“Nah, we’re set, the girls know what to bring, they just like to bring emergency stuff, like extra underwear, and jeans.” I nod. I never take much, Grandpa taught me, to minimize. We had been on a few bike trips together when I was younger, before grandma died; we had some after, but they were less often.
I miss my Grandparents very much.
After we ate and showered, we headed to the kitchen to return the tray. Tank followed me to my workshop and checked the place out, making sure everything was how I left it, although the place was still firmly locked up, Tank, being Tank, did the double check before letting me inside. I thought it was cute that he was doing that, and didn’t pressure him to give up. The little bit that might make him feel he was protecting me, he knows I can defend myself, and being a large, strong man, he needs to feel he was looking after his woman, the best way he can.
I get it, I really do. I have had Sticks talk about the bike life for years as I apprenticed at the shop. She would sometimes show up at lunchtime and bring food, which was always tasty. She would sit and talk, nothing too personal. I felt it gave her a break from all those men around her, and she could be herself for a little while before going back to being the Prez’s lady. We all need a break from our everyday life occasionally, and that was hers. I wonder what she will do now, since I am here and not at the bike shop.
“Back in a few, need to catch up with Prez on what went down last night, and find out our next plan. We have that gang showing up today sometime, and need to get some lookouts set up.” Tank kissed me on the head and left.
I got to work on the petrol tank, adding more color; it was starting to look good and was beginning to gain the three-D effect I was chasing. Moved to the side covers, added the design, then left it to dry-a good day before I add more.
I returned to the bike, removed the front and rear guards, cleaned them, and prepared them for the base coat.
I had just finished adding the base coat when Tank arrived.
“Time for dinner, little lady. Wow, this is looking great.” The tank was looking at the petrol tank. I had started shading it, and I have to agree that it was turning out the way I wanted it to look. Grandpa was my muse, pushing me harder and working on what he called natural talent. Grandpa thought I would make a great tattooist, with my paint skills, but I didn’t want to work on skin.
Wow, I didn’t realise till now how much my Grandparents saved me.
Thinking about all the things I did with them, and how they sculptured my life, I wonder what they would think of me now.
Would they be proud of where I am now and how I have turned out so far?
Grandpa had friends in the bike club years ago.
I wonder if they are still around. It’s too soon for me to go asking. I feel I am still being watched and tested to see if I am worthy to be in the club, even though I am already doing so much
What do I need to do to prove myself?
Sticks said I was already family, they speak to me like I am family, and involve me, which was all new to mey only my few girlfriends ever made me feel part of something, yet even with them saying and acting like I am family.
I still think and feel that I am under the microscope,
Was this my own doubts and insecurities setting in?
Will I ever trust again?
Maybe I am too broken to fix completely?
Tank POV
We sat in the meeting room, too many for us to use the Prez’s office, and Sticks handed out coffee and muffins. Yeah, bikers don’t mind coffee and cake. Well, ours do. Not all of us wake up and head for the bottle first thing. I don’t drink as much as some might believe, not because I don’t like drinking, but the last time I got drunk, I hurt someone badly, and I don’t want to do that again.
“Word is, about ten Jones boys are on the road, headed this way. The gas station called, warning us. Pixie says tomorrow. Guess she either lied or they’re coming early. That being said, we have some of ours posted and ready. When they arrive, we will tail them openly, let them know we know they are here, and follow them around. No contact unless they approach us, then I want to hear about it, the moment they do.” Prez was in a mood; I don’t think he got much sleep last night, as we are all coping with his agro.
“Slug, did the boys say anything useful?” The guys they dragged outside had foul mouths on them; it was hard to get anything out of them except obscenities. They were still high on whatever they injected into their arms-making them fearless and dumb.
“Nah, got drugged up, they don’t know nothin, all Pixie was doing, they went for the laughs,” Slug replied, which was about what we expected; they would follow if they put up with someone like Pixie.
“Dumb broad, brought us noffin but trouble since she came, should have got rid of ages ago.” Stonner hated Pixie right from the first day; he wouldn’t let her near him, ever. He was one of the few who had given her a backhander for taking things too far, and, to his credit, he was a little drunk. Still, that girl never knew when to give up and had paid the price. She cried and bytched and complained for weeks, but Stonner wasn’t going to give her the time of day.
I have to agree with him that that girl smelled like trouble, and now we have some on our doorstep.
“Look on the bright side. If she hadn’t been her silly self, testing the club members as she often does, and if her only cost had been her shiner, we wouldn’t have gotten information that trouble was coming and why. We are ahead.” I tried to put a positive spin on this whole Pixie deal.
“You’re right, bro, she did, or at least the other guys with her gave us good info; they didn’t know about the shop situation, but knew something about the Jones gang, being the ones that Pixie was attached to.” Slug slurred; it appeared he was already drunk, and it was only halfway through the day. I would hate to have his kidneys.
We talked about the Jones gang on their way here, and what the plans were, nothing we haven’t dealt with before. We pride ourselves on keeping our town safe. It helps to own almost half, if not more than half, of the town. The mayor, one of our older club members, who doesn’t get involved in club affairs as much as he did in his younger days, we have a lot like that, who are in retirement of sorts.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.