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I stayed in the clubhouse with the other hang-arounds and the old ladies, including the prospect Miguel. The patched members filed out to the gated yard and further on into one of the garages where they repaired bikes.
I asked Grannie, "They hold church in that greasy shop back there?"
"Club meeting. They don't really sing hymns." She laughed with a slight wheeze, but nowhere as severe as her husband Gunner's.
Donna and Kristy were talking about something, probably girl stuff. But Donna was more like Dragon than Kristy. While I could picture Dragon and Donna riding together as members, I could never see Kristy being the patched type. Too vulnerable. Too frail. Like Angela. Not as bad as Angela, but more like her than a biker.
Miguel came out from the kitchen. "This prospect stuff is bullshit."
Smoke laughed at him. "Stick it out, if you wanna be a patched member."
He blew out a breath. "I'm done with that back there, anyway."
She muttered, "That was fast."
~ ~ ~
The club meeting was two hours long.
Grannie and Smoke seemed to think that was fast.
The bikers filed in, somber looks on their faces. A bunch of them surrounded Miguel. Sonar said, "Well done, Demon Rider."
Miguel chuckled. "The kitchen?"
Dealer patted him on the back and shoved a vest into his hands. "No, for making the cut."
Miguel's eyes lit up. He unfolded the colors Dealer had handed him. The nickname Demon Rider was over the left breast. "No more cleaning kitchens?"
The bikers laughed.
They shared drinks after that and then left Demon Rider to revel on his own as a fully patched member. I was near the bar with him as he was talking to Smoke.
"I'll see you tomorrow." He grabbed his helmet and stalked out.
I set my empty glass on the counter. I was staring after Miguel. "I'll be back in a bit."
"Sure thing, Jimmy."
I really, really hated that name. Made me want to go by Butch or Brutus. Anything but Jimmy. What was I? Some little kid in rags wearing his hat backwards? I got on my bike.
Miguel was already down the street and turning.
I started up and pulled out, slowly accelerating. My bike was relatively quiet compared to the others – unless I revved to demonstrate. Some in the club believed loud bikes saved lives – the people in cages could hear them coming, or riding along in their blind spot. It made sense, but the noise level to achieve that bordered on abusive.
I turned on C Street and saw Miguel turning left ahead. My heart started to beat faster. He was ahead of me but if I was fast, I could close the distance. I assumed he was going for the motel. On that assumption, I flew past C Street, going forty-five in a twenty-five. I ran the next light in a full on run against a red light. I hoped none of the three police on duty were parked nearby.
I flew up to A Street, my windbreaker whipping around me. It did nothing to stop the wind and left me chilled. But I was hyped from wondering if Miguel was going to that same motel. Why didn't I mention that to Sonar? Duh. But I couldn't text him now – not with Demon Rider being patched. Not unless I was totally sure of something.
I roared up A and coasted into the parking lot at the realtor's office. I killed the light and engine. A cop was parked, giving a ticket to some knob in an SUV. Miguel - Demon Rider - was passing him. He turned on A and entered the motel parking lot.
I pulled out my phone and captured a vid of him getting off his bike. There was no white four-door sedan there, but there was a white full-sized van. He knocked on the back door of it and it opened. He climbed in.
That's weird. Who knocks on a van door? Why not the motel room? Who sits in a van? The van had no windows except at the front. I waited. And waited some more. I began to wonder if Miguel had exited a side door on the other side when the back door opened.
He hopped out, patting his vest on the left side.
Why would he pat his vest? Envelope of money? Something else? He rode off.
I started my bike, then saw three men leaving the van and heading to the room Ace had knocked at earlier. This is rotten, for sure.
~ ~ ~
I worked my shift the next day after a particularly frantic fuck with my wife. The image of her senseless and getting bone-hammered by Viking was one I'd never forget.
I was standing outside the Daily Dollar with Twenty when two Harley's roared up. I recognized Slicer and Meatgrinder, right away. I tensed, not knowing what Twenty would do. I glanced at him, but he ignored me. He watched the two SOA members dismount.
Slicer nodded at me.
Meatgrinder mock-slugged my arm. "Hey there, Jim." At least he called me by my name. They walked into the bar.
Twenty pushed off the wall and followed them in. He was right on their asses.
I followed, wondering what was going to blow up. Twenty was the Iron Crow's Sergeant at Arms. He was the mean motherfucker who had manhandled me when I was chained and captive. Nice as all shit now, he had been all business when he had thought me a federal agent.
Twenty wedged himself in between the two SOA bikers at the bar. He had to pry his way between and he did it as if he owned both them and the bar. He said, "When things go down, where is honor?"
They didn't understand that. Neither did I.
Twenty said, "Some guys like the club. The camaraderie. The freedom. Others like fucking things up. I wonder what column you two fit in?"
Meatgrinder stiffened. "Are you saying we have no honor?"
Twenty muttered, "I'm asking."
"We're the new force in town and we aren't backing down."
Twenty straightened. "Going to beat people and push drugs?"
Slicer said, "We didn't sign on for that."
"And what did you sign on for?"
"Being in a motorcycle club. Being part of something with the brotherhood."
Twenty smirked. "How long did it take you to earn that patch?"
Slicer looked confused. "I earned it when we formed the club."
"Did you, now?"
Slicer nodded.
Twenty said, "Are you sure of all your... brothers?"
"What do you mean?"
I moved to the side and leaned against the bar.
Twenty said, "Are you certain that each of your brothers would be at your side even if you're outnumbered ten to one?"
Neither answered.
The Iron Crows sergeant at arms straightened and backed away. "Our club fights drug dealers, gang members... and government agencies trying to establish drug rings. Remember that when things go down. Enjoy your drinks."
I watched him walk out. So did Celia and the two SOA bikers.
Meatgrinder leaned over towards me, fast. "We were told the Iron Crows were dealers for the Outlaws."
I shook my head. "Nope." I told him the truth. "I took a knife helping one of the Iron Crows stop some Surenos from scouting around."
"Surenos?"
"Mexican gang trying to expand territory up here. They wear blue. Lots of blue."
Slicer nodded. "We saw a few of them some days back."
I pulled up the leg of my jeans. "There's my scar. Was twelve stitches."
Meatgrinder goggled. "How many were there?"
"Four."
"And just you and one Iron Crow?" He sounded disbelieving.
Something in me went hard and I stopped leaning, standing to my full height. But my chin was down and so were my eyebrows. "I wouldn't fucking lie about such a thing. It happened right out front."
He held up a hand. "No disrespect."
It struck me then how different the SOA bikers were to the Iron Crows. The IC members didn't give a shit if they offended someone who wasn't a member. Who wasn't patched. These SOA bikers did. There was a boatload of difference between the two.
Slicer said, "What did he mean saying when things go down?"
I honestly didn't know. Was it something to do with the meeting they had? "I don't know."
~ ~ ~
I mumbled to Kristy at three in the morning. "I feel like something's going down but I'm clueless."
She snuggled her face into my chest. Her arm rested across my belly, lower than it had a few months ago; I was losing weight. "You felt left out of the meeting?"
"Church? Yeah, I guess. I wonder what they do in there? Is it some massive bloodletting and sacrificing goats or something?"
She giggled. "Grannie said they talk club business. Read minutes, go over business."
"Sounds dull."
She nodded. "Yep, that's what she said Gunner has said about it."
"Twenty seemed to imply things were going to happen."
She shrugged again. "They meet, they make a decision. Something happens."
I chuckled at her simplicity, wondering why I didn't have the same view.
"Are you laughing at me?"
"No, just wondering why I'm obsessing over it all."
I had a feeling things were happening. The problem was, I didn't know how fast they were going to happen.