“But you didn’t speak to him. I did. As far as he knows, you are an ignorant biker.” I wink to soften my words. “You weren’t the one chasing payment.”
“Fuck. You’re right.” Then, again, his face falls. “But I spoke to Owen.”
I know, he’d told me. “You think he might be working with Devon, them skimming everyone else. But you don’t know it. Isn’t it worth a try?”
Leaning back his head, he closes his eyes briefly. Just when I think he’s about to dismiss my idea, he takes his phone out of his pocket. I suspect he’s going to text or make a call, and start to turn away to give him privacy, but he calls my attention back. Instead, he’s pulled up some photos and is scanning through them. “Got some pics here. Most are ones I’ve taken when the assholes have been fooling around, but you can get an idea. You’re a better judge than me. Any of them look likely? That’s Pennywise and Salem right there.” I cock an eyebrow at the strange names. He chuckles as he explains, “Our old prez was going through a Stephen King phase.”
“They’re not bad. But if Owen’s an example of what he’s after, maybe someone younger?”
“Hmm. Not sure. Ah, yeah. Look. There’s Keeper and Deuce.”
They’ve got characterful faces, but not my taste. The next picture makes me shake my head. Poor guy doesn’t have a complete set of teeth and those he has are crooked. He’s certainly not photogenic. Niran’s black, which doesn’t exclude him, but again, older.
“What about him?” I point to one who’s got shaggy shoulder-length blond hair, a short beard, and the main selling point, piercing blue eyes which are staring straight at the camera. I disregard whoever it is making devil horns above his head.
“Dusty? He’s thirty.”
“He looks younger.”
Grumbler stares at the photo as though he’d never tried to see his brothers as a woman would before. “You think young girls would go for him?”
“Young or old. Remember, many readers are older. He,” I tap the phone, “has a kind of universal appeal.”
Grumbler’s expression shows he can’t quite see it, but his words suggest he’s accepted my endorsement. “So we’ve got our victim. Now, how are we going to contact Devon?”
I’m kind of proud he’s asking my advice. “We ask Alicia to suggest it to Owen. She speaks to him.”
“Instead of getting the mouse to enter the lion’s den, we send the lion to meet the mouse. I like it.” Grumbler’s nodding with approval. “I like the way you think, woman.”
And I like a man who doesn’t have to come up with all the ideas. I’ve enjoyed talking this out with Grumbler and impressed that he’s taking my advice.
“Will Dusty go along with it?”
“Doll, I’m the sergeant-at-arms, and he’s my brother, but in this case, I know there’ll be no need for persuasion. He’ll jump at the chance. I only have to ask.”
It must be nice to have that security of knowing you have men behind you who’d do whatever you needed.
I hear a door open and close. It would appear Alicia has emerged from her room at last. Realising she won’t know we have a visitor, I hastily excuse myself to go check she’s decent before she emerges.
Chapter Thirteen
Grumbler
Well I’ll be fucked. Mary’s come up with a fucking good idea. If Devon falls for it, Dusty can lead us right to where he’ll be shooting his shots. That woman has a good head on her shoulders.
I can’t recall taking advice from a bitch before, not that I’d summarily dismiss it had it been offered on the grounds they lacked a part of anatomy unique to males. Prior to my chats with Mary, conversations with women normally revolved around what sexual position they preferred. I think I’ve had more discussions with Mary over the past week than I’ve had with any female in the past thirty years. When she’d been at the end of the phone, it had been as easy as though I was talking to one of my brothers, only the lack of swear words coming from her mouth had reminded me that I wasn’t.
Now that I’m in her presence again, I’m reminded how far removed she is from any of them. Especially now, as I watch her walk away to go greet her daughter, finding my eyes lingering on her until she disappears. She has a fine figure for a woman. I suspect she’s late thirties or possibly even hit forty from what I can see. Her face, while still youthful, has lines of maturity etched on it.
Her eyes, I love her eyes. They look large in her face, and so expressive. But, however attractive I’m starting to find her, she’s off-limits, far too young for me.
Rinsing my empty coffee cup, I place it in the sink, then wander into the living room. There’s a picture on the side table I hadn’t noticed last time I was here. I go and pick it up. It’s a lovely snap of Mary and a man, his arms are around her and both are grinning. She’s younger in it, so it’s not recent. I wonder who the man is. Obviously a lover, a brother wouldn’t have that heat in his eyes as he looks at her. Her husband, I deduce.
“That’s me and Dave.” Mary’s soft voice sounds from behind me as she gives me the confirmation. “It was taken shortly before he died.”
I wonder whether she’s still grieving and suspect she is. I’ve recently lost Smoker, and hell, I miss the bugger. I’ll continue hearing his voice in my head for some time to come, I suspect, but that’s nothing to losing someone you shared your dreams with.
“Alicia’s just making herself decent. I’ve told her you’re here and want to talk to her.”
It’s down to me then, but I need her advice. “How do I play this?”
Mary grimaces. “Tell her exactly what you want her to tell Owen,” she half whispers. “She’s got no reason to know she’s not passing on a genuine request.”
I get her meaning and agree one hundred percent. I don’t know how good an actress Alicia is, so she may not be able to pull it off if she knows she’s spinning a line.
“Morning, Grumbler.”
“Good afternoon, kid.” I grin, not a stranger to people sleeping in on the mornings after a heavy night, though I doubt Alicia spent last night fucking and drinking. “You good?”
“Great.”
“You seen Devon lately?” I know she hasn’t told her mom she has, but it’s worth a try.
“No. Owen hasn’t either.”
“You’ve spoken to him again?” Mary butts in, her annoyance showing.
I try and signal with my eyes that she should be careful. On this occasion, we actually want her to speak to him.
Alicia ignores her mom. “Is that your motorcycle outside?”
I raise my chin.
“Cool. I thought I recognised it.”
“It’s a shame you haven’t spoken to Devon,” I tell her, trying to inject disappointment into my voice.
“You want your money,” she states.
“Sure, that would be nice, but one of my brothers is interested in modelling for him.”
She turns and gives me an appraising look, and I know she’s putting me into the grandfather age bracket. It dawns on me, any blood brother of mine would be deemed to be too old too. Again I get out my phone, pulling up Dusty’s photo again. “That’s him. And that’s his bike.”
Her eyes expand. While I know Dusty’s far too old for her, or at least, that’s what I hope he’d think, she’s obviously seeing something her mom had and that I’d missed. “That’s your brother?”
“My MC brother, another member. We’re like family,” I explain.
“I’d love to model with him,” she sighs, dreamily. I have to signal to Mary with my eyes once again. Especially when Alicia adds, “Could you introduce me to your brothers? Have they all got motorbikes? Do you think Dusty would give me a ride?”
Now that I’ve got to shut down fast. “Well, you see, Alicia. A man’s ride is something special to him. Some men don’t mind, but to most, there’s only one woman they’d take on the back of their bike, and that’s one who’s special and who is going to become their ol’ lady.”
Her head ti
lts to one side. “Old lady? You said that the last time you were here.”
Mary indicates a seat, and I take the hint, leaning back and crossing my legs at the ankles. “Old lady’s a term we use for what you’d call a wife. A woman you’re going to commit to.”
Alicia sits on the couch opposite. “Have you got an old lady?”
“No, never have, never will.” Knowing the kid would understand, I add, “I’m too old.” That she doesn’t refute it, confirms that I am. My time has passed, I accept it.
“I don’t think I want to get married,” Alicia says, quite seriously.
“You’ve got plenty of time,” Mary interjects. “You might if you meet the right man.”
“Not every man’s like Daddy.”
She’s right there, I think to myself. It seems like Mary caught herself a good one, but so many are cheaters or abusers. Must be hard navigating your way through all that.
“If you don’t want to get married, you don’t. You find your happy on your own, then good for you. You don’t have to abide by society’s expectations.” Fuck knows I don’t myself. And I might be old, but I’m not old-fashioned. In the same way I don’t think I need a woman, I don’t think women need a man to complete them.
“You want to stay for lunch, Grumbler? I was just going to make something for us.”
Why not? I’ve got nothing else planned for today. “Sure.”
That’s how I end up spending another couple of hours in the company of the two women. A couple of times I act as referee when I find they have some opposing views, but suspect Alicia is just arguing for the sake of it. It doesn’t faze me. I’ve seen enough of that between brothers over the years. In all, I find it relaxing. It’s been a while since I was entertained in anyone’s home. Well to be honest, the feeling of being a guest soon disappears.
Mary and Alicia’s home is comfortable. Tidy and clean enough, but with dust visible on some of the surfaces, a couple of cobwebs on the walls, and a floor which could do with a quick encounter with a vacuum settled me more than a spotless home. The type of place I could kick off my boots and make myself comfortable—or keep them on, and no one would complain about it. A house spotless and tidy would set me on edge.
“What does your club do?” Alicia asks.
I notice Mary’s eyes flick to me in concern, as if she’s got suspicions she doesn’t want confirmed.
“Well, Alicia, let’s see. Like most MCs we run an auto-shop. The custom work we do has become so successful, we’ve split that part off. That’s now run out of a spare hangar up at our compound.”
“Hangar?”
I explain, “The compound is on an abandoned airfield. One hangar has been converted to a clubroom and living space.”
“Sounds cool. Are there any planes there?”
I chuckle. “Not anymore. The runways are all broken up with weeds growing through.”
“Is that all your club does? Work on bikes?”
“And cars, trucks. Anything mechanical really. Not the big stuff though. But no, that’s not all. Not long back we bought the shop next door to the garage and set it up to sell biker apparel. That’s become a place where civilian bikers like to shoot the shit and hang out. Keeper gets the credit for coming up with that one. Blaze runs our tattoo parlour, Deuce our bar, and Brakes our strip club. All the brothers work at one place or another.”
“Do they each own the businesses?”
“Club owns them,” I answer Mary. “We all get an equal take.”
Her brow furrows. “But what if someone’s not pulling their weight? Do they still get paid the same?”
“If someone’s not doing their share, well, that’s where I come in,” I wink at her, “aided by Salem the enforcer.”
“It sounds like a commune,” she observes.
“Kind of,” I agree.
“What do all the names mean?” Alicia asks. “You haven’t mentioned anyone with a normal one.”
“Names are given when you patch in—that’s become a full member. Sometimes, like Salem and Pennywise, it’s the prez’s fancy. Sometimes it’s because of something you look like or do.”
“Do you grumble a lot?” the kid queries.
I snort but try to wear an innocent expression. “I apparently have been known to.” Christ knows how I originally picked up that name. I swear I’ve grown into it and didn’t start out that way.
“Tell us about some of the others,” Alicia asks.
“Well, I can’t explain them all, kid. Names are personal. But for those I can—take Reboot, for example. Whenever our computer guy had a problem, Reboot would tell him to switch whatever device it was off and back on. Token got so fed up with him, he suggested the handle.”
“What about Dusty?”
The memory makes me smile. “See, we were out on a ride one day, we were going to a hog roast at one of the friendly clubs up near Los Angeles. We wanted to impress, you know?” Alicia nods as though she does. “All of our rides were fuckin’ perfect, gleaming chrome, polished tanks. There was a car pulled up at the side of the road with the hood up. A man was leaning into it fiddling with the engine, while a girl in very short shorts and legs up to her ass was leaning against the door looking bored, long blond hair streaming out behind her. Dusty swears she locked eyes with him as he passed. Trouble was, he couldn’t stop looking at her. Had his eyes on the rearview when he hit a pothole in the road. He swerved onto the shoulder, and though he managed to stop upright, it was with one wheel half on, half off the pavement. Beside him was a short drop.” I bark a laugh.
“It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. Of course, all of us had pulled up to make sure he was alright. Seemed he was until he tried to get the bike back on the road. He lost his balance and he and his bike ended up in a mud hole. Well, we got both out, checked there was no damage, but he was a fuckin’ sight. I swear he had mud where mud has no business being. Anyway, the day was warm and soon the mud dried. So we turned up, a dozen of us on bikes which were gleaming, and then there was him. Our hosts took one look at him and said, ‘You’re a bit dusty’, and well, it stuck. We never let him forget it, and he was Dusty from that moment on.”
“You’re cruel.” She giggles. “What about Token?”
“Hard Token. You ever use a hotel key card to get into your room?” When she nods, I continue, “That’s a hard token, a security device.”
“Tell me some more.”
I frown. “Well there’s Scribe. He’s always on about writing a book, but if he is, we’ve never seen it. Then there’s Kink—”
Mary shoots Alicia a that’s enough look and gets my attention by lifting her fingers. “All your businesses sound legit.”
I chuckle again. “They are, and I assure you, we’re not into money laundering. The cops and feds keep too close an eye on us for us to be doing something illegal.” The killing and burying bodies I think it’s best I keep to myself.
“Why have you got the reputation you have? I assumed you were involved with gun running or drugs?”
“Not saying we never were, but we got out of the drug trade when Drummer, he’s the prez of our mother chapter in Tucson, took the helm. Gun running too. There’s too much risk of a brother dying or ending up in jail with that sort of business. No one currently in the club wants to touch either of those.”
“Currently?”
“Yeah. We had a clean out a few years back. Nine men left the club because they wanted to take it in the wrong direction.” Two were dead at the hands of the mother chapter prez. One died during the mutiny and six sent out bad. One of those met his end fairly recently. How Shark died brought memories of Smoker’s death back into my mind. I’d forgotten his absence for a few hours. Now I realise how much I would have enjoyed talking to him about Mary and Alicia, and that there was no one else I’d trust enough to confide in.
Mary has noted my look of pain. “One of them you were close to?”
She thinks I’m sad about the men who’d betrayed the
club which is far from the fucking truth. But, was I close to any of them? All of them, if she wants the truth. Until the plots were revealed, I’d have given my life for any of theirs. That’s why the betrayal had hit us so hard. “Nah, not them,” I correct. “I was just thinking of my friend who died a couple of months back. Cancer.” I don’t think she needs to know about the bullet which had advanced his natural death by a few months.
Alicia seems to have lost interest. “You don’t seem very exciting, not like Sons of Anarchy.”
“And when have you watched that?” Mary asks sharply.
“At Marisa’s. But only a couple of episodes, I got bored. It was all burning bodies alive and stuff.”
Mary’s already large eyes widen.
“You can’t believe the fictional stuff,” I tell her. “But MCs are about men who love riding bikes, and who want to live outside citizen laws. We share a bond together. Hurt one of us, and we all bleed.”
Mary gives me a look of understanding. Yeah, that’s why I know without asking, Dusty will jump at the chance to help out.
We finish eating. I help clear up, feeling like part of a family. When I leave, it’s with Alicia’s promise she’ll try and advance Dusty’s presumed desire for a modelling career the next time she speaks to Owen.
When Mary sees me out, she stands by the door before opening it. “It’s been interesting. I’ve enjoyed talking with you, Grumbler.”
I realise I’ve enjoyed myself as well.
“Offer still stands, doll. You need to vent about Alicia, feel free to call me.”
“She can be difficult.”
I laugh. “We were all young once. You might not believe this, but there was a time when I thought I knew it all.”
She shoots me a look that suggests I probably still do, and if she voiced that, then I wouldn’t be able to argue with her.
I glance toward my bike, then back at her. “Make sure she just contacts Owen by phone, okay? I’ve got bad feelings about the fucker. Maybe not justified, but my gut has been proved right more than once. I don’t…” I pause. I’m in no position to give her parenting advice. “I suggest she doesn’t spend time with him alone.”
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