Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  Blaze has left our group and is chatting to Joker and another man who Dart introduced me to as Shadow from Vegas. Along with some others, it looks like the road captains are getting together and finalising how they’re going to cope with the numbers. There are a couple of police cruisers, but they’re not worrying anybody. In fact, two of the cops are out of their cars and talking to Drummer, oh, and there’s Lost with them. There’s a happy atmosphere here today, everyone excited about the run.

  “You changed your mind, doll?” Dart comes over, grabs the sides of my cut with the patch on the back saying ‘Property of Dart’.

  I shake my head. Seventy-five miles is a hell of a long way to go riding pillion. I’ve started riding up behind my old man, but only short distances so far. And after the new game he tried again last night, I was so full, and a bit sore today. “I’ll go in the truck with Tyler.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.” He gives me a cocky and knowing grin, and in return I mock punch his arm.

  “I’ll have Sam and Amy with me,” I remind him. Sam’s a bit disappointed, but at nearly seven months pregnant there’s no way she can ride her beloved Vincent.

  Sophie’s checking the time on her phone. “Right, I’ve given the stragglers a few extra minutes, but I’m closing up now. Oh, hang on.” She smiles up at another pair who’ve only just arrived, joking they’re just in time, before handing out their two-part tickets and their first playing card. One part they give up as they’re counted out, and it will go into the draw for a prize, and the other is their record sheet to record the hands they draw. They look at their cards, one isn’t happy. Sophie cheerfully lets him redraw.

  His face impassive, whether it’s a better card or not, he’s keeping to himself, and I grin, thinking I’m watching a poker-faced rider setting out on a poker run. Apt. Then Drum gets up on a hastily built stage and yells for quiet.

  “Welcome!” he starts. “Thank you all for taking part today. I’d like to thank our hosts for letting us use their premises as a starting point. If you’ve not sampled them yet, fuckin’ good burgers for ya here.” He waves at the burger joint, which as well as a parking area, has extra land, which is able to accommodate the bikes. “You’ve all been given a map and should know where you’re going. There are five stops in all where you will draw your cards and then get the last at the end. If anyone’s got any questions, just find one of the Tucson chapter—you’ll know them as their cuts have the word Tucson on the back.” There’s a laugh as he points out the obvious. “Now y’all wanna get going, understand that. We go in tens, so as not to upset the cops too much. I know that means some of you will have to wait, but as I said, fuckin’ good burgers available here.” Another laugh.

  “This isn’t a race, so keep to the limits. You don’t get no prize for coming in first. Right, all that’s left for me to say is good luck to y’all. And may the best fuckin’ hand win.”

  As men start going to their bikes, I kiss Dart goodbye, take Tyler’s hand, and go to get in the truck where Sam and Sophie are already waiting. We’ll be getting to the other end before the bikers, as we won’t be making any stops. Carmen and Sandy are already there with the rest of the Tucson chapter who aren’t at the start, and they’ve all been overseeing arrangements to make sure it’s been set up as planned. Ella is riding up behind her man, a Tucson biker is going with each of the groups of riders to make sure they don’t get lost.

  I’ve felt guilty that I wasn’t around to help in the later stages of planning, but I’m thrilled with what’s been done. Seeing the numbers of people that have turned up, elated that the day’s looking set to be a success.

  Having passed the time making small talk, it doesn’t seem long before we’re pulling into the park and the first things I see are the marquee and the beer tent with tables inside and out, so hopefully can cope with anything the weather throws at us today. The blue skies above us suggest it will be fine, and the temperature is just touching seventy, which will be great for the ride. The band’s on the stage and already tuning up.

  There must be fifty or so vendors setting out their wares, and numerous stands selling all manner of food and soft drinks.

  I wave at Carmen and Sandy and then go over, seeing them setting out the items that have been donated for the auctions. They’ve divided them into two different competitions, hopefully so people will buy tickets for both. There’s a well-stocked liquor basket as one major prize, with bottles of spirits for second and third place, and motorcycle paraphernalia as the other, including an expensive-looking helmet and a good leather jacket for the winner.

  Then there are the booth and ring where various competitions will be judged.

  “The vendors are giving a proportion of their proceeds,” Sandy explains. “Tyler’s story has touched everyone’s heart. All of the entry prizes have been donated too.”

  Tyler’s tugging my hand and pulling me over to a stand where commemorative t-shirts and baseball hats are being sold, each one carrying the words, ‘Satan’s Devils Poker Run’.

  I widen my eyes and turn back to Carmen, who explains, “Sophie arranged that.”

  As Tyler pulls me again, I go across to the stand. Carmen’s come along with me. As I go to take out my wallet, she puts out her hand to stop me. “Let me get this. I want to do my part.”

  “Carmen, you’ve already done more than enough.”

  But she won’t be stopped, and soon Tyler’s swapped his plain t-shirt for a black one with the Satan’s Devils’ logo, and she also gets the vendor to throw in a child-sized baseball hat. The beaming smile on his face seems to be all the thanks that she needs.

  A roar in the distance alerts us, and the DJ starts up the music. The sound gets louder and louder, and then the first bikers are through the gates and parking up. They must all have had a good ride, as when they dismount their bikes their laughter mingles with the ticking of cooling engines and the scent of burning oil.

  Participants wander over, passing through the checkpoint and drawing their last card. Having deposited their completed hands in a barrel, some go straight to the beer tent, others go to get food, and a couple start wandering around the stalls.

  Bullet and Viper are with the first two groups, and go to stand with Carmen and Sandy, who will be selling tickets for the auctions. With hopefully a lot of money changing hands today, they want to make sure their old ladies are protected.

  For the next couple of hours, the groups continue to arrive, and there’s good-hearted bantering going on everywhere. Then there’s a long gap, and a last bike appears with a pop and a bang as it misfires and rattles its way into the park. The rider’s greeted by cheers and slaps on his back.

  “Jeez. We’ve got to give a prize for the oldest bike.” Sam’s come alongside me. “That’s a thirty’s Harley. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Then she leaves me to go inspect the bike, and in no time at all is chatting to its owner. I smile as I see Drummer pushing through the throng and hurriedly going over to join her.

  All the Tucson chapter have been assigned roles, and there’s nothing for me to do. Dart appears at my side, and we wander around the stalls. Tyler gets a burger and then cotton candy, and I have to refuse his plea for ice cream, fearing he’s going to be sick. Next, we go to see the car and bike show, gleaming machines which their owners proudly display. I don’t envy the person who’ll be judging that, all of them look fantastic to me.

  Drummer’s back at the stage now, a mic in his hand. I watch him nod to someone, then a loud feedback whistle pierces the air. Well, it gets everyone’s attention. The music turns off.

  “Welcome again, all! I’m glad to report everyone’s checked in safely. First prize to be announced is to Bob, who wins for the last man in and oldest bike.”

  A ripple of good-natured laughter accompanies the man as he is pushed toward the stage. Drummer leans down and hands him an envelope. “Think you might be able to put that to good use, Brother. Perhaps toward new pipes for your bike?”

  When the mirth
dies down, Drummer continues, “We’ll be checking the poker hands for the winner as soon as we can. I hope you’ll stay around and enjoy the day and part with your hard-earned cash at the auctions and stalls which have been set up. Won’t kid ya, we want to take as much from you as you can afford to support our good cause.”

  Dart’s nudging me forward as Drummer’s eagle-eyes land on me.

  “I’d like you to give a welcome to young Tyler.” Bewildered, not expecting to be called up, I walk up onto the stage, accompanied by my son.

  “Sorry about this,” Drummer speaks away from the mic. “Occurred to me seeing Tyler might make them freer with their cash.” Then he turns back. “Tyler here is six years old and was born with sickle cell disease. He looks fine today, but his health is failing. The only cure is an expensive procedure, and we all know about health insurance.”

  There’s a roar from the audience. Yes, everyone knows what he means.

  “His insurance would go for the option that may keep him alive but wouldn’t be a cure. Y’all know how companies wriggle out of paying what they should.”

  Now there are roars of agreement and protest. Reckon most of them understand that.

  “I hope y’all get a chance to meet young Tyler. He’ll be judging some of the competitions today. And I think, if you do, you’ll agree with me. He deserves to be given a chance of a good life.”

  Tyler’s looking at me completely wide-eyed. “Yes,” I tell him, “they’re all here for you.”

  He beams. “To help me get better?” I’ve explained what he can expect, how he has to be brave and go into the hospital. I can’t hide anything from him, it wouldn’t be right.

  As we’ve been speaking there’s been cheering from the crowd. Drummer takes Tyler’s arm and leads him to the front. “I won’t keep you away from the beer much longer, but first I’d like to introduce Lost, the President of the Satan’s Devils San Diego chapter. He’s got something to say.”

  Lost comes to the stage carrying something in his hands. It’s a small child-sized leather cut. Drummer passes him the mic. Lost clears his throat and then starts to speak. “Satan’s Devils’ chapters are full of good men. Sometimes we transfer between chapters. Drummer here is our national president as you all know, but I have been lucky enough to wrangle Tyler from him and get him to California. From what we’ve seen, we’ve got a good member in the making, and following the vote of the San Diego club, today he’s becoming a junior prospect for us.”

  He holds the cut up, and those close enough can see those exact two words written on the back. Tyler stands completely bemused as Drummer and Lost both help him put his arms through the leather. I thought he’d been beaming before, there are now no words to describe the expression on his face. Especially as Drummer picks him up and puts him on his shoulders. Cheering and laughter burst out, as well as a round of applause.

  Totally engrossed in my son, I don’t notice Dart has come onto the stage until Drummer lifts Tyler down, and picks up the microphone again. “Now I think you’ll agree, every kid deserves a daddy. So I’m passing the mic to my brother, Dart, VP of the San Diego chapter, and let’s see if we can’t do that today.”

  What’s he talking about?

  Lost has moved behind me and is pushing me to the front as Dart takes the mic from Drum.

  My hand goes to my mouth. He isn’t, is he? Not here and now?

  “I’m not gonna take long,” he pauses and grins, “I hope. But I just want to say Alex is my ol’ lady, and I want to make her my wife, and ask Tyler if he’ll allow me to be his daddy.” He gets down on one knee and holds out his hand to me. I need a little prod from Lost to realise I should move across and take it.

  “Alex, both you and Tyler mean the world to me. I want you in my life and on the back of my bike for the rest of my life. Will you marry me, doll?”

  “Yes!” I scream out, having no need of amplification to get my point across as I throw myself into Dart’s arms. To the sound of hollers, cheering, and shouts, Dart puts the most glorious, and big, diamond ring on my finger.

  As Drummer disperses the crowd to their activities, Dart whispers in my ear, “That romantic enough for ya, doll?”

  Well, he just proposed in front of a huge audience, almost all his brothers from all chapters are here. “What if I’d said no?”

  “Then I’d have taken you home and spanked a yes out of ya.”

  I swallow. “Can we do that, anyway?”

  Dart bursts out laughing and swings me around him. “Fuckin’ perfect, doll. Abso-fuckin’-lutely perfect.”

  “Are you my daddy now?”

  We both stop laughing and look down at Tyler. Dart reaches out his hand to him. “Yes, Junior Prospect. If that’s what you want.”

  Then the three of us are hugging, not bothering that Drummer and Lost are looking on with smirks on their faces.

  “Daddy,” Tyler begins, and Dart’s eyes flash with emotion, “I’m going to judge the competitions.”

  Not missing a beat, though he sounds choked up, he nods at Tyler. “No problem, Son.” Then he signals Drum.

  “Entrants for the longest beard competition to the judging tent now.”

  Chapter Forty

  Alex…

  Dart and I sit with Tyler as long as we can. I hardly recognise my little boy anymore, he looks so tired and wan. His hair has fallen out, and he is constantly sleepy. Yesterday saw the end of what they call the conditioning treatment—high doses of chemotherapy to destroy his existing bone marrow cells. The process has taken it out of him, and it’s so hard for me to look at the tube that’s inserted into a vein close to his heart.

  Though Dart and I have been allowed to visit, we’re gowned-up and masked to avoid passing on any infection. A process I’ll need to get used to.

  I defy any mother to not break her heart at the thought of any serious treatment being given to her child. This is not as simple or as necessary as having a burst appendix removed, this is an elective procedure that I could have decided against. But with Tyler’s condition worsening, those damn wrong-shaped cells of his could stop his heart at any time, and that’s the risk I’m not prepared to take.

  Today he’s having the actual transplant, and then it will be a waiting game. Tyler’s going to be hooked up to a machine as the stem cells are passed through a tube into his body, hopefully working so he starts producing normal cells of his own. I’m allowed to stay, but Dart has to leave.

  Tyler’s in a special germ-free room. He wanted to bring his cut with him but wasn’t allowed. Nothing that might hold bacteria could be brought in. Dr Crowther’s explained to me the things that might happen. If he experiences vomiting or doesn’t want to eat, he may have to have a tube running from his nose to deliver nutrition directly to his stomach. Depending on his red blood cell count, he may need blood transfusions and/or regular transfusions to top up his platelets.

  It’s all a lot for such a small boy. When the transplant is over, Tyler goes to sleep. The nurse tells me he’ll probably be out for a while. I leave the sterile room and take off my protective clothing, feeling a hundred years old.

  Dart lets me cry, understanding the angst that I feel. By allowing him to have this procedure, I might have just said goodbye to my son for the last time. There could be any number of complications that could take him away from me.

  His recovery will take a long time, at least one or possibly two months or more in the hospital, while he’s kept free from infection and monitored carefully, hoping his sister’s cells work to multiply and take over from his own. I spare a thought for my daughter who never drew breath, and hope somehow, somewhere, she knows that while she had no chance of life, that she existed at all has provided this chance for her brother.

  Dart doesn’t give me platitudes; he can’t tell me it will be alright. He’s holding me close, his chest moves under mine, a telltale he’s affected like me. Tyler’s been calling him ‘Dad’ since the poker run, and the bond between them already closer than
it had ever been with my ex.

  “He’ll be out for a few hours.” Dart reminds me what I’d been told. “What do you want to do? Stay here?”

  I know he’ll let me do whatever I want. I’m not hungry or thirsty, and I won’t be able to concentrate if I try to read. What does a mother do?

  “The primary procedures went well,” he reminds me. “They’ll let you spend as much time with him as you can, but you have to look after yourself. Shall we go into the waiting room? Or outside to get some air?”

  I’m reluctant to leave, wanting to stay as close to my child as I can, while understanding it’s foolish. He’s in the best hands, there’s nothing I can do.

  A nurse comes along to go into the anteroom I just left and gives me a sympathetic glance. “Go get a coffee, or better still, something to eat. You’ve got to keep your strength up too. If we need to contact you, you’ll have your phone on you, won’t you? We’ll get in touch immediately if there’s a reason.”

  Anything would cause my rebellious stomach to revolt, but I nod. I just don’t know how to get through this torturous time.

  “This is the turning point, doll. Up to now it’s been the preparation, but after today Tyler can start moving forward. You’ve got to take some time to look after yourself. I, or one of my brothers will come and sit with Tyler any time you take a break.”

  He’s right. I can’t afford to get weak, or I’ll come down with something that I could pass onto him. I force myself to follow Dart to the hospital cafeteria, and then to eat something that I don’t really want. I’ve got to stay strong. For my son.

  Over the next four weeks we can do nothing but wait and hope. Tyler has so many catheters all over him. They are either constantly taking blood or feeding him cocktails of drugs. The doctors give me encouraging words, but don’t give me a definitive answer as to whether it worked. Today I’ve got a meeting with Dr Crowther to go over Tyler’s progress to date.