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“MATT, THIS IS A NICE car. Very nice.” Saks leaned into the leather seats of the lawyer’s black Lincoln Continental.
“Thanks,” Matt said, settling behind the wheel. “You’re paying for it.”
“Say what?”
Matt laughed. “No, bro. Sorry. That was a bad joke. I’m a trust fund baby. I get a new one each year.”
“Must be nice.”
“It helps with the illusion that I’m a successful lawyer.”
“Instead, you get jokers like me.”
“To be honest, if Luke hadn’t call me I wouldn’t have taken your case. I don’t do traffic cases. But for Luke, yeah. I’ll do it. Helps my reputation at the courthouse as a gang lord lawyer.”
“You like to live dangerously.”
“No. I like to, well, that’s another discussion. So, tell me, what the hell happened at the traffic stop?”
Saks gave him all the details, from his ill-fated passing of the too-slow car ahead of him to the trooper slapping the cuffs on him.
Matt listened in grim silence.
“What did he clip me for?” Saks asked.
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Just the resisting charge. It’s a bullshit charge.”
“I know it. He knew it. The trooper was yanking on biker chain. I bet he was hoping he’d get something more substantial, like a nice, juicy drug bust out of you. He didn’t know he pulled over the Boy Scout of bikers.”
Saks scoffed. “Boy Scout of bikers?”
“Luke’s words, not mine. But don’t go too hard on him. It was Luke who made the call to your cousin.”
Geez. Saks had so many cousins he couldn’t keep count of them. “Which cousin?”
“The detective. He called around and found you in lock-up.”
“Luigi,” Saks said with satisfaction. He always could count on Cousin Lou, who was like himself with the family—the odd man out.
“Luigi? I thought he called himself Louis.”
“That’s what he uses at the station. He got tired of the Mario Brothers jokes.”
“I can see that.”
Saks sighed and nodded appreciatively. “Luke was smart to call him. He’ll keep my arrest on the down low until I can mention it to my family.”
“They the type to give you a hard time about it?”
“Yeah. The teasing will be ridiculous.”
“Teasing?”
“Yeah. In my family, a traffic ticket is a joke.”
“And who’s your family?”
“You don’t know?” Saks said in surprise. “I’m a Rocco.”
“The Roccos?”
“Yeah.”
“I see. Well, I guess I’ll get extra street cred out of your case.”
“Not from me. I’m the Boy Scout, remember?”
“Funny,” Stone deadpanned. “Okay. Here we are.”
Saks didn’t think to ask where they were heading, but he saw the sign for Central Valley Bike Repair from the road, and then they drove into the back lot and Saks spied the lights from the clubhouse blazing.
“What’s this?”
“Not my idea but, apparently, your arrest has ‘far reaching consequences.’ At least that’s what your club president said on the phone.”
Oh shit. The day was going from terrible to hellish. He did not want to face the wrath of club president, Oakland Walker.
“Here’s what you need to know. The trooper said he clocked you at fifty-six which, considering the bend you took in that road, I think is ridiculous. Fortunately, in Connecticut it’s not about how fast you’re going, unless you’re going eighty-five, but what kind of road you’re on.”
“But the speed limit is forty.”
“Yes, because it cuts through the reservoir. But no one goes that speed. Cop saw a biker, and he thought he’d get the easy ticket. But that’s not going to happen. Here.” Matt shoved the ticket and a pen into Saks’ hand.
“Sign it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Plead not guilty.”
“But I am.”
“Look,” Matt said, “it’s not about whether you’re guilty or not. It’s whether or not they can prove it. In cases like this, they go on the word of the officer, but considering how he treated you I bet I can dig up some stuff that will make the prosecution back off. I might even get the charges dismissed.”
“You think so?”
“I make no guarantees. We’re dealing with the legal system here. But I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Thanks,” Saks said. “I appreciate it.”
“You’ll appreciate it more when you get my bill.”
“Do you need a retainer?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Give me your card and I’ll send a check tomorrow. Two thousand good?”
“That’s what I like. A man who knows the value of good legal representation.”
Yes, Saks did; another lesson courtesy of his father. “I expect you to earn it,” Saks said. He pushed open the door. Matt just calmly sat at the wheel. “Are you coming?”
“Nope. There are some things I don’t need to know, like what goes on in that clubhouse.”
“I thought you were into bikes.”
“I am. Just not bikers. I’ll start on your case tomorrow.”
“Later,” Saks said.
Matt pulled away and Saks stood staring at the front door of the Hades’ Spawn clubhouse. Luke had built it from a prefab Quonset hut, but it was a fancy modern model, with wood shingles at the left of the door and a large window on the right. The right side was painted a purplish grey, just as the walls inside the club were. He climbed the cement steps and pulled open the door.
To the left side was a dark wood bar with high wood stools before it, and a large-screen TV mounted to the far left on the wall behind it. Glass shelves behind the bar held the different liquors Luke spared no expense in stocking. Round tables and chairs were set throughout the room. A step beyond the bar led to the two pool tables there, sitting before the Hades' Spawn logo painted on the wall.
Luke stood behind the bar with a cup of coffee while Spider and Oakie sat at it, drinking drafts. So, it was an executive meeting, was it? They all turned to look at Saks as he entered. Oakie, beneath his unruly white beard and bushy eyebrows, had a sour expression on his face.
Saks took a deep breath and stepped to the bar. “Hey,” he said by way of greeting.
“Hey,” Luke greeted. “Shitty day, eh?” He pulled a draft and set it before Saks.
“You could say that.”
Spider, hunched over his drink, glanced at Saks next to him. Spider was in his late thirties, still trim, with dark brown hair. His day job was insurance adjuster, which Spider never found at odds with his weekend life as a Hades’ Spawn. The Spawn was a social club, not a one-percenter, not into drugs and crime despite the problems the club had suffered. Spider was one constant throughout, which was why last year he took on the job of vice-president after Luke stepped aside.
Or rather was tossed out. That was a painful time, and Saks chose to stand by Luke rather than follow Oakie. Oakie never forgot that, and though Saks was now Road Captain Oakie never warmed up to him again.
Oakland Walker could be a vindictive sonofabitch. It might be something to do with the time he spent in prison. Or his checkered criminal past with the Tucson branch of the Spawn before he came to Connecticut. Hell, maybe he was just made that way.
Saks took a sip of his beer, mindful of the eyes of the three men on him.
“So,” Spider said. “Tell us about it.”
“A state trooper pulled me over on that stretch that runs through the reservoir.”
“The one marked forty miles per hour?” Luke said. They had all driven that road often enough, since it was the only direct route to the Red Bull.
“Yeah.”
“And you were going...” Oakie said, in his gravelly voice.
“The cop said fifty-five.”
“Damn it!” Oakie exploded. He, along with all the Spawn, was aware of the speed trap and the posted speed limit on that stretch of road. The Spawn's president slapped his hand on the counter, making all the beer glasses jump and slosh their liquids.
“It’s bullshit,” Saks said.
“Is that your defense?” Oakie growled. “I told you. I told all you bastards. Keep your shit clean on the road. They’re looking for reasons to put any of us away!”
“Easy, Oakie,” Luke said in a warning voice. The rift between Oakie and Luke hadn’t entirely healed from when Oakie stripped him of his colors. And even though Luke accepted the position as Sergeant-at-Arms last Christmas, he didn’t mind going against Oakie when he felt he should. Luke glanced at Saks. “What did Matt say?”
“That he’d work on it. He’s pretty sure the charges will be dismissed.”
“There, Oakie,” Luke said. “A little pushback isn’t a bad thing. It’ll teach them not to harass us. Because that’s clearly what this is, isn’t it, Saks?”
“I was speeding—” Why’d he take satisfaction in pissing Oakie off? He knew better.
“There,” Oakie spit.
“But only to pass a cage going too slowly on the road.”
“Idiot. Obviously, the driver of that cage spotted something you didn’t,” Oakie snapped.
Saks hadn’t considered that. But, again, if he didn’t have his head so far up his butt, he might have noticed other signs that signaled that a speed trap was in place. Better to admit stupidity than fight like a dumb-ass. “You’re right, Oakie. I wasn’t watching the road like I should.”
Oakie muttered something inaudible into his beer.
“We all,” Spider said, “get distracted sometimes. You got your ass arrested for it. Now you’ll have to be extra careful until these charges are cleared. And the rest of the club will have to, too. One thing we do not want is the Staties putting bullseyes on our backs.”
“You’re right, Spider,” Saks said. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused.” This last apology nearly stuck in his throat as he spoke it. But he’d made his oath to the Spawn, which bound him to this group. The misdeeds of one stuck to the rest of the group. Something of which Oakie was well-aware. Even though he was cleared of all the crimes that sent him to prison, the stink still clung to him and the rest of the club. This made Saks’ current trouble, a piss in the ocean for anyone else, a big deal. It was going to take a long time before the Spawn shook off that foul odor.
“Okay,” Oakie said, pushing away his half-finished beer. “Keep your shit clean until this is cleared up. Otherwise, I doubt even Matt Stone can make this go away.”
“You got it, Oakie.”
Oakie and Spider said their goodbyes, the door slamming behind them, and left Saks alone with Luke.
Saks drank his beer, aware of Luke eyeing him. His boss looked like he was holding something back and Saks spotted mirth in Luke’s eyes. “You got something to say?”
“You, Saks, speeding?”
“You mean the Boy Scout of bikers?”
Luke shrugged.
“Happens,” Saks said. “I was trying to get back to work on time, and that’s what caused the problem.”
Luke’s eyes crinkled, and then his face registered concern. “You’ve been off your game, buddy.”
“Yeah,” Saks admitted with a sigh.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Fine.” Luke looked around the clubhouse. “Rob’s coming in this afternoon for a few hours. Show him around.”
“And where are you going to be?”
“There are some bikes I want to look at. So, you’ll be closing the shop, Mr. Manager.”
“Sure you can trust me?” Saks couldn’t believe Luke wasn’t going to drill him or give him shit. Just showed how much of a stand-up guy he was.
Luke shrugged. “Saks, it was one ticket. This is a small blip in the legal troubles of the club. If you play it right, Matt might be able to get the fine reduced like you said, or get the charge thrown out. You weren’t drinking and driving. You were being half an ass, but there’s a lot worse shit out there than passing someone on the road.”
“If it was only a speeding ticket, I'd pay it. It's the resisting charge that’s bullshit. However, it won’t be thrown out, I'm sure.”
“Let Matt do his shit. It’ll cost you, but luckily you just got a raise.” Luke tossed his coffee cup into the trashcan. “Drink up. I'll take you to your bike.”
