Roll Me Away: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel (3 page)

Re-joining wasn’t what I’d had in mind, but the way he asked let me know my answer would let him know how to proceed.

“I’d need to take something back to my crew, let them know what to expect. We’d take a vote. Not saying we wouldn’t look hard at re-joining, but what would that look like?” It was a fair question. If we had to start over as prospects, it wouldn’t be so good. My crew might still go for it, but I wanted them to know what they were in for.

“I notice you don’t have a patch with your club name,” he said. “Why is that?”

“We haven’t been able to agree on one. What does that have to do with anything?”

“If you were an organized club, we’d be able to patch you over, after you proved you were in for good this time. Since you aren’t, we may have to let you come in as prospects again, have you prove yourselves all over again.”

“Fuck that.”

“Then get your shit together. We ride for Sturgis tomorrow. We’ll wait at Carl’s shop for you to show up. Your colors will decide how we treat you. Meetin’s over.” He banged his gavel and turned to talk to Doc, ignoring me. I gave my dad a look, and he followed me outside.

“What the fuck was that, Dad?”

“No more than you deserved, son. Did you think you could just take up where you left off? You know it don’t work that way.”

“I thought you’d support me.”

“Who do you think got you this far? You betrayed a trust. If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t give you the time of day. Like Smokey said, get your shit together. I recommend you get some kind of patch on those cuts that identify you as a legitimate club. Know you ain’t got much time, but that’s the quickest way back in.”

I rode back to Rawlins slower than I’d come out. How was I gonna spin this to my crew?

I
wasn’t
sure why I’d been summoned to that meeting, but I wished I hadn’t been. From the sound of it, if those guys did patch back in, I wouldn’t be too popular with them.

It was just like everything else. You had to get along with the people in your circle, or you didn’t have one. From what I’d seen, that was doubly true in a motorcycle club, where there could be situations when your life literally depended on your brothers’ good will.

I already knew I’d be riding shotgun to Sturgis in the chase wagon with Doc driving. My job was to monitor his oxygen tanks while he kept track of the pack ahead. I planned to take the best care of that old man that anyone could. But while I did that one thing, I’d have to think about how to stay on Jake’s good side if his crew patched in. And how to stay alive if they had to come in as prospects with me ahead in seniority. That would be the worst outcome possible.

T
he next morning
, true to Smokey’s word, Rooster had the whole club stop at Carl’s place and wait for Jake and his brothers. One minute before the deadline, they rode in with blank faces. Every one of them sported a hand-drawn patch on the back of their cuts. If it hadn’t been the best thing I could have hoped for, it would have been laughable. Everyone pretended it was normal, but I wondered how they’d be received in Sturgis.

I’d always thought the Dust Devil moniker was tongue in cheek – a nod to our dry weather and the mini-tornadoes that sprung up and whirled dust and debris around for a few minutes. They kept to themselves – didn’t terrorize the nearby towns or roll into Rawlins looking for trouble. In other words, I’d never taken the Devil part seriously.

Apparently these dudes did. Their patches sported a painted red devil, horns and all, without the swirling representation of the dust storm that the parent club had on theirs. And the name, painted in a circle around it, was Just Devils. What a joke.

As soon as they rode up, Rooster revved his engine, the signal to head out. The club peeled away from Carl’s parking lot two by two, the Just Devils bringing up the rear of the columns, with our vehicle right behind. Other than lunch and pit stops, we’d ride non-stop to Sturgis, about five hours. We expected to be there just as the fun began on the first afternoon of the rally.

Two of the guys I’d met on my first night at the clubhouse had gone ahead to stake a claim on the motel where they always stayed. We’d have most of the rooms, and the clerks would be well prepared to leave us alone.

I’d been told that Sturgis was a prime event to pick up women to bring back to the club, and I’d finally learned the full name of the Bunnies the guys kept talking about. Dust Bunnies. Because if you were bad-ass enough, you’d find them in, around, and under your bed. I was looking forward to not having to wait for my turn for a change.

I’d gone through enough hazing in the last couple of days to let the brothers know I could take it. Sarge told me I’d have some tasks to do for the club at Sturgis, and they’d help me along in my quest to patch in as a full member.

So far, they hadn’t told me much except to keep my eyes open for likely women, and they’d told me they preferred them young-looking but legal, with big tits and nice asses. Well, that sounded good to me. If I could get one or two to follow us back to Wyoming, that would be all to the good. Whatever else they wanted me to do, I’d learn in good time. I was up for it.

Doc wasn’t much of a conversationalist. I didn’t mind, because I didn’t want to say anything that revealed how clueless I was about the world I’d entered. Of course, I’d heard things.

I knew the Dust Devils weren’t AMA certified, for example, which made them an outlaw club. Whether they were actual outlaws, I didn’t know. I didn’t know how they made their money, but I would in good time. I didn’t think they had any enemies, so I didn’t think I’d be called on to kill anyone. Not that it would matter if that happened.

I had enough anger in me, I didn’t think it would be a problem, especially if the someone needed killing. Like if they hurt a kid or something.

But I played it cool. I’d seen where swagger got Jake with the officers. Put down with barely an effort. No, thank you. I wanted respect, and to get it you had to give it. So I stayed quiet, did what I was told, and observed. That was the way to get along.

T
he second time
I checked the content gauge on Doc’s oxygen tank, I did a double-take. “Doc, are you okay? You breathing?”

He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Course I’m breathing. The fuck do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve used less than half the oxygen between Casper and here than you used between Rawlins and Casper. Why is that?”

“More oxygen in the air, moron,” he answered. He looked at me again and decided to explain more. “Lower elevation. I can get more oxygen down here. Even better in Sturgis. Probably won’t need the extra at all.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, I guess.”

Doc shook his head and kept driving. What the fuck did I know about air? Deciding I’d made enough of a fool of myself for this trip, I stayed quiet the rest of the way in. True to his word, Doc was hardly using any of the supplemental oxygen by the time we reached Sturgis.

When we pulled into town, I could have used some of it myself, though. I’d never seen so many people crowded together in my life. Rawlins is a small town, under ten thousand residents. I’d been told Sturgis was even smaller. But it looked like half the population of the US was crowding its streets this afternoon.

We pulled in behind the bikes, and we all waited while Rooster called the advance guys, who came out of their rooms and went in with him to the office. They came back with keys and room assignments for all of us.

Naturally, I was on the first floor, next to Doc’s room. He could’ve climbed the stairs, he grumbled, but they’d been thinking of his COPD. They put me in the room under Jake’s, and someone laughed about how little sleep I’d be getting. I didn’t care. With any luck, I’d be getting the same kind of action he would and wouldn’t be trying to sleep anyway.

“Okay, gang, gather round,” Rooster called. We huddled up right there in the parking lot. “You know why you’re here. You’ve got a few days, so let’s get some brews to get the party started. Pug, you take Zach under your wing and teach him the ropes. Jake, you’re responsible for your crew and Zach. We’ll scope out the marks. Meet back here at nineteen hundred hours and we’ll get some grub together. Got it?”

There was some muttering from the direction of Jake and his guys, but no one objected out loud. I moved over toward them, only to be met by Jake’s outstretched arm.

“Hold it right there, hotshot,” he said. “We need to get something straight. You ain’t one of us. You keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. Don’t give my boy any bullshit, and we’ll get along okay.”

“Okay, Jake,” I returned. I kept my voice mild. One day, there’d have to be some words between us, but this wasn’t the time or the place. I’d earn my patch, and then we’d see about mutual respect.

I
knew
why my dad had saddled us with the prospect, but it didn’t make me happy. The kid probably didn’t know a damn thing about Sturgis or why we were here. It was up to us to break him in. I pulled Pug aside. “Ignore him for now. Let him figure it out on his own.”

“You got it, man.”

We started down the street on foot, since the prospect didn’t have a ride and we were only going about a block anyway. The better to spot the babes, too. Gears and Hoss walked next to me, with Pug, Snail, and Prospect bringing up the rear.

Walking three abreast and not stepping aside for anyone, we soon attracted some attention. Civilians muttered and got out of our way. Girls turned to look at us pass. We were the kings of the goddamn street, and everyone knew it. Felt good.

We got to Downshift, the bar where we hung out every year, just about the same time the rest of the club were parking their bikes. There’d be some jostling for position if other small outlaw clubs were there, but when my crew and I walked in, they’d dive out with no more protest. We didn’t try to horn in on the bigger clubs’ hangouts, not looking to make enemies we didn’t need. Regular clubs, ‘social clubs’ they called themselves, kept to their own bars, too.

There wasn’t usually any rival club trouble at Sturgis. It was neutral territory, as long as everyone kept their cool and respected other clubs. Downshift wasn’t really big enough for more than us and some women, anyway.

We pushed our way in and grabbed beers, then headed outside to watch the world go by. The sidewalks and even the street itself teemed with all kinds of people, from civilians to members of Hell’s Angels, self-appointed to make sure no trouble went down.

By and large, beefs between the well-known outlaw clubs were set aside for the rally, but now and then a club trying to make a name for itself would start something. Usually, the Angels would put it down quickly, before it got out of hand.

Eventually, we attracted some chicks. It never failed. Put enough of us together in a group, and we’d draw a crowd. I didn’t usually think about my looks, but I had plenty of evidence that women liked them. Before long, we had a crowd of women, a few teenage boys, and some jail-bait girls hanging around watching our every move.

Some of the ladies were even bold enough to go in and get a beer, and then come out and chat us up. Now it was time to cut the better looking women out of the herd and see if any of them were ready for some fun.

I had my eye on a girl-next-door type who’d made an effort to break the mold. She had on a tank-top with Wild Thing printed across the boobs, barely visible through the gap in her sleeveless black leather vest.

The funny thing was, she didn’t look all that wild. Her brown hair was piled up in a messy bun, and she had creamy skin that hadn’t seen much sun yet, even though summer was almost over. I’d seen her flash a mouthful of straight white teeth at one of the guys who let out a wolf whistle, and her blue eyes were clear of any hint of drug use.

This was a civilian chick, for certain, but maybe one that wanted a good time at the hands of a brother. I was just the one to provide it for her, too, in spite of noticing the prospect admiring her assets too.

I was about to grab her when someone on the sidewalk yelled, “Pug!” and she whirled around to look. She started toward the voice, only to crash into Pug himself, who’d turned his head over his shoulder and was also looking for the one who’d yelled at him. Her beer sloshed all over his cut, and he balled his fists.
Uh-oh
. I headed toward them.

“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry!” she gushed. “Here, let me get something to clean that up!” She whirled around and ran into me, right behind her.

“Oh! Oh my god, it’s, uh…” Her eyes went wide as soon as she saw me. Pug relaxed his hands and looked from her to me. He swiped his hand down his cut, wiping the beer off.

“Pug!” The voice from the sidewalk.

“What the fuck?” he asked, just as the girl whirled around again.

“Egghead,” she yelled. “What do you want? You made me spill…” Pug and I both looked at her in confusion. Egghead?

Noticing the way we were looking at her, she pointed to the sidewalk at a teenager. “Egghead. My brother,” just as he yelled, “Mom and Dad want to know if you’re coming for dinner. It’s after eight. You’re late. Hey, you look bad-ass!”

Pug looked at me, and I looked at her. “Your name is Pug?”

“Uh, no, he calls me Bug. My name is Cricket. I know who you are. Jack Malone, right?” To her brother, she yelled, “Tell them I’m not coming. I’ll get something on my own. Go away.” She turned back to me.

Pug was now staring at her in open-mouthed astonishment. What would a girl like her know about my stage name? I sent him a ‘get lost’ look, and he turned around and melted into the crowd.

“Cricket. Cute. What would a little girl like you know about Jack Malone?” I grinned. If she’d seen me in action…

Now she was blushing, the tell-tale pink creeping up from her low-cut tank to the roots of her hair. “I, uh…”

I reached for her and trailed my finger down her chin, along her neck and down to the cleavage peeking out of the tank. “I like this pink color. How did you say you knew me?”

The color deepened, and interestingly, twin points bloomed under the tank. No bra. Perky tits just right for a handful were now visible to me, standing close to her. I couldn’t wait for her answer.

My dick hardened when she took a deep breath, looked me full in the eye, and said, “I’ve seen your videos.”

Well, well
. If she’d seen my videos, then she had the advantage of me. She knew more about my body than I knew about hers, but it was looking good for me to even the score. I moved in even closer.

“You have, have you? Interested in a command performance?”

She sucked her breath in, and the color returned, racing up her chest. I slid my hand into her vest, brushing my thumb against her hard little nipple as I passed by, and curled my fingers around her side. Pulling her into my chest, I dipped my head to meet her lips as she tilted hers back to give me access to them. She swayed against my groin and moaned.