Mary’s eyes harden. For a second, I fear I’ve overstepped the line, but I’m to be proven wrong.
“I couldn’t agree more, Grumbler. While between adults like us, a four-year difference is nothing at all, at her age, Owen’s got a wealth of experience she’s still got to learn. Now I’ve just got to explain that to her.”
I raise my chin, then at last, head to my bike. There’s a hell of a lot more than four years between us, doll. Try twenty or so. I’m old enough to be your father.
What’s odd, I ponder as I head for the club, is why I find that thought troublesome.
Chapter Fourteen
Grumbler
“Found something I don’t like, Grumbler.” Token’s mouth purses after he gives me those words.
It was he who called me into his office. Emitting a low growl, I prompt him, “Well don’t fuckin’ keep it to yourself, Brother.”
Token nods thoughtfully. “Let me give you some background first. I’ve been searching the web for books which uses one of Devon’s photos on the cover. He has a website, Starring Roles. He boasts he’s sold over six hundred photos.”
“Since when?” I might not be good at reading, but mental math is no problem for me. Even at three hundred dollars a time, Devon’s made himself a cool one hundred and eight thousand dollars.
“The website’s been running a couple of years.” Token seems to know where my mind is going. “That’s not all profit, remember, he’ll have to rent out studio space.”
“It’s not a bad return for taking some shots and putting them on his website.”
“There’ll be editing time, arranging models. For all the photo’s he’s shot, there will be some that will have wasted his time.”
I raise my chin, acknowledging the point. “But if he’s not paying models, he could double his return?”
“Yeah. I doubt he’d get away with doing it all the time, but perhaps often enough.”
Even half the time would make it a tidy little income.
“There’s worse,” Token adds, his brow creasing. “We know Devon Starr isn’t his real name, or any derivative of it.” I nod, knowing that full well. “So,” Token continues, “I did some digging into the images which carried his website watermark. I came up with something, a photo that I think got into the wrong file, but it led me to some other images.”
Now he turns the monitor around to face me. I stare at them for a moment. After I’ve taken in the subject matter, I say, “Fuck.”
“Still could be totally innocent. I mean, you get images like this in Playboy. Every young kid’s spank bank fodder.”
I think I should warn Mary to keep Alicia well away from Devon Starr were he to surface and ask her daughter to model again. She’d be distraught were her daughter be pressured into modelling with no clothes, and in darn near indecent positions.
“For these pics, he goes by the name of Ad Wilson.”
“Why use a different name if he’s building a legit business?”
“Could be nothing,” Token admits. “Or could be a way to scam more models.”
I tap my hand against his desk for a moment. “Any recent activity on his Starring Roles site?”
“Yes. New photos uploaded yesterday.” He turns the monitor back, and taps at some keys, then, again, it’s facing me.
Like on his main website, there are hundreds of pictures of my bike, well, in its supporting role of course. I note Alicia’s beaming smile, and also the way she’s looking at Owen. Christ, either that girl’s an actor, or she genuinely thinks the sun shines out of his ass. A little warning bell rings. If she truthfully has feelings for him, she won’t like that we’re trying to draw him out. But she doesn’t know. She thinks Dusty’s sudden yearning to become a model is genuine.
“He’s selling photos under both names?”
“I suspect he wants some legit ones to draw people in. I’ll keep digging,” Token tells me. “I’ve got feelers out for both of his identities on the dark web.” He puts his hand to his forehead and raps on it. “Got a bad feeling about this, Grumbler. But fuck it, I don’t know why.”
“You think it goes deeper than scamming his models?”
“When there’s a bad smell, there’s usually something rotting.”
I lift my chin. Maybe it’s because in our life we’ve grown to be suspicious, but I tend to agree.
It’s obvious Token’s got nothing more for me now. “You get your shovel working,” I tell him as I stand. “Meanwhile, I’ve got to go fix a car.”
He grimaces, knowing I much prefer working with bikes, but I’ll do what I need to.
“Hey, you going on the ride this weekend?”
That’s an easy one to answer. “That I am. I’m looking forward to it.”
Setting off for our auto-shop, I put a good day’s work in, replacing a clutch, then doing a full service. It’s par for the course, and the next few days continue in the same pattern as I’ve become used to.
During the day, I work. In the evenings I have a drink, play cards or pool, or just shoot the shit with the brothers. The only change is that I keep looking at my phone, seeing if I’ve missed a call from Mary. I tell myself, I only want to know if our plan has worked. That she’s not called means Alicia’s not contacted Owen as yet.
I’d told her to call me if things got tough with her daughter. Yeah, as if I’m anyone who can give kid-raising advice. All I know is that I once was one and probably behaved a hundred times worse.
Why should a woman like Mary want to discuss her daughter with me? Or maybe, things are going well, and Alicia is behaving.
Friday’s church is the normal affair with other business mostly confined to discussions about and final arrangements being made for our beach ride out the next day. We end on a high note with brothers upbeat and assing around about the things they’ll be getting up to, earning a reprimand from the prez, reminding us we’ll be on a public beach. Yeah, like Devils would worry about that.
I leave the meeting with a grin on my face and collect my phone from the box. After getting a drink, I nod when I’m invited into a game. I’m staring at the cards I’m holding, trying not to frown at the hand I’ve been dealt and wondering what call to make, when my phone vibrates.
Taking it out of my pocket, I answer, “Grumbler here.”
“It’s Mary.”
“Hi, doll. How you doing?” Raising my arm, I signal Pennywise to cover my hand, then I stand and walk to the door of the clubroom. “Hold on, I’m just going somewhere I can hear myself think.”
“Is there a party?”
“Yeah. I was in a card game.”
“Sorry to interrupt.”
“Don’t apologise. I was losing.” I chuckle to let her know I really don’t mind. “How’s your week been?”
“Surprisingly good. Alicia’s been doing her schoolwork without being told. Of course, it’s all because she wanted to stay at her friend’s tonight.”
“And did she get her way?”
I imagine her rolling her eyes. “Of course.”
“You check this friend out?”
“I don’t have to. It’s Marisa. They’ve been friends for years. It’s quite usual for her to be here, or Alicia at hers. I often joke she’s my second daughter.”
She’s alone. Does she want company? What am I thinking? Fit woman like her is probably not lacking friends of her own. It doesn’t stop me asking, “So what are you up to with time on your hands?”
“I’m just about to put a movie on, oh, and I’ll open a bottle of wine.”
A car pulls up, and out steps three giggling girls. They cross over the parking lot toward me, give me a cursory dismissive glance and also a wide berth as they walk into the clubroom. They’ll be making a beeline for Dusty once inside, I’m certain. He’s always a draw with the young hangarounds who come up from town.
As the noise of the party increases then diminishes when the door is opened and closed, I find myself envying Mary’s more peaceful evening. I
must be getting old, as flopping on a couch to watch a movie seems quite inviting just now.
But I haven’t been invited.
“Got a good weekend planned?” I ask.
“Not really. Weekends are when I catch up with all my chores. But I’m going for a drink with my co-workers tomorrow night. They’re dragging me out on the town.”
Looking for a man. Perhaps she’ll find one. I suppress the urge to growl a warning about being careful who she picks up. Good-looking women are fair pickings.
“What about you, Grumbler? How will you be passing the time?”
“The club is going for a ride out along the coast, we’ll stop off and have a barbeque,” I find myself telling her.
“That sounds fun.” The way she says it sounds like she means it. It makes me wonder about asking her if she’d like to come.
What am I thinking? These thoughts have no right being in my head, but it doesn’t stop me asking, “You ever been on a bike, Mary?”
“No.”
“There’s nothing like feeling the pavement beneath your wheels, the wind in your hair, the sun on your face, feeling you’re one with the elements,” I muse. “Instead of watching the scenery go by, you’re part of it.”
“Are you trying to sell it to me, Grumbler?” She chuckles.
Am I? Of course not. “Never had a woman on the back of my bike.” I say it half in warning. I’m not going to start now. If Mary was riding behind me, I might get ideas that I shouldn’t, not with the huge age difference between us, and it would be all one-sided. She’d not see anything in a grumpy old man.
“I just wanted to check in. Let you know Owen hasn’t yet made contact.”
“I’m glad you did.” An idea hits me. “You checked Alicia’s where she said she’d be?”
Mary snorts. “I should be annoyed you’re questioning my daughter’s truthfulness or criticising my parenting skills. Thing is, though, I’ve been checking her phone. It’s been at Marisa’s all evening.”
“And young girls are surgically affixed to their phones.”
She laughs. “You’ve got it. Well, I’ll let you get back to your party.”
The sound level has increased, and she must be able to hear it in the background. Loud music and watching my brothers’ dicks plough various holes? Or spend a quiet evening in with a woman and a movie. If I was given the choice, I know what I’d choose now. But it hasn’t been offered, and if it were, it would be wrong to accept.
“Yeah. I left Pennywise playing my shit hand of cards. Need to see whether he’s recovered any of my losses.” I doubt it. He’s not a magician.
“Don’t lose too much. And we’ll speak soon. As soon as Owen makes contact, I’ll let you know.”
“Dusty’s ready and waiting.”
With that, I end the call, never being one for lengthy goodbyes. Re-entering the clubroom, I see that Dusty is far from ready, not with his pants down around his ankles, and his dick disappearing into the crotch of one of the girls who’d just entered. Two things are obvious—one, she hasn’t wasted time, and two, that the pool table is out of action for now.
The card game has ended, and not well if the look on Pennywise’s face is anything to go by.
“Couldn’t do shit with those cards you left me with.”
Sighing, I take out my wallet. “How much am I down?”
Pennywise’s expression changes. “Put your wallet away, old man. Might have lost that hand but recouped your losses in the next.”
I grin. “And they didn’t want to keep playing with you at the table?”
It seems they didn’t. I don’t blame them. Pennywise is the closest we’ve got to a card shark—on a good day that is. He’s not unbeatable, but tonight he’s done me a favour.
I slap him on the back and when he turns around and eyes the room, I do as well. The tables have been pushed back, and bodies, mainly female, are writhing on the makeshift dance floor. Twerking, sticking their asses out, all in the hopes of snagging one of the, to them, desirable men. Cindy is twirling around the stripper pole, going through her routine. It’s not just the music that’s gotten louder. To make themselves heard, men are raising their voices adding to the cacophony of sound.
For years this has been my life and I’ve been more than happy with it. Only a few months back, Smoker and I would be in the midst of it. Is it just because my friend has gone that I’m seeing things differently now? How can I feel alone when I’m in a crowd?
It’s strange, but I feel out of place—an onlooker looking in from the outside.
Disturbed by my thoughts, I retreat to my room.
The good thing is, having become used to the noise levels in the clubhouse, they don’t keep me awake. I have, for me, an early night, waking early and refreshed.
There is something to be said for avoiding party night—I start my weekend without a hangover, my thoughts on the ride this coming afternoon. I’m hungry as hell though, so I take a quick shower, dress fast, then proceed downstairs. At this time on a Saturday, the club girls will probably be sleeping off the effects of last night, so I’ll have to cook something for myself. Doesn’t bother me. I’m not helpless.
I’ve got bacon sizzling when Wrangler walks in. The prospect licks his lips and sniffs dramatically. We don’t starve prospects, though I’m sure not cooking for him as well. He can make his own when I’ve finished at the stove.
“Strange that you’re up, Grumbler.”
“Strange?” I half turn. “Just because I’ve got better things to do than stay in bed all day?”
“Got any extra?” Niran walks in, pushing past the prospect, his hands wiping over the short dark hair on his head.
“Sure,” I tell him with a grin toward Wrangler. Watching members eat is all part of the hazing prospects have to go through. “Eggs?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Wrangler shakes his head. “I said strange because a bitch was trying to get onto the compound just now using your name.”
“A bitch?”
“Yeah. Young kid. She was at the gate, crying and shit. I sent her away. She was just probably using a name that she’d heard, figured she was going to land being a baby daddy on you or something. But it wouldn’t be you. You don’t like them young.”
Someone was asking for me? “She give a name?” I pause with the spatula held in the air.
“Liz?” Wrangler’s eyes crease. “Allie? Oh yeah, that was it. Alicia.”
“Alicia?”
“Trouble?” Niran’s standing at attention.
“How did she get here?” I reach into my cut for my phone.
“Uber or Lyft or something. I don’t know.” Wrangler looks confused.
“Cab took her away?” Christ, I hope she’s gone home. Why the fuck had she come to see me?
“Nah, it had left. She’s walking into town.”
Walking? It’s fucking three miles to the city, another three to get to her momma’s house.
Turning off the burners, I start to move fast. “You can forget your fuckin’ patch!” I yell at Wrangler, pushing his shoulder hard as I rush past.
“Why? What the fuck, Grumbler?”
His voice fades behind me as I rush out of the clubhouse and jump onto my bike. Starting it, I’m not surprised to hear another come to life with a roar behind me. I haven’t had to say a word, Niran knows me, and knows I wouldn’t take off unless there was trouble. And when trouble surfaces, brothers have your back.
Connor, presumably having taken over from Wrangler, is manning the gate. He has it open before we reach it. Once on the road, I continue down the track until we reach the highway, then head into town. I don’t go fast, my eyes scanning the kerbside in case, heaven forbid, Alicia’s been struck by a car.
I can’t believe that prospect just kicked her out without even bothering to check with me. When it comes to voting him in, he’s not getting my vote.
Chapter Fifteen
Grumbler
One thing I’ll say, youn
g girls walk fast. It’s almost ten minutes before I spy a shape that looks like her, and drawing closer, recognise the long blond hair hanging down her back. Overtaking, I pull up just in front of her.
Not knowing what’s happening or why, Niran brings his bike to a halt behind.
“Alicia. What the fuck?”
I’m off my bike and hurrying over to her. Oh fuck. Her face is red, her eyes and nose look raw, and tears are still falling. She tries to wipe them away on a tissue which is already crumpled and soggy.
I gentle my voice. “Alicia, baby. What’s happened? You need your mom?” I might never have had a female riding behind me, don’t even have a pillion seat on my bike, but I’ll just squash myself up to make this work. This is an emergency and I don’t hesitate. “Get on my bike, I’ll take you to her.”
Her eyes widen, “No, please.” Her voice breaks. “I-can’t, I can’t speak to her. Not now.”
I’m rapidly thinking. Alicia came to me, and she’s not ready to speak to her mom. “Has something happened?”
My question starts the tears falling again. As Alicia drops her head, wracking sobs shaking her body, Niran comes up alongside me, suggesting quietly, “I think we should get her back to the clubhouse. Get Lost here with Patsy.”
I still think she needs to go home to her mom. But the clubhouse is nearer, and in the state the kid’s in, with her needing to hang onto me on the bike, a shorter journey might be safer. Once there, I can call Mary, and get her to come collect her.
Gently I put my hand on her shoulder. “Come with me. We’ll go back to the clubhouse. See if we can get whatever it is sorted.”
“It can’t be sorted,” she wails. Then, she clutches at my cut. “It will never be right, Grumbler.”
A feeling of dread grows in me. “Someone hurt you?”
Grumbler's Ride: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #2 Page 12