeared to be a vampire.
An older, balding man wearing a worn brown leather vest over a stained t-shirt stood on the working side of the bar. His eyes slightly narrowed as he studied the two while passing two bottles of beer to the two bikers before him. He sidestepped to his left and casually wiped the counter in front of Paige with a relatively clean towel.
“Haven’t seen you two before. Just passing through?”
Caleb started to reply, but Paige smoothly interrupted with a shrug, “Just out for a ride tonight. My old man and I got thirsty.”
The bartender snickered. “I bet. Okay then. What’ll you have?”
“Got any Sam Adams?” Caleb inquired.
“Nope,” the bartended answered in a clipped tone.
“Two Buds,” Paige interjected as her eyes met the bartender’s.
One of the man’s eyebrows arched slightly. “Now, that we got,” he confirmed and turned to reach into a closed metal cooler behind him.
He neatly popped the metal caps off each bottle and swiveled around to place them on the bar with a thump.
Paige neatly produced a couple of crumpled bills and smacked them on the bar before her. “That’s the first two rounds. Next one’s are yours, lover,” she quipped to Caleb.
The bartender scooped up the bills and made his way to the opposite end of the bar to attend to three bikers clustered together. Paige took a swig from the bottle and casually leaned over to Caleb.
“Next time, pay attention to the lit beer signs and order what you see,” she pointedly recommended. “Don’t go out of your way to look like an amateur.”
He filed the tip away for future reference. “Just what are we doing here, anyway?”
She took another swig of her beer and stared at him. Poor kid, she thought, way too sheltered in his lifetime.
“Looks like we’re just getting something to drink,” she snapped in a perky voice. “And maybe teaching my boy a little bit about bars. Might come in handy someday.”
“I received enough experience in bars with Gil, thanks,” he recalled with a scowl.
Paige’s late boyfriend had a penchant for trouble, and Caleb was thankful that Katrina’s combat training had snapped into his head at just the right time, or he would probably still be recovering from injuries.
Her expression darkened as she recalled how beaten up Caleb had gotten over that event, mostly due to Gil’s big mouth. The memory sent a pang of angst through her, leaving little room for regret at having killed Gil not long after that.
“Yeah, well, this time I’m here to make sure things don’t go south. Just watch and take it all in, like a tourist,” she recommended with a gleam in her eyes.
“All right,” he replied with a shrug. He took a long draw from his beer bottle and discreetly observed the other bar patrons.
“Don’t linger on anyone, or make too much direct eye contact,” she mentored. “You’re at the zoo looking at the animals and watching how they behave. It’s a game. Just mark the ones you think look dangerous, and I’ll tell you if you’re right or not.”
She caught the bartender’s attention again and waved him over. The man frowned slightly as he leaned against the bar to stare at her.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Nice bike out on the front porch,” she casually began. “Had my eye on one like that in town. Know whose it is?”
The man warily eyed her. “Yeah, mine now. Just bought it off one of the customers a couple of nights ago. Some wannabe biker chick, I guess. Anyway, she didn’t seem like she’d been in the cycle scene long for some reason. Said she was tired of it and wanted to get it off her hands. The price was so right, I didn’t think twice.”
Paige sneered. “Yeah, sounds like a gal I once knew. Becky Something, I think.”
The bartender cleared away a couple of nearby empty beer bottles and shook his head. “Well, this
one was Lucy Jones. At least that’s what the title said. Cute gal...pretty red hair.”
“Well, nice ride, man,” Paige complimented and took a swig of her beer. “Live it up.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he said with a chuckle and wandered down to the opposite end of the bar.
She turned to lean back against the bar on her elbows and looked bored as her eyes darted across the crowd. Lucy Jones. I’ll bet that’s an assumed name, she fumed. Probably was our stalker, though. I’ll ask Katrina or Alton to do a search just in case.
“The lady I saw had auburn hair,” Caleb recalled.
“Yeah. It was her, I’m sure,” Paige said. “I’m willing to bet she stole the bike, forged the title, and sold it for some quick cash. At least, that’s what I’d do.”
He stole glimpses into the mirror behind the bar across from him, using it to mark people quickly.
“Smart kid,” she complimented. “Bonus points for using your head with the mirror there.”
He spent the better part of the next hour nursing two beers and picking out characters he thought looked particularly dangerous. His attention fell upon a large-framed, bearded man wearing an old denim Harley Davidson jacket. He had a weathered face and a faded scar across the left side of his jaw. A medium-framed woman hung on one of his arms as he stood talking to a short biker before him. The woman wore a scowl on her face and had some streaks of gray in her long, black hair. Her hard brown eyes momentarily caught Caleb’s.
“The fellow with the woman hanging off his arm,” Caleb noted. “He’s dangerous for sure.”
Paige took two seconds to scout the individuals and turned her head to look at him over her left shoulder. “Nice pick,” she complimented. “But he’s not the dangerous one. The woman is.”
He vision flashed to the mirror to study the woman at greater length. What am I missing?
“Look at her eyes,” she suggested. “They’re hard and cold. Bet you she’s the one who gave him the scar on his jaw.”
That surprised him. “You think?”
She smirked. “I know. Seen that look before, but it’s been a while.”
“Yeah? On who?” he asked following a swig of beer.
Paige paused and took a drink. “Katrina. She used to look a lot like that. But not for a while. At least, not since she found you, anyway.”
He frowned at Paige. He wouldn’t have guessed that his mate would have maintained such a cold, hard expression. And yet he was content to learn that Katrina seemed happier as of late.
Maybe I can take a little credit for some of that, he speculated.
“Hey, Blondie,” called a gruff voice from across the room near the pool tables.
Paige panned the room with a bored expression until her eyes rested upon a burly, gray-bearded fellow wearing faded jeans and a dark t-shirt commemorating a biker rally from nearly twenty years prior. The fellow was missing two bicuspids, and his scraggly gray hair was tied back into a pony tail.
“Why doncha ditch that young old man of yours for a game of eight ball?” the grizzled fellow challenged.
A middle-aged woman with graying hair also pulled back into a tight pony tail and wearing faded jeans and a leather vest cackled. She sat on a barstool against the wall and just behind the man that had beckoned to Paige.
“Don’t worry, honey, he’s mine.” She cackled again. “The old bear’s tired of us beating his ass, so he’s looking for fresh blood.”
Her eyes momentarily widened at the reference to blood. Old blood tastes just as good as new blood, she resolved.
She looked at Caleb, who shrugged in return. “Watch and learn,” she whispered as she thumped her beer bottle onto the bar behind her.
The short vampire headed across the crowded room towards the pool tables. Caleb watched as Paige dissected the old guy through two games of pool amidst chastisements, hard looks, and scowls. She was a mix of edgy charm and playful banter as she kept the mood light despite the man’s overt exasperation. In the end, Paige pocketed no less than sixty dollars in friendly bets from the small crowd.
“Well, I’ll be gone to hell,” the man groused as he handed over his portion of the wager.
She flashed a grin in her classic sprite-like manner and bent up to kiss the old man playfully on the cheek.
“Thanks for the spending money, Grandpa,” she quipped. “Blondie needs more sewing supplies, after all.”
A roar of laughs erupted from the crowd as she turned to depart. The old woman sitting nearby cackled a laugh and teased, “That’ll teach you, ya, old bear! Now grab what’s left of your pride, and let’s head back to the house.”
The older couple said their goodbyes and made their way past Paige. The old woman leaned towards her and congratulated, “I watched you, Blondie. Thanks for not shamin’ him too bad. He’s a pretty good one, after all.”
She winked at the woman, who followed the man across the room to exit the bar. A new batch of people made their way to the vacant pool table and began setting up for a new game.
Paige turned to walk across the bar back towards Caleb, but a rough-looking man in his early thirties at the table next to her reached out to clutch her arm.
“How’s about a drink with your biggest fans?” he chortled as the four other men around the table chuckled.
She sneered down at him with contempt. “How about you get to leave without a broken nose?”
“Hey, mouthy bitch! I’m just bein’ friendly!” he spat as he jerked on her arm again.
She reached out with her free hand, grabbed his beer, and poured it over his head in a flourish. “Beer’s on you then!” she retorted while using the distraction to pull her arm free from his grip.
The other men roared with laughter, but the fellow was less than amused, and he flew up out of his chair to launch himself at Paige. Caleb saw the entire scene develop from his vantage point at the bar and leapt up from his barstool towards the fray. Two of the men at the table immediately jumped up to intercept him.
The beer-soaked biker furiously reached out for Paige, but she grinned at him evilly as she firmly latched onto his belt. The burly man leered at her until she lifted him by the belt and slammed him onto the rickety wooden table, which collapsed under his weight as his face registered shock. The two men across from him nearly fell out of their chairs to avoid being caught beneath the table.
Caleb was halfway to them when one of the two bikers approaching him swung at his head with a balled fist. He neatly dodged the swing, only to bury one shoulder into the gut of the other biker. The man staggered backwards from the force of the blow, but the first biker had already recovered and grabbed Caleb’s arms from behind to pin them. While trying to jerk free from the man’s grip, Caleb slammed one foot down against the biker’s instep. A curse was emitted in response, but the second biker was already ramming one fist into Caleb’s gut, taking his breath.
Most bar patrons watched with astonishment while Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’ “I Won’t Back Down” blasted over the wall-mounted speakers. Paige quickly noted Caleb’s plight and darted to him in a blur. She grabbed the back of the neck of the biker preparing to punch Caleb again and slammed his forehead against the bar counter.
Meanwhile, Caleb managed to pull one arm free and slammed his elbow back into the nose of the fellow behind him. The biker yelped and cursed as his hands went to his face, where blood was freely flowing from his nose.
The two men formerly sitting at the collapsed table launched themselves at Caleb and Paige. One of them solidly punched at Paige and managed to land a glancing blow against her jaw. The vampire’s head twisted to the side from the impact but quickly recovered. Her irises glowed bright blue and her jaw was clenched as she thrust the flat of one hand forwards into the man’s chest. His body flew up off the floor and sailed fifteen feet across the room to land against one of the old pool tables.
Caleb saw the other man’s fist already heading for his face and quickly dodged the blow, causing the biker’s f
ist to slam against the edge of the bar. A cry mixed with anger and pain erupted as Caleb followed with a quick punch to the side of the man’s head. But the fellow was hearty and swiftly recovered with a swing at Caleb with his uninjured hand. Fortunately, Caleb anticipated that and countered with a simultaneous punch to his throat and foot sweep, sending the man to the floor.
However, he failed to anticipate a barstool hitting him on the back. Caleb fell forward against the bar before two rough sets of hands threw him to the filthy floor. He grabbed at one man’s leg in an attempt to unbalance him, but was quickly distracted by alternating volleys of boots kicking at his ribs. He involuntarily curled up, wrapping his arms around his torso to protect himself as best as possible.
The rough character who started the affair and whom Paige had initially slammed onto the table charged at her like a bull in a roar of anger. But she used his momentum against him, deftly stepping aside and grabbing him with both hands as he lurched past her. She lifted him bodily into the air and threw him across the room to her left, where he crashed into the stereo system against the wall.
All music ceased, and Paige turned to where Caleb was being kicked in the side by the two men towering over him. She swiftly punched one fellow in the kidneys, causing him to collapse backwards to the floor with a pained groan. She grabbed the other thug by the neck and propelled him to the floor like a rag doll. A swift kick to his head rendered the man unconscious.
The room fell silent as the sound of a gun being cocked was easily registered by Paige’s keen hearing. The biker whom she had thrown onto the far pool table defiantly brandished a chrome revolver in his right hand. Her blazing eyes bored into the man, and his mouth went agape as his eyes pensively widened with shock.
He fired two rounds.
Paige instantly darted to her left to grab a pool cue from a stunned biker standing near her. The bullets harmlessly impacted the bar behind her as she flung the cue across the room at her assailant. The larger end caught the biker in the throat, and the pistol harmlessly dropped from his hand as he gagged. He grasped at his throat while collapsing to his knees.