Hard Rider

And sure enough, thirty minutes later, Blade was sittin’ on my brand new sofa, drinkin’ the coffee Bex made for us. She’d woken up alright, and angel that she is, she accepted everything I told her without question. I didn’t want to tell her too much, but she needed to know enough to stay safe. No matter what happened, I was going to keep her safe.

“You get Hunter?” I asked, drinking my own coffee, needing it fiercely. Blade grimaced.

“No,” he said. “And that don’t make me feel good.”

It didn’t make me feel good, either. It was one thing for the older guys to miss a call or two on their cell phones, but I knew that a kid Hunter’s age would keep his phone glued to his damn hip. I hoped he was just dead to the world with a Bukowski-sized hangover.

Fleet showed up first, and then they all started trickling in, the old guard, looking cranky. Fleet and Mack, Porky and Slider, Jonesy and my old man. I was surprised to see Eagle and Boon at my door, both of them being my age and cocky as fuck, sure candidates for Dutch’s side. Damn, I hated that we were reduced to that: sides. Dutch’s side, and our side. A club should never be divided like that, brother against brother. It hurt just trying to understand what it meant for the future.

By the time we decided to get started, my living room was full up and I’d run out of coffee mugs. Bex dutifully disappeared into the bedroom, knowing she couldn’t be privy to club talk, even with the club torn asunder the way it was, not even resembling a club at all. I’d say fifteen men showed up, about half the club, all of ‘em lookin’ grim.

“Dutch has officially fucked us,” Grinder said, cutting straight to the chase before Blade or I could present our case. “You boys are our officers, and we’ll follow you, but I feel I got the right to say this. That fool Dutch fucked us seven ways from Sunday, and we’re gonna die, one by one, unless we do somethin’ about it.”

“Well said,” Blade offered, deferring to Grinder’s years of experience. “I’d say that about sums it up.”

“What’s his angle? Why the fuck didn’t we hear about this bullshit from Dutch, instead of gettin’ caught this way, with our pants around our ankles?” Mack growled, his hands clenching and unclenching in his anger; considering his arthritis, that said a great deal about his anger.

“He’s got himself thinkin’ we can push the Blackhawks out,” Eagle said. “He thinks we should take over their territory. And I reckon he didn’t think any of you old boys would go for such an idea, and might even sway us young’ns against him. No offense.”

“None taken,” Fleet said. “But how is it that you know all that, Eagle? He come to you, too?”

Eagle blanched, stole a glance at Boon.

“Yup,” he finally said. “We heard it by word of mouth from Soldier, but basically, yup. We were meant to be joinin’ him on his fool’s crusade. Can’t speak for Boon here, but I like drinkin’, smokin’, and fuckin’ way too much to put my life on the line for greed.”

As though to punctuate this, Eagle lit a cigarette, Boon nodding at his side.

“Smart boys,” Grinder said. “At least we got two of ya.”

“So what next? I ain’t gonna be waitin’ around Cutter to see what the Blackhawks do for revenge,” Fleet offered, and all eyes turned to Blade and I at the front of the room.

“Well…”

“I know where we can go,” Mack suddenly offered. “For the time bein’, if we want a safe house. Got a cabin out near the zinc mine, ain’t fallen into the ground yet, and I don’t reckon anyone knows about it.”

“Fuckin’ A, Mack,” Blade said. “That’s perfect. You sure Dutch doesn’t know ‘bout it?”

“I ain’t sayin’ I’m sure of shit, considerin’ how sure I was that no one would be dumb enough to break the truce, but I don’t see how he could know,” Mack said with a shrug. “At any rate, it’s a good place to lay low, if that’s what we’re fixin’ to do.”

“I ain’t layin’ low,” Grinder suddenly said. “I’m goin’ straight to Lip, and tellin’ him we’re at his disposal.”

Lip. The Blackhawk’s President. Grinder glanced in my direction.

“That is, if you don’t try to stop me,” he said.

“I won’t,” I nodded. “I’ll be right at your side.”

“That makes three of us,” Blade said.

“You suggestin’ that we offer to fight against our own men?” Porky protested, his voice rough from years of smokin’ and hollerin’. “’Cause that just don’t seem right.”

“They ain’t our own men anymore,” Fleet argued. “The minute Dutch went ahead and drew first blood, without tellin’ those of us who been riding for him for years, who been keepin’ that truce before he ever wore a patch…well, that’s the minute he broke this club in half. Those who followed him ain’t my brothers no more.”

Silence fell upon the room as Fleet’s word rang through our minds, tellin’ a truth no one wanted to acknowledge. But he was right, and the slow nods of the gathered men told me that everyone knew it, even Porky.

“We’ll put it to a vote,” Blade said. “All in favor of offering our aid to the Blackhawks, until we can drive Dutch out of town and get our club back to rights?”

The room resonated with ayes.

“All opposed?”

Silence.

And in that way, the matter was decided.

Bex

The bedroom door was barely shut before I was on him.

“You’re not going,” I hissed. “Let them go. You don’t need to be there. I’m not going to let you…”

“You were listening?” Cross’ eyes flashed, his mouth a sneer, arms crossed over his chest. I knew I was treading on a lot of toes here. Even old ladies were strictly barred from club business, and I didn’t even have that distinction yet. Besides that, no man – especially a bike-riding man like Cross – wants his woman telling him what he can and can’t do.

But letting my man ride straight into the arms of those who’d kill him? I wasn’t too keen on that, either. The way I saw it, he was doing me wrong just as much as I was doing him wrong.

“It’s not exactly a big apartment,” I spat. “And these walls ain’t sound proof.”

His eyes stayed narrow, his shoulders high with tension.

“And what makes you think you can convince me not to do what my duty says I must? I love you, but I’m a Crusader through and through.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be,” I cried. “Maybe you should make being my man your priority!”

I knew I was sounding crazy. But shit, I felt crazy. Cross wasn’t just thinking about a suicide mission, he was fixing on leading it! And I was just supposed to sit around and wait and hope that he made it back in one piece? Fuck no. I crossed the room to stand before him, meeting all the venom in his eyes with all the fever in mine.

“Don’t you make me choose, woman,” he grit out. “Don’t you dare make me choose.”

“I’m not the one who’s making you choose, Cross,” I said. “The club is. You ride with them, or you ride with me. I could sit by and watch you beat men half to death in the club’s name, but I’m not gonna be waiting here for you if you go traipsing off into Blackhawks territory.”

“Oh, you’re not? And where are you gonna go, Bex? You gonna go home to Arkansas? You gonna hitch a ride across the states?”

He was calling my bluff, and I knew it.

“I still got money,” I spat. “Half the money Dutch promised. I’ll be out of here and heading towards Mexico before you can even turn that Vincent ‘round the corner.”

We stood, face-to-face and eye-to-eye, for a long, full minute, both with our chests heaving and our nostrils flaring. Like prize fighters in a ring.

And then something awful happened.

Cross gave up.

I watched his shoulders slump, his head starting to shake back and forth, slow and sad.

“I can’t stop you, Bex,” he said. “And you can’t stop me. So I guess that leaves us in no kind of

shape to be fightin’. If you can’t stand the waitin’, if you’re fixed on leavin’, you better do it now.”