by Bella Knight
The doors opened, and they were slammed from the first minute to the last. Ace and Bella dealt drinks, the bar backs filled up ice and drinks, and the music pounded. Valkyries, Nighthawks, Iron Knights, Gearheads, and Soldier Pack were wall to wall, with the occasional tourist wandering in, looking to party.
Ivy called in more staff to handle the overload, and she was everywhere. She filled up bar carts, brought drinks to tables, worked in the bar pits, divided up the room into smaller segments for the extra cocktail servers, and (occasionally) danced on plinths. Valkyries and Nighthawks ran up tabs, and helped to bring the beers to their own tables. The music was hot. Skuld got up and sang Joan Jett’s, I Love Rock N’ Roll and I Hate Myself for Loving You. Lyrics were screamed, whiskey was knocked back, and the servers ran themselves ragged.
When he got a minute, Ace texted his wife to say he wouldn’t make it home… at all. Things were looking like a long night, on a weeknight. She texted back to say she had a pair of Wolfpack in the house, and she would be over to see him. She strode in half an hour later, looking like a black panther. She headed to him, grabbed him, and kissed him to the point where he was afraid she would jump over the bar and do him in the pit. The audience cheered, stomped, and demanded that he dance with her.
Ivy rushed over to take his place. He banished Renee to the other plinth, gave his wife a hand up, and the entire audience sang as they danced to Rick James’ Superfreak, then Guns N’ Roses’ Sweet Child O’ Mine.
She had her hands all over him, making him groan. “I gotta work, baby,” he said.
“It’s been a long time since we had a whole night out,” she said. “I’m paying the Wolfpack ladies plenty. We have the time, let’s take it.” They then did a Tube Snake Boogie, boogie.
Ace kept her from falling off the plinth with his arms, his fingers, and a very long kiss at the end of the next song. It was Meat Loaf’s Paradise by the Dashboard Light. He hopped down, and resumed bartending. The ladies danced to Uptown Funk by Mark Ronson. Ivy sang Respect by Aretha Franklin followed by more liberating tunes that made everyone get up and dance.
Ace’s hands were a blur, opening tabs and closing them, opening beer bottles, pulling down draft beers, filling up trays of whiskey. He kept things moving, even when Ivy and Herja went up for an acapella version of Sam Smith’s Stay with Me, silencing the house. Their voices weaved in and out. The ending was beautiful. Herja went to the piano. Lily stood, and went to the drums. She beat out the beat, and they sang Black Parade by My Chemical Romance. The band rushed up to finish off the song, with a rousing chorus. Everyone was completely stunned when the song died, then the sound of the applause reverberated along the walls. Ace was one of them; he had no idea his wife knew how to play the drums, especially for such a complicated song.
Ace took his break with his wife. They ate jalapeno poppers, and cheese sticks, and fries, and drank Cokes. They couldn’t hear each other over the noisy bar, with the band resuming with Led Zepplin’s Whole Lotta Love. They didn’t care. They fed each other, held hands, and smiled at each other. Ace kissed his wife, she kissed him back even harder, and then they stole a plinth and danced to AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long and Highway to Hell.
Ace went back to work, forcing his hands to move. They kept on until two in the morning, until Ivy finally said, “I’ve got four and a half damn kids. Get the hell out!”
They all cheered, called Ubers and taxis for those who hadn’t switched to sodas for the last hour, and Ace and Bella made the last drop and counted out.
“Get the hell out of here, lovebirds!” said Ivy. “Bella, you and Damian make the deposit. Hell, I’ll go with you. I think that’s… yeah, that’s literally the most money we’ve ever made in one night.”
“I can’t walk,” said Ace. He snagged two cans of Coke, and stuffed them into his pockets.
“You can ride, can’t you?” said Lily, dragging him toward the door.
“Always,” he said, and pulled her to him. He gave her a scorching kiss.
“No sex in the doorway,” said Ivy, on her way to get more bank bags for the cash. “Do it in the parking lot like normal people.”
They laughed their way into the parking lot. Ace found that Lily had parked her Harley right next to his. She grabbed him by his neck, and tried to stick her tongue down his throat at the same time she grabbed his crotch. He squealed like a little girl. She’d clamped down on his balls —hard. She let him go, then laughed.
“No fun if you damage the merchandise,” he groaned out, and kissed her again. She let go, then put her hand down his pants. He groaned. “Lily love, there are both cameras and Iron Knights watching this place.”
“Good,” she said, “An audience.” She rotated her hips, grinding against him.
“Oh my god,” he said, trying to breathe. She kissed his neck, and ground her teeth on his earlobe, just as he liked. He finally had to whisper in her ear. “Disengage, Miss Full Steam Ahead, unless you want me to come in your hand.”
She laughed, then let him go. “Follow me,” she said. She got on her bike and revved it up. He got on his, and followed her.
They stopped by Sonic to get some takeout. They got honey-barbecue boneless chicken and tater tots —and lime cherry drinks. They ate like wolves, then cleaned themselves up. Lily grinned like a loon, and rode out into the desert.
Hank’s Cabins were small, air-conditioned, one-bedroom cabins, rented by the night or the weekend. They sported king-sized beds, flat-screen TVs, and an entire book of delivery restaurants. Lily parked in front of Number 6 and hopped off her bike. She reached into her Harley storage, and came up with a backpack and a box. She took out a key card, swiped it, and got them in. The lights came on.
It was done up in Fairy Wonderland. There were tiny white and blue lights all over the walls and ceiling. He looked up, and saw stars hanging from the ceiling. The bed was round, but there were no mirrors on the ceiling, to Ace’s relief. He shut the door behind her as she put down her backpack and box. She turned around, and slammed him into the door. He let all the thoughts fly out of his mind. She mauled him with her mouth, and teeth. He managed to drop his jacket to the floor, and to get hers off. She came up for air, and off came her top, and his. He just let the clothes drop. She had his pants off and down before he could drop her leggings.
“No fair,” he said, then lost all breath as she knelt.
He slammed his head into the door in pleasure, and hoped they didn’t fall out of the cabin, and surprise any other guests in the nearby ones. She used teeth, tongue, and fingers to make him as rock-hard as he’d ever been. She hummed ZZ Top’s Pearl Necklace to herself as he came.
She cleaned them both off with a wet wipe from her pack, skinned off her leggings, turned him around, pushed him onto the bed, and crawled on him when he sat on the edge (with a thump). She had the fingers of her left hand in his hair, and her right hand was wrapped around his cock. He didn’t think, through his haze of exhaustion and sex, that he could get it up again, but her clever fingers had him standing up in no time. He managed to stroke her breasts in between groans. She rose up and slid down on him. He held her hips, but she chose the hard, fast pounding. He wondered if she was trying to break him. She came, screaming in his ear, making him deaf. She came again, and then he came with her a third time. She got off and cleaned them both up. He managed to stand up and stagger to his jacket. He took the Cokes, opened them in the tiny bathroom sink, and stumbled back toward the bed. They drank their slightly-cool Cokes, and he laughed.
“You planned this,” he accused.
“Absolutely,” she said. “We can’t get so busy we forget to spend time together. We are the happiest and most exhausted we’ve ever been, but we have to spend time with each other.”
She realized his Coke was gone, and so was he. He snored slightly, with his back against the padded headboard. She laughed, pulled back the cover, and maneuvered him, in-between the sheets. She put her head on his chest. He held her in his arms, an
d they slept the sleep of the (almost) dead.
“I’ve spent a lifetime guarding people who should have had someone guarding me from them.”
3
RESERVATIONS
“Loss happens. It’s how you handle it that shows whether or not you are an adult, or just posing as one.”
Suni sat at her workbench, the ink slowly drying on her paintbrush. Robert came in, and sat down in front of her. “Davis is gone?” he asked.
She barely moved the lips on her tear-stained face. “He said he misses the flowers, the scent of his own sand, the feel of beads in the sunlight on our land.”
“I am not surprised,” said Robert. “My heart pines for the res.”
“Then why aren’t you there?” Suni asked.
“I am needed here. I am learning many new skills. I have young ones, including Zuni ones, to teach. I have elders who want to teach me. I go on rides and see parts of the country I have never seen. I am safe here, and recovering. I am healing.”
Suni wiped one side of her face, then another. “I am torn.”
Robert nodded. “This is not our home.”
“You are my home,” she said, with a slight smile.
“Davis is your heart,” said Robert.
She looked at him, startled. “How do you know this? What has made you so wise, little brother?”
“Getting body parts blown off you tends to focus your attention on what is important. I was dying on the res, without a purpose. Here, I have found several.”
They sat for a while, so long that Robert rose, and brought back little glass bottles of the herb (and fruit-infused) teas that Nantan and Vi experimented with. They washed and reused the bottles. He popped the top and took a deep swallow. They sat there in the room, the sun shining through the glass.
“I will finish what I am doing here, finish the orders,” said Suni.
“You’re going back,” said Robert.
“I must be with my heart,” she said. “And now that you have that fancy bike, you can visit me, many times.”
“Not in the winter, I think,” he said. “You will visit me here.”
She snorted. “What will happen to the kiln?”
“The pottery one can go with you,” he said. “I will gladly buy it for your business.”
“It is too large of a gift,” she said.
He snorted. “It’s an investment. “You will be taking care of me in my old age, so you need to earn money now, for this big event.”
She snorted. “I will do this? You presume much.” She wiped her eyes some more.
He laughed. “I do? Very well.” He stood. “Paint your pots, sister. Complete your work. I will complete my own.”
She snorted. “Motorcycles. Loud things.”
Robert laughed. “I am refinishing bikes for the Nighthawks to use in their Off-Road, Harley Training Program. I will keep one for myself, of course.” He was silent for a long moment. “I am very excited that Harley-Davidson wants to make electric motorcycles. I will eventually learn to build them, and make them for people on the res. We can build windmills, or get power from the sun, and ride anywhere we choose.”
“You would make bikes for people on the res?” Suni asked.
“They must be off-road,” he said. “So many still live on dirt or rock roads.” He nodded. “I know some people. People who could benefit from this.” He smiled to himself, then nodded. “And the artistic collectives you have told me about. Will you work to help our people sell things online?
“Chayton has helped us with a website,” said Suni. “Go away, little brother. I have work to do.” She wet her paintbrush and began again.
Robert went to his garage, put on his coveralls, and began singing ancient songs. Soon, he lost himself as he tore apart a tired, off-road bike, and made notes about which parts needed to be replaced and which were still usable. He envisioned the bike as it should be. That was the key; the vision. Seeing what should be and making it real.
Tam and Little Nico came over for their break, and they played rock and finished taking the bike apart. He took them in for lunch, and they ate barbecued chicken sandwiches, homemade chips, and watermelon. He helped clean up, then went upstairs to help Vu finish off another Zuni children’s book. David made a beaded T-shirt with Hu, her laughter beautiful, like tiny beads of joy. Damia seemed content to have Hu in the room as she read, and did her math lessons followed by math games, and ancient history, as well.
The girls were chased out to prepare snacks together, and they soon came up with little bits of a dark brown bread and a dipping oil, shredded carrots and cabbage —all put together in a spicy sauce, and rolled into tiny tortillas, accentuated by cubes of cheese. The Owl Pack and the kids devoured the snacks in minutes. Then, Hu and Damia went to go and do the afternoon chores, and took a plate down with them.
“They are amazing,” said Robert, his voice hushed.
“They are like hummingbirds,” said David, carefully putting the beaded T-shirt away. “They flit from place to place, and brighten the lives of everyone around them.”
“What’s going on with Grace?” asked Robert. “She’s a little thundercloud.”
Vu nodded. “Her precious sister decided to separate from her. They are all on a spectrum. Damia is our silent one, Hu in the middle, but closer to Damia than Grace, and Grace is loud and brash (and always ready to go). She is actively trying to tone herself down.”
“She doesn’t know the line between bright spark and sandpaper,” observed Jake.
“Exactly,” said Vu. “Once she learns to adjust the brightness, she’ll be just fine.”
Robert left the Owl Pack, who were all busily working on their project, and went to the kitchen. He helped Vi put away plates, and then headed over to talk to the Wolfpack. The van pulled up, Chayton opened the door, and five spilled out. Five more ran out the door and hopped in, Hu amongst them. Robert went to the hydroponics lab, and found Mike there.
They picked cucumbers, radishes, beets, and strawberries. “How are you doing?” Robert asked Mike, as he cut the heads off the strawberries and put them in reusable containers.
“I’m good,” said Mike. “We adjusted the romaine a bit, got a mix that makes them more ‘happy.’ Gotta listen to your plants.”
It pleased Robert to no end to hear a man that used to be a defeated, broken shell, speaking so happily about listening to plants. “Good,” he said. “How do you listen to them?”
Mike showed him an app on his cell phone. “They talk to us through the sensors. They like to be sung to, too. I sing in the morning. Nantan usually has the afternoon, but he switched because Nantan is taking the kids on a volunteer thing, playing soccer and other stuff with the Special Olympics kids.”
“Whoa,” said Robert. “I wanna…”
Mike laughed. “We’ll go together. Yumi and Ian will be here in ten.”
“Good,” said Robert. “Let’s get this cucumber shredded.”
“Half sliced, half shredded,” said Mike. He handed Robert a knife. They attacked the vegetables.
They had all the food sealed in containers by the time the Wolfpack members showed up. “I ride with you?” asked Mike, as the men spilled outside into the sun. They slid on their shades.
“Of course,” said Robert. They grabbed Robert’s Zuni-painted bike, and they went to the park with the ducks and the huge white swans. They did races and played volleyball —and bought breadcrumbs that they could help the players feed to the swans. They spent the day laughing, once so hard that they sprayed Coke out of their noses.
They headed to a wings restaurant, and drank beer and ate chicken wings in various flavors, and watched a baseball game. Gregory showed up, as did Tito, along with half of the Soldier Pack. They watched another game, arm-wrestled, and exchanged stories about their various jobs.
“Had a client, wanted a driver/bodyguard, and to be driven around in a bulletproof vehicle. Turns out he was an insurance adjuster from Omaha who wanted to look good for
the ladies,” said Thandie. “Got him lots of dates. Turned out the car had to be detailed afterward, if you know what I mean.”
“Ugh,” said Saleem. “Idiot.”
“It gets worse,” said Specialist Peter Pompa, who they called “Pomp.” “I was responsible for fixing firewalls, that sort of thing. You’d be amazed the viruses hidden in pictures, it’s unreal.”
“Really?” asked Robert.
“Just information,” said Pomp. “Anyway, this guy’s got pictures on his hard drive. So, I went through it, looking for viruses. Stuff that the virus software isn’t looking for. Guy had dirty pictures on his website, normal stuff, heavy breathing, some spanking.” There were laughs around the table. “Anyway, there were viruses to slowly send stuff off his hard drive in a trickle, at work and home, at the times he would normally be on the computer in either place. Turns out it was his ex-wife looking for hidden assets. The thing is, she was wrong, and she spent more on hiring a guy to do the deed than she would have gotten to increase the settlement. Plus, she and the hacker she hired broke several laws. They’re both doing two to ten in prison.”
“Whoa,” said Specialist Barch, (HELO repair specialist turned motorcycle repair specialist). He was making a lot of money repairing custom bikes. They called him the “Harley Specialist.”
Sayan took a drink of his Coke and got more wings. “Worse story,” he said. “Found kiddie porn on a client’s computer. Finished the job, a simple thing, beefed up his internet security, then the FBI got a little call. Left a cute little backdoor for them. They busted twenty-two people, saved six kids.”