My Bad Boy Biker

by Natasha Stories

  It wasn’t so easy to get on a bike, once I bunked at the clubhouse. No one wanted to loan their ride, so when we went out as a club, I was in the chase vehicle with Sarge or Doc, depending on where we were going. Doc didn’t get out much unless it was really important, like Sturgis.

  So I jumped at the chance to take Jake’s for a spin. I should have thought it through. Now not only was I lying in a hospital bed, possibly broken beyond repair, but Jake was reportedly up in arms about the loss of his bike. And who knew if evidence found on it was going to send me away for a nice, long, all-expense paid vacation on the State’s dime.

  Bitterly, I reflected on the reality versus my glamorized idea of being a member of the Dust Devils. So far, it was far from the best decision I’d ever made. Was I willing to go to prison for Jake? If not, did I dare cross the club? I hadn’t been let into the deepest secrets. From what I understood, ratting would get me killed. And what if I was even partially disabled? Would they send me to prison if I was paralyzed? Would I survive prison itself if they did?

  I was beginning to go to a very bad place in my head when the doc walked in. He took the brunt of it. In my croaky voice, rusty from disuse and with a sore throat from the intubation, I asked, “Is someone going to fucking tell me what shit life I have to look forward to now?”

  Dr. Wang hesitated with his mouth partly open and his eyes as wide open as he could get them. Then he composed his expression and came closer.

  “As I told you, Mr. Hayes, we believe you can recover most of your bodily functions. I am afraid it will be a long journey, however.”

  “Just tell me this, then. Will my dick still work?”

  An expression of distaste crossed his features. “Probably. You may require some adjustments in, ah, technique.”

  Probably. Fuck that. If I couldn’t be a man, I might as well off myself, assuming my hands would work well enough to pull a trigger. Without realizing it, I flexed them.

  “Very good, Mr. Hayes!” Wang exclaimed. “I came in to tell you that an occupational therapist will be here shortly to test your nerve and muscle function. Already you have demonstrated that you have some use of your hands. This is a very good sign.”

  I couldn’t summon much enthusiasm, though it was looking a little less bleak. “When? How long will it be before someone can tell me if I’ll walk again, or ride again?”

  “You must be patient Mr. Hayes. These tests take time, and in addition, you will experience a greater or lesser degree of healing, changing the prognosis from day to day. Suffice it to say, I doubt you’ll be riding anymore this year. By the time the weather is suitable next year, perhaps. You will have to work for it.”

  I didn’t appreciate the roller coaster. The flash of anger when I realized I was done for the next several months, followed by the glimmer of hope that next spring would bring better news. But I did understand the last sentence, and I took it as a challenge. I knew how to work. If that would return my life to me, I could do it.

  “Do you have any more questions for me, Mr. Hayes? If not, there’s a young lady outside who’d like to see you. Do you feel up to a visit?”

  Cricket. Had to be. None of the Bunnies would be giving me the time of day now. And I didn’t have that many friends otherwise. What was I going to tell her? That she might as well go on home to her family and forget about me? “I don’t think so,” I replied.

  “Very well. Please try to cooperate with the occupational therapist, though. It will be in your best interest.”

  “Whatever.”

  Cricket

  I waited anxiously outside Zach’s room while the doctor spoke to him. Dr. Wang had promised to ask Zach if he’d see me, since only authorized persons were getting past the guards. I didn’t think he’d turn me away, but I wasn’t so sure about hospital security, if anyone recognized me.

  To prevent that, I’d put on heavy makeup, purchased a turquoise wig, and was wearing heavy plastic-framed glasses with non-prescription lenses. I’d wanted sunglasses, but Rose pointed out that would look suspicious.

  At least we’d be able to talk. Dr. Wang, who was just as guilty of my intrusion as I was, had told me they’d removed Zach’s airway. I had no idea why he was sympathetic to me or my cause, but Rose had recruited him to sneak me into the hospital.

  I hoped to talk to him about Zach’s condition and prognosis after my visit. With the loss of my job, I had no more time to waffle over whether to stay with Zach. I had to make a decision. If I was going, it had to be soon. If I was staying, I probably needed to find a part-time job somewhere, also soon.

  Rose seemed to understand my dilemma, though we hadn’t discussed it. It seemed to me she was sympathetic to our relationship, and maybe she wanted some help with his care, too. I knew enough to be aware his road to healing could be long and painful.

  Which brought me back around to needing to know just what I’d be facing. Sure, I cared about Zach. Cared deeply, in fact. I just didn’t know if that caring had reached the stage of unconditional love that could stand the stresses of caring for a chronic patient.

  All my concerns about my health went out the window when Doc Wang emerged from Zach’s room with his forehead bunched into a frown. My pulse started racing within seconds. What was wrong? Had Zach taken a turn for the worse? I rushed to the doctor and grabbed him by the shoulders.

  “Tell me he’s okay!”

  He took my wrists and gently freed his shoulders from my grip. “Calm yourself, Miss Bax… I mean… calm yourself.” He looked around to see if anyone had heard his near-gaffe in starting to call me by name. Not seeing anyone near, he went on. “Zach is fine. That is, he’s stable, and nothing has happened to alarm us. However, he isn’t taking his situation well. He’d rather not see anyone right now.”

  I slumped. Relief, grief, and a sudden dread that he’d take my choice out of my hands before I’d had a chance to make it overwhelmed me, and I burst into tears.

  “There, there,” Wang said. It was almost comical enough to make me stop crying on the spot. Who said that? It sounded like he’d stepped out of the pages of a nineteenth-century novel. While he awkwardly patted me, he offered sympathy and advice. “I can see that you love him. You may want to take advantage of our hospital’s support groups for partners of traumatic injury patients. Don’t worry, this is just a phase. Right now, he’s frightened and angry. He will come to terms with his injury before long, and while he may still be frightened and angry, he’ll come to accept that he needs your support.”

  Fine words, but Dr. Wang didn’t know the true state of our relationship. It hadn’t matured to that level. He saw more in my tears than I did, and it made me feel like a fraud. However, I wasn’t going to correct him. If I was ever to sort this out, I needed his help to come and go in the hospital. I might as well let him think the best of me, while I was thinking the worst and trying to decide what to do.

  “Thank you, Dr. Wang. Can you tell me anything about his condition?”

  “No, I’m sorry. Until we have permission from him, I can’t.”

  “But, Rose, his mother, said…”

  “Unfortunately, because Mr. Hayes is an adult and is now conscious and deemed competent, even his mother requires his permission to access his medical records. You’ll just have to wait until he’s ready, I’m afraid.” Wang made a move as if to go, but I put my hand on his arm to delay him.

  “Please. Then give me a general overview. Tell me the worst-case scenario. What will I have to learn to do in order to take care of him?”

  Dr. Wang looked at his watch. “I have a short break for dinner. Would you care to join me in the cafeteria?”

  “I…”

  “Oh, of course, that won’t do. Across the street then. Do you like Mexican?”

  The thought of an Asian doctor eating at the Mexican restaurant across the street, which was a dive if I’d ever seen one, tickled me into giving a short bark of a laugh. He smiled, wreathing his round face in well-established laugh wrinkles. H
e held out his arm, crooked at the elbow, and escorted me gallantly to the elevator.

  I couldn’t say I enjoyed the dinner conversation. Between peering out the window anxiously to make sure there were no Dust Devils lurking about to attack me and the distasteful realities of caring for a quadriplegic punctuating the conversation, I couldn’t eat. When Dr. Wang finished up his crash course in caretaker necessities, he asked if I’d like a box for my meal, and when I declined, asked for one anyway.

  “Let me pay for your meal, since I will be taking it home,” he said. “I hope you do not object.”

  Bemused, I shook my head. I enjoyed the momentary distraction in wondering what in the world a doctor was doing taking home a doggy bag. Maybe he had a dog. A dog that liked Mexican food. The thought made me giggle. Maybe there was life after Zach’s crash after all.

  As we parted, I thanked him for his kindness and asked him to let Zach know I sent my love. Even if that turned out not to be where we ended up, I did love him right now. I’d be heartbroken if he never came around and let me see him, if only for the closure.

  I called Rose, who came to pick me up right away. She’d gone home for a nap once Zach was pronounced stable, and was eager to learn how my visit with Zach had gone.

  “It didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I looked over at her, while she concentrated on driving. Her hands were white with her grip on the wheel, and her jaw worked.

  “He wouldn’t see me.”

  I was lucky I was wearing a seatbelt, as she jammed her foot on the brake. ‘He what?”

  “He wouldn’t see me. Told Dr. Wang he wasn’t up to seeing anyone. But I think it was just me. You could probably visit.” I twisted my hands in my lap as I confessed it, but I schooled my expression to neutral. “Dr. Wang said this is just a phase. I hope it’s a short one. I need to…”

  “Don’t say it! Please, Cricket. Don’t make me believe you’d leave him. He loves you.”

  “Does he?”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Zach

  I was getting bored and ready to rip out all the lines and tubes and get out of there when the occupational therapist finally showed up two days after my accident. She was a chipper little blonde, which for some reason pissed me off.

  “Took you long enough,” I snarled.

  “Mr. Hayes, I’m sorry you feel we’ve neglected you. The truth is, you needed this time to begin to heal. This will go better for both of us if you can put aside your anger for a moment. Please understand, I’m not the one who put you in this position.”

  “Oh, and I am?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I understand a car clipped your back tire. I’m only saying I’m not the enemy.”

  Grudgingly, I backed down. There was no point in alienating the woman. I couldn’t smile, or concede, but I stopped needling her. She was right. It wasn’t her fault.

  She put me through my paces, asking me to move this or that, mostly my extremities. I already knew I could clench my hands. Ever since I’d done it involuntarily, I’d been practicing, opening and shutting them. When she praised the strength of my grip on a little rubber ball, I felt I’d accomplished something.

  That feeling went down the drain when I tried to move my toes. Her lips thinned, and she made a note on her clipboard. That didn’t look good.

  “Well? Did they move?”

  “The doctor will be in with a full report.”

  “Bullshit. You were happy to tell me when I did well with my hands. What the fuck does it mean when you won’t say? I’m not an idiot. My legs are paralyzed, aren’t they? I’m not gonna walk again, much less get on a bike or fuck my girl. Get out.”

  “Mr. Hayes, I’m going to ask you not to use crude language. There’s no reason for it. I understand your frustration. Actually, I should not have reacted to your success with your hands. All my statement meant is that I am not authorized to interpret the tests for you. Please, just wait for the doctor.”

  I wasn’t convinced. It was a cop out, a way to avoid telling me a harsh truth, and she was probably right to dodge my question. I was likely to strangle the person who told me for sure I was crippled for life, if I could reach them.

  I wanted to punch a wall, or get drunk and pass out. There was no way to relieve my anger except yell at the people who I knew were trying to help me. I should have apologized to her, but I didn’t. After a minute, she left without another word.

  If I couldn’t be civil to the medical professionals, how would I act toward Cricket, if she even came back? Mom came to visit, and I asked her about Cricket. Instead of answering, Mom scolded me for turning Cricket away, and changed the subject. After that, I didn’t ask, fearing that the reason for her non-answer was that Cricket had already left me. I knew about her losing her job. Mom saw to that.

  It seemed like an eternity before Dr. Wang came in that evening with the results of the tests.

  “Good evening, Mr. Hayes. How are you enjoying our hospitality? Does the food suit you?”

  I shot him a poisonous look. Not in the mood for jokes, buddy. He sighed, and opened the file he carried.

  “All right, down to business then. The good news is that you will be going home in a few weeks. We’ve determined that your injury is stable. Normal movement and the exercises we’ll prescribe will not further the damage. The bad news is that you’ll need to be here daily for physical and occupational therapy. We won’t know until time passes just how full a recovery you can make, but I can confidently say that if you’re willing to work, I believe you can walk again.”

  What? Did he say…?

  It took me a minute to catch my breath. When his words registered, it was as if I’d been right under a plane when it passed the sound barrier. All the air was sucked out of the room, and a psychic boom temporarily deafened me. When I found my voice, I shouted, “Doc, are you serious?”

  “I assure you, I am not in the habit of joking about such matters,” he said. But his face was all smiles. Maybe I was going to get to like him after all.

  “Can you give me anything else? I mean, how long? What kind of work? Will I be able to earn a living while I’m doing this?” As I rapidly fired the questions at him, he tried in vain to answer before the next question, until I had to breathe. Then he took the opportunity to get a word in.

  “As to the last question, that depends on your skills. It will be some months before you can perform physical labor. The work will be several hours a day of therapy that we will design for you. I can’t answer your first question. There has been nerve damage, which is difficult to measure. Over the next few weeks, we will perform some other tests that may be able to tell us more. For now, I would guess you are looking at several months of therapy at a minimum. I would not make any plans to go climbing mountains, or surfing.”

  I couldn’t keep a silly grin off my face as I tried to answer him in the same vein. “No MMA events, huh?”

  “Definitely not.” He gave me a severe look. “You are joking, are you not? Participation in such events may negate my earlier prognosis that your injury will not be aggravated by normal movement.”

  That was more syllables in one sentence than I’d ever heard. When I sorted it out, I had to laugh. “Don’t worry, Doc, I’m not an MMA fighter. Just an ordinary motorcycle jock.”

  Dr. Wang attempted a severe expression as he said, “I would advise you to stay off of motorcycles for the time being, as well.”

  When Mom came by that evening, she had Carl in tow. He hated the hospital. It was written all over his face and showed in the way he fidgeted the whole time. I could tell he had something to say to me that couldn’t be said in front of Mom. Too bad. He should have come on his own. But the looks he kept giving me when Mom wasn’t watching finally made me ask her if she’d get me a coffee from the vending machine. I hoped that would be enough time.

  As soon as she left, he came closer.

  “I have a message from Jake.”

  “I don’t wan
t to hear it. That fucker threatened to mess me up, and as you can see, I’m already messed up.”

  “You need to hear it. The cops are going to be here tomorrow to ask you about what was in the saddlebags.”

  “I don’t know anything about that.”

  He leveled a stare at me. “That’s what the message is about. You need to know. There was enough crystal in there to warrant a felony rap. You’re gonna take it.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You might as well. Lamest excuse in the book is ‘it wasn’t mine’.”

  “I’m not going to prison for a club I’m not even a member of. I have a chance to walk again, Carl. I need therapy, though. I can’t go to prison.”

  “You also have a chance to get dead if you roll over on Jake. The old men, they’re no threat. But Jake and his boys are a different matter. And besides, if you don’t cooperate, I could lose their business.”

  “Fuck you, Carl.”

  The words were barely out of my mouth before Mom breezed through the door with three cups of coffee balanced carefully between her long fingers. Holding them out to Carl as she passed him, she shifted them so he could take the outside cup and then handed me one. While her back was to him, Carl narrowed his eyes at me.

  I smiled at her. “Thanks, Mom. Hey. What’s Cricket doing? Does she know I’m sorry she lost her job? I need to see her.”

  Mom beamed back at me. “I’ll tell her. She’s been sad you wouldn’t see her before.”

  “I’ve got better news for her now.”

  Carl jiggled his knee while I told Mom what the doctor had said, and she made happy noises. When the nurse came in with my pain meds, both of them got up to go. Mom kissed my cheek and then went to the door. Carl came over and squeezed my shoulder. “You know what to do,” he said.