Hard Rider

We lay like that together for a short while – naked, sweaty, our heads rushing with post-sex brain chemicals.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side again,” he finally spoke.

“No?” I lifted my head.

“No,” Grizz repeated. “It was a mistake the first time. It cost me so much. But now I have you back again…”

“What about your club?” I asked.

He didn’t respond.

“Grizz, you’re here to do a job,” I reminded my lover. “How long are you supposed to be in New Orleans?”

“Open-ended,” he answered.

“And what does that mean?”

“Months, probably. There’s no telling. Was hoping to come home early, had things lined up to wrap up quickly… didn’t pan out.”

“So, you’re probably here for as far ahead as you can see, then. The foreseeable future.”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

I lowered my head back down to his chest. “Good. That means that we’ve got plenty of time to figure things out.”

He sounded tired, sad even. “I have obligations to my people. I can’t forget that… But I’m making you a part of my life.”

I smiled. I liked the conviction in his voice with that second half there.

I felt Grizz nod to himself.

He was lost in thought.

I wanted him back, tugged away from that distant place in his mind – back here with me.

“In the meantime,” I smirked, tracing the muscles of his arm with a fingernail, “you can fuck me like that every night. Sounds like a plan to me… how about you?”

His fingers brushed through my hair, and I knew he was smiling.

“Think I can work with that.”

“Good,” I grinned as I leaned up and planted my lips on his. “Because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer…”

Mudflap

One Month Later

Happy with the light at the end of my cigarette, I snapped my lucky zippo shut with a cool, quick wrist flick.

Southern summer nights being what they are, the night was hotter and muggier than Satan’s asshole.

The heat was a bitch and a half, but the mosquitos are what you really gotta worry about. Pesky winged fuckers were out in full bloom. After a few solid drags, though, the cigarette smoke was running overtime at keeping the annoying little pricks away.

But I was a Louisiana boy, through and through. Little bit of late night sweat and ‘skeeters never did me anything rough.

That runaway bitch, on the other hand…

“Yo, Mudflap!”

I turned my head, swatting at a little buzz near my ear. Tread was stumbling out of the roadside bar, a goofy look on his face.

“The boss says we gon’ hit the road in fifteen minutes. You ready?”

I pulled another drag of my fresh cigarette, blowing a quick bit of smoke. “I dunno, asshole. Do I look ready?”

Tread scratched the back of his head, a dumb look plastered across that stupid face of his. He was a loyal fucker, no doubt about it, but my old buddy had the brains of a goddamn brick.

“I… dunno! Maybe!”

I waved the cigarette in front of his face. “No, dipshit! I ain’t ready yet! I’m just out the shitter and lit this motherfucker less than a minute ago!”

Tread plainly looked confused.

I just shook my head.

“Gimme five, and I’ll be back inside. Gotta think, you know? Clear my head, away from you asswipes.”

“Well, alrighty Mudflap,” he smiled dopily. He paused for a moment before looking around suspiciously, then leaning forward to whisper: “I think the lady up front likes me.”

I glanced over his shoulder through the door as some local fuckers walked out. The pretty little blond hostess smiled after them, but looked bored as the door started closing.

Heh.

I could certainly think of a few things to liven up her night. Daresay that most of them involved my big cock buried in that pretty little ass of hers.

“Maybe she does like you, Tread!” I chuckled. “You want some of that pretty blond poontang?”

“Uh-huh!”

I slipped my arm ‘round his shoulder and took another quick drag. “Well, c’mere and I’ll tell you a big secret, pal.

“You go back in there, you offer to tell her a secret, and when she’s got that cute little ear real close… you tell her you want her to gag on your cock.”

“That… that don’t sound right, Mudflap…” Tread looked real confused, staring me down all suspicious-like.

“Nah, man, chicks dig it. But you’d better be quick. We’re leaving soon, yeah?”

“Well… okay then!”

I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw him stumble in, putting on his most dignified look, and whispering in her ear.

3… 2… 1…

WHAM!

“Stupid fucker!” I laughed, watching the door slip shut as the dumb bastard covered his cheek with a hand.

At least it was some entertainment.

Happy with the way that’d turned out, I took another drag of the stress stick between my lips. My eyes wandered to the nearest window, and I briefly peered in as I had a quick little think on things.

The rest of the Bayou Boys were finishing up their sloppy barbecue burgers and chicken wings at a ten-top table. It’d been a good fucking meal, but I’d always been a real snappy eater.

Right in the middle of the club sat the big guy himself – Gridlock, the heavyset Bayou Boys president.

The guy was nothing real special, but he commanded respect, and he knew how to whip up a disciplined operation. Ever since I was a junior high dropout, his Bayou Boys had been the real law in Lafayette.

Sure, the cops had their turn, and the university kind of meant it was mostly a college town, but when the Boys were back in town, shit got real.

I’d always looked up to ‘em, and getting to be one of them was a fucking dream come true. No more spinning tire irons at the shitty litt

le auto shop up the road from my trailer. Not anymore!

Well…

Okay, so I still did the mechanic thing.

And maybe Lafayette really listened to the cops after all.

But whatever.

I was in a fucking motorcycle club, man!

Of course, the crew wanted into the deal too. I was a smart guy, and Gridlock was a man who listened to reason, yeah? I laid it all out for him, and he saw things my way.

And now we were junior club interns!

Whatever the fuck that means.

Sounds real fancy, though.

Funny how things wound up kind of tied together, though. My woman getting all icy on me, giving me the cold shoulder. I thought we were happy together, but she’s gotta start yapping about drinking problem this and I’m not in the mood that…

Before I could make her see sense, this biker prick comes from out of town, thinking he owns the fucking place…? I gave him the old one-two and sent him packin’, but he didn’t get the fucking memo.

And then, the asshole gets the wild hair up his ass to kidnap my woman?

Naw, man.

Mudflap don’t roll that way.

But then, after I tried to convince the boss that we needed to go after ‘em, he was being a bitch of a stick-up-the-ass about it.

He got real salty for a minute. ‘Why the hell should I chase after your stupid bitch if she’s run the fuck away? Use a tighter leash next time!’

Knowing he kind of had a beef, I mentioned the whole Devil’s Dragons thing, and hoo boy, did Gridlock change his tune real fuckin’ fast.

After that, he was callin’ up friends out of town, putting out the word, and bringing down Heaven Almighty to get the scoop on where those fuckers went.

Whatever it took.

I just wanted my baby safe.

Safe and on her knees for me.

Turns out, the kidnapping sonuvabitch took his hostage on vacation down to good old New Orr-leeans. Friend running a bar in Metarie gave a positive ID on a biker with that patch and a hot babe, both sounding like our missing prey.

See, that confused the piss out of me, because I thought those assholes lived out in the desert. Guess I just walloped him a bit too good and knocked the sense of direction right the fuck out of him.