Hidden Secrets (Satan's Prophets MC)
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Authors: Jacqui Leigh Jones
Hidden Secrets
© 2015 Jacqui Leigh Jones
All Rights Reserved
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The characters, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity or resemblance to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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March 1990
Jasmine sighed. Her parents would have just loved this day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun was shining down brightly upon the neatly trimmed, green grass. Birds could be heard chirping, happily calling out love songs to their mates. The gentle breeze caressed her skin with its warm tentacles, but nothing would warm her—not on this day. Her parents always told her to embrace the joys of Mother Earth, to let herself feel all the beauty surrounding her. Today all she felt was ice water running through her veins and a numbness, deep into her very soul.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jasmine could hear the steady droning of voices, murmuring words that were meant for comfort, but meaning so little to her.
Comfort
…there were no words that could offer her comfort. No gestures of peace that could enfold Jasmine today. She looked at the somber faces, of the people circled around the gravesite who had come to say their final goodbyes. She then looked down at the two flower-covered caskets—placed side by side, waiting to be lowered into the dark, damp earth. Two lives, tragically lost to her forever.
Jasmine couldn’t believe her parents were gone. Maybe this was all a dream and she wasn’t really standing here.
Wake up, Jasmine! Wake up!
Her mind was screaming.
Please, let this be just a bad dream!
She watched in somewhat of a daze, one figure blurring into another as they walked past and gently placed a white carnation on top of each casket. Jasmine wanted to rip those flowers away.
That wasn’t right. Those flowers were so wrong!
Jasmine felt a gentle tug upon her arm and looked up into his face. Mick—her rock of strength throughout this terrible nightmare. Mick, who stayed by her side since the day she learned of her parents deaths—even making the funeral arrangements when she was so devastated with grief.
He handed her two long branches filled with clusters of yellow flowers. Jasmine inhaled their sweet fragrance deeply as she smiled her gratitude to him. Somehow, Mick always knew just what she needed. Her mother’s favorite flower was Jasmine and she was named after that flower. Her mom always told her that she was as precious and sweet like a Jasmine flower.
Silently, she walked toward the caskets; Jasmine’s feet felt leaden, slowing her every step. She solemnly placed a clustered branch on top of each one. She stood there with tears streaming down her face, all alone now. The other mourners had left, allowing her to say her goodbyes in private. As Jasmine laid the palms of her hands on each coffin, the pain in her heart became unbearable and she started screaming—screaming at her father for riding his motorcycle that night, screaming at her mother for leaving her. She wobbled, feeling faint. Suddenly, she was lifted up into two strong arms, right before her world went black.
Five months later
Jasmine stood in the middle of her dormitory apartment looking around, disgusted with herself. Why did it always end like this? Empty beer cans and wine bottles were scattered throughout the room. It was just supposed to be a few friends getting together to study. Her intentions always started out so good, but never ended up that way. She really did want to study. Hell, she really needed to study.
Jaz (as her friends liked to call her) was on academic probation this last quarter of the school year. She’d promised herself that she would try very hard to get her grades up. Was it her fault most of her friends were party animals? She’d just invited a few of them over to study, but friends came with friends. Some brought booze, others brought pot. No matter how many times she stressed that weed wasn’t allowed, it seemed that someone would always sneak it in. The next thing she knew, everyone was either smashed or high. Smoking joints wasn’t her thing, but booze certainly was. Beer, wine—she drank whatever she could get her hands on…or on this particular night, whatever was available.
Jasmine was tired of turning down the volume of the stereo. Why bother? Someone would just turn it up again. By this point—after having downed a few more beers—she didn’t much care. She
did
get tired of the steady beat of the Poison song that was playing. ‘Nothin’ But a Good Time’ seemed to be her friends’ favorite party song. She guessed they liked it because the lyrics reinforced their crazy, partying ways. Now everyone was singing loudly along with the song.
All of a sudden, her apartment door flew open. The lookout they had posted at the end of the hall came flying in, yelling for everyone to clear out because the campus patrol were on their way. Jaz’s room was on the ground level of the four story high apartment complex so her friends opened up the two large windows and started jumping out. Unfortunately for Jaz, it was her apartment and she knew she was in big trouble this time.
“Kicked out! You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Shaking his head
no,
the Dean of the Marion Business College smiled sadly. “Look Miss Butler, if it was just about your grades I’d do all I could to help you stay on academic probation longer—but unfortunately, it’s your lifestyle. You really crossed the line this time. We don’t tolerate partying late at night in the student apartments. There was music blasting, students drinking alcohol and a smell of pot smoking. I’m really sorry, but you’ll have to leave this college immediately.”
“Please, Dean Johnson—just give me one more chance!” Jaz pleaded with tears in her eyes. “I messed up, but I know I can behave more responsibly from now on.”
“You don’t know how sorry I am, Miss Butler. Truly I am, but the decision is out of my hands. This time you went too far. The college board of directors’ votes was unanimous. There is nothing I can do.”
With a heavy heart, Dean Johnson watched Jasmine walk away thinking how much she had changed since her parent’s unfortunate deaths. The quiet, shy girl was gone and a rebellious spirit had taken over.
Walking back slowly to her student housing room with tears in her eyes, Jaz wondered what she would do now. She knew she screwed up big this time. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she smarten up and get her life back on track to the sensible girl she used to be?
Her parents were both dead. They were killed in a freak motorcycle accident five months ago, when she was twenty-one. They were on their way home from a Kiss concert held at the Beacon Theatre in New York City. Being as it was an unusually warm March, her dad insisted on them riding his motorcycle to the concert. According to the police report, it happened around one-thirty in the morning. The report said they were likely side swiped off the road and went down an embankment. They died at the scene. The last time Jasmine checked with the police, they still never caught the person responsible. This made her really angry every time she thought about it. It sucked that no one was made to pay for her parents’ deaths.
Her parents hadn’t been the typical normal type of parents like most of her friends had. They rode motorcycles, snubbed their noses at convention, lived wild and free and loved her unconditionally. Her dad owned Nick’s Tattoo Shop and did a fantastic business tattooing most of the area’s bikers. He was famous for his intricate, clean, crisp tattoo lines.
Her mother was a talented artist who specialized in flash art drawings. In fact, most of the pictures that hung in her father’s shop were drawn by her mother. People raved over the unique designs her mother would sketch, but she also did the skulls, dragons, tribal, and other designs that were popular with the bikers.
Jasmine would usually walk to her dad’s shop after school and hang out. While she was doing her homework—or just chillin’ to music on her boom box—she enjoyed listening to the customers talk. Most of them were respectful of Jaz being there and tried to watch their language. From some of the things they said, Jaz learned quite a bit about the biker lifestyle. Most of the guys and girls that came in to get tattooed belonged to small clubs that rode just for fun. At times, they would do a run for one charity or another to raise money. Sometimes, the topic came up about the one percent motorcycle clubs. The outlaw clubs seemed to be most popular with the guys who returned from Viet-Nam and couldn’t seem to find their place in civilian life. They didn’t like to follow society’s rules. Whenever they came in to get a tattoo, Jaz’s dad would make her leave.
Jaz loved seeing beautiful artwork being transformed into a tattoo. In fact, her favorite tattoo was the one her mom designed for her when she turned sixteen. When most teenage girls celebrated their sixteenth birthday with ‘sweet sixteen’ parties, Jaz and her parents celebrated hers by letting her get a tattoo. Three colorful wildflowers were intertwined on her shoulder blade with each parent’s favorite color and hers. Lavender, blue and pink. Her mom said this was to connect them together always, if not physically then spiritually.
Being an only child sucked right now. Jasmine always wished she had a sister, someone to confide in or in times like this, to ask for help. Well, no sense crying over it—that was her motto. She’d just move on to the next crazy phase of her life, she figured.
Jasmine finished packing up all her belongings into a few cardboard boxes from the local grocery store and piled them into the back seat and trunk of her older model, Chevy Nova.
Back in her room, Jasmine looked around one last time and broke out in tears. She started thinking of how hard she had really tried to study, but her heart just wasn’t in it. Wiping her eyes, Jasmine grabbed her old floppy hat, beaded purse and walked out, silently closing the door behind her.
As she headed down the narrow hallway, she saw her friend Lori running towards her. Lori had been one of the few girls at school that she really connected with. They liked the same style of clothing, the same kind of music and they both liked to party.
“Oh, Jaz,” her friend cried out, “I was looking for you. I just heard. It’s all over the college already. What will you do now?” She asked with her forehead wrinkled in consternation.
“Really, I have no clue. I suppose I’ll have to find a job or find someone to help me out. The only relative I have left is my Aunt Olivia—my mom’s sister who lives over in Ridge Creek. Remember I told you about her? My wacky aunt who thinks she is the real Olivia Walton from that TV show just because she lives at the foot of a mountain. She even named her two dogs John-Boy and Jim-Bob and her cat, Ben.”
Lori was laughing so hard that she could hardly speak. “Wow, don’t know if I could handle that crap.”
“Well, she’s all I have left on my mom’s side.” Jaz said sadly. “I suppose I could ask Mick for help. He was my dad’s apprentice and always looked after me, kind of like a big brother. After all, anyone who could sit with me and listen to me blab on and on and never complain must have liked me, right?” Jasmine mused. “At least he never got kicked out of the tattoo shop, like I did.” Both girls were laughing now. “I guess I shouldn’t be jealous of that, after all—he’s the one who talked me into going to college and he even paid for it when my parents couldn’t. Said I needed to get out into the world, away from the small town bullshit. But how can I face him now? He’ll be so disappointed in me.”
“What about on your dad’s side of the family?”
“Not sure about my dad’s side…he was never close to his family. I
did
hear him talking about some cousins he had down in Jersey once, but I think they kind of disowned him when he hooked up with my mom, being as she had a five year old kid—me. Now that I think of it,” Jaz said frowning, “I wonder if that’s why they never got married? Although, my mom always said that she didn’t need a metal band on her finger to prove their commitment to each other.”
“You know, I just thought of something. My boyfriend, Danny, bartends in that new bar over in Fulton. I bet he could get you a job there, like…I dunno—maybe waitressing or something. Want me to give him a call for you?”
“Cool Lori,” Jaz smiled. “That’d be great, something to hold me over until I figure things out.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Lori returned ten minutes later, excitedly waving a paper around in her hand.
“Danny wants to meet with you at the bar as soon as you can get there. I wrote down the directions.”
“Thanks, Lori!” Jaz replied, while giving her a hug. “You’re the best. Let’s make sure we don’t lose touch, okay?”
“Sure thing. If you’re working there, I’ll definitely stop in.”
“Great,” Jaz replied. “Well, I guess I’m on my way. Love you, girl—wish me luck.”
“Luck, Jaz!”
Throwing her hat onto the back seat of her car, Jasmine drove out of the school’s parking lot. Figuring some music might help cheer her up, she turned on the car radio. Bon Jovi’s song, ‘Bad Medicine’ was playing. Quickly changing the station until she found
anything
else, she settled for Journey’s, ‘Don’t Stop Believin’. She was smiling now, thinking that’s just what she needed—some encouragement in her life.
