Heavy Hogs MC

by Elias Taylor

  As they finished up their entrees, and the plates were cleared away, Christian took a deep breath. It was time. He felt his coat pocket to make sure the small box was still there. He had been planning this for a while, and at this point, everyone except Beth knew. Nerves erupted in Christian’s stomach. He knew this was what he wanted, and he believed Beth wanted it, too, but it was still scary to ask.

  He had to do it, though. He couldn’t live another day without showing her how much he wanted a future with her.

  For so long, he had believed that relationships were all doomed. He thought that love was just a cruel joke, and anyone who got too close would rip his heart to shreds. Beth had proved him wrong, and he could never repay her for that.

  Christian took a deep breath and stood up. The table quieted down. Beth looked up at him with a furrowed brow.

  “I’ve got a little announcement to make,” Christian said. His voice came out steady and strong, despite his nerves. “I think we all know how lucky I am to be with this woman sitting beside me. She’s made my life infinitely better in the last year, and she’s made me better, as well.”

  He saw everyone at the table, nodding and smiling. His mom was about to tear up, Christian could tell. He looked down at Beth again. Her blue eyes were wide and bright, and her mouth was slightly open in surprise. But she was smiling up at him.

  “I love you, Beth Harold,” Christian said. “And because your dad can’t be here, I’ve improvised a bit.”

  Beth clapped her hands in front of her mouth as her mother and stepdad emerged from the back room of the restaurant. Christian had talked with Sharon and George the week before. He knew how much they meant to Beth, and he had wanted them to be included.

  Beth’s eyes widened even further as a group of Road Warrior veterans appeared behind her parents. They were all older guys who had been tight with her father. Christian knew how much Beth missed her dad. He saw the way she sometimes touched the charm bracelet her father had given her whenever she was nervous or upset. He would have asked for her father’s blessing had he been alive, but since it was impossible, Christian had settled for the next best thing.

  “I’ve gotten blessings from your mom and George, as well as your dad’s old friends,” Christian said. “But, of course, the choice is yours.”

  His mother was crying in earnest now, as was Sharon.

  Christian dropped to one knee before Beth and pulled out the ring.

  “Beth, will you marry me?” he asked.

  “Yes!” Beth said, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. “Of course.”

  Everyone burst into cheers, but Christian only had eyes for Beth. She leaned forward and took his face in her hands and kissed him. When she pulled away, her eyes sparkled, and she wore the biggest smile he had ever seen.

  He grabbed her hand and slipped the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly.

  “I love you,” Beth said.

  Christian wanted to pick her up and carry her home so he could show her just how much he adored her, but he knew the families would want to celebrate. They stood and hugged everyone, and someone had ordered a cake and champagne. It was the perfect evening, but of course, it was just the beginning.

  Christian looked at Beth’s glowing face across the crowded restaurant, and he longed to take a photo of her then. He didn’t regret not having a camera too much, though. After all, he had an entire lifetime to capture her joy.

  Book: 6 Carter

  An MC Romance

  Prologue

  “You’re up. It’s busy out there tonight. Work your magic. Bring us home.”

  A tap on the ass followed from Roscoe, my boss. An anthem cheer rose from the other girls in the dressing room. Glitter. Bikinis. Feather boas. Whips. Chains. All props. Part of the nightly routine. I poked my tongue out at him. Time to put on a show. I was last but not at all least. Roscoe typically put his best dancers up at the end of the show. He passed through and gave the other girls a quick pep talk. I was ready to sing for my supper, so to speak. Tonight, I was on the floor. Other times, I was behind the counter at the bar. My favorite drag queen Marvis came in to curl my hair before his show. He was a good friend of Roscoe’s and would sometimes come in and do our make-up.

  “Yas, girl. You better work tonight!” He snapped his fingers, and I tossed my head back with a gleeful laugh. He was always so entertaining. “Fab-u-lous! I gotta run. I’ve got a show to perform, myself. Shake your money maker honey, and stack your Berkeley cash!”

  “Oh, I plan to, and good luck with your show.”

  “It’s always a good show when I come to town. Best believe!” I watched Marvis’s long legs saunter away as he clicked his fingers. I shook my head in laughter.

  I parted my mouth slightly as I glued down my false eyelashes to enhance the Bambi effect. My eyelashes were long, anyway, but this added a little bit extra. Just a taste. I wanted them to have their tongues hanging out of their mouths as they sat there, fantasizing about me for the night. As they paid, I didn’t care.

  I settled on purple tassels for my bustier, and glass, see-through stilettos. They were lined with thick platform heels for support. The purple thong I selected with sparkles on it was a nice finishing touch. My regulars would appreciate that. Chestnut waves glistened and hung down my back. I loved the way my hair swung when I glided down the pole. I aimed to please. I rubbed coconut body oil onto my smooth skin. The sheen looked good when the spotlight flooded the stage. It helped me slide down the pole when I did my tricks. My specialty. I was damn strong, too. I got more tips that way. It’s all about the money.

  I didn’t need drugs like some of the other girls. I wanted to feel that beat of the music thumping through my veins. My mind transcended to another place as I made love to the pole. I pretended it was like foreplay, and I was dancing around my lover. I loved performing. I loved to feel like the sensual lioness that I am and have all the boys come to the yard. It wouldn’t be long before I stopped, either. I was paying my way through Berkeley College, and when I came out, I would have a business degree. I had to do this now while I was young and desirable.

  I wasn’t a dummy, and neither were the rest of the girls. Most were paying their way through something. I made up to three thousand dollars a night, depending on who was in town. That was good money for a girl like me. I liked the finer things in life, but then again, who didn’t? I’d let them eat it up now while I still had the banging body and could stack my chips. The staff were great and treated us with the utmost respect. So they should.

  Everybody knows that sex sells. When you got it, you got it. That’s what men want. Sex and nothing else. We’re disposable to them, and they’re disposable to me. There’s no love lost on picket fences and Disney fairytales. That’s for the meek and starry-eyed. Not me.

  ***

  College just wasn’t for me. I wasn’t that kind of guy. I was hands-on. I fixed shit and worked with my hands. Mainly bikes. Bikes were my first love. Yeah, I could fix and tune up a car, but when I took a bike apart and put it back together, there was no better feeling. I mean, I looked at it—the college thing—but when it came time to follow through and attend their dumbass opening day, I couldn’t do it.

  That day I walked into the repair shop, smelled the grease, and heard the purr of the Harley Davidson, I knew what I had to do.

  I learned from the best in the business. Dan Miller. An old bandy type of dude that had been around a long time. I’d seen him around the neighborhood, and bikers swore by him. Especially at the California Ryders club. He only had a few wisps of white hair on his head, but he had a mean white mustache that grown men envied. He smoked cigarettes like a chimney.

  I had my cap turned backward the day I walked into the repair shop. There was a sign posted up on the door. Help needed. Will train. That’s all.

  He had parts strewn everywhere and five bikes lined up. A radio blasted old school rock classics in the back. He sure looked like he could use some help, and fast.

 
; “Excuse me, sir.” I said.

  “What can I do for you, kid?” He looked puzzled because I wasn’t on a bike, but then he saw my car. He waved me off. “I don’t fix cars. You see the sign?” He pointed. “I fix bikes and bikes only.”

  He was kinda grumpy until you got to know him.

  “Nah. I’m here about the ad on your door back there.” I pointed to the door. He paused and wiped some grease off his coveralls.

  “Oh, you are, are you?” He put both his hands on the bottom of his hips and swayed backward, stretching himself out.

  “What kind of skills you got, son? Can you do paperwork, too?”

  “Yeah, I can. I’m real good at problem-solving, and I’ve been tinkering for a long time with bikes.”

  “Oh, yeah? I knew I recognized your face from somewhere.” He pulled a cigarette out from his top pocket and let it hang from his bottom lip. “You’re part of that whatcha call it?”

  He clicked his greased fingers together. I finished his sentence.

  “The California Ryders, sir.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” He guffawed and patted me on the back, looking me square in the eye. He squinted at me as he lit up his smoke. “Son, if you can take instruction and help me with the overflowing orders I got right now, I will teach you everything there’s to know about bikes.”

  “You got a deal.”

  And from that point on, Dan kept his promise. Under his tutelage, I learned all there was to know about bikes, especially Harley Davidsons. Plus, bikes got girls. That much, I knew. If a guy was riding a bike, a chick wasn’t far behind. My father taught me to love ‘em and leave ‘em. Unless they had a baby inside of them. Then, it was a different story.

  “A man’s gotta take care of his responsibilities, son.” That’s how I remembered the conversation.

  From that day on in the shop, I never looked back. I had big dreams to open my own shop, and this was the stepping stone I needed to move me forward. Whatever it took, I was willing to do it. I was a man who didn’t mind getting down and dirty.

  Chapter One: Open for Business

  “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.” A low whistle greeted me bright and early. “You’re looking a little bit secondhand there, buddy. She must have worn you out.”

  Magner, my best friend and mechanic proceeded to chew me out. It was too early for this. Especially without a coffee in my hand. I rolled my eyes his way. I’d barely stepped foot in my motorcycle garage, and the heckling had commenced.

  “I wish, buddy. I wish.” I rubbed the back of my neck and stared at him. He had a wrench in his hand and was working on a custom Harley. I tapped the outside of the bike shell. “You gotta tighten that up a little bit. It’s loose here.”

  He raised a single eyebrow at me. “It’s all right. I got it. Just about to work on it next.”

  I blew out a sigh and stepped into the office. We had a couple of new bikes to work on. But jobs were sort of dribbling in. I felt Magner’s eyes boring into my back.

  “So, what were you doing last night that made you look like this?” He used the wrench to indicate my state of disheveled appearance.

  I groaned out loud. “Give me a break, dude. I was busy crunching numbers, and now my brain hurts.” Magner straightened up then and looked closely at me. I looked back at him. He was a good looking guy with classic mechanic features. He had dark hair, olive skin, and he worked out. Women liked him. Magner was a likable dude.

  “Everything all right?” Magner’s brow furrowed a little as he waited for my response. I patted him on the back.

  “Yep. Everything’s fine, buddy. Business as usual. Nothing to worry about. Just a little budget forecasting.”

  “Okay, okay. Sounds good.” He kept whistling and went back to working on the Harley.

  The truth was, we could do with a little extra business. Things were getting a little tight at Custom Made. I saved real hard after working with Dan to open my own doors. It was a moment I had dreamed of since I was a kid. Thankfully, I achieved my goal by thirty-five. It was the first step. I didn’t want to be in this position just so I could lose it all. I’d been in business for a few years now, and a job always managed to find its way to me. Faith told me the next one would be on it’s way.

  I turned the radio on and let the tunes run through the shop. That familiar smell of grease made me feel right at home. Time to get down to business. Once I got in the groove with taking a bike apart, I went into a trance. No one could pull me out of it. The bike became an extension of me. We worked in tandem together. I put my coveralls on over the top of my jeans. Today, I was working on a newer model Harley. The Triglide. The owner hit a ditch, and the fender had some grooves in it. Plus, he wanted an upgrade on the paint job. We even did that, too.

  Magner sang out from underneath the Harley he was working on. “You heading out for lunch?”

  “Yeah, maybe. I’ll probably go grab a bite.”

  “You mean you’ll go get a drink at The Red Gorilla,” he replied sarcastically.

  “Sure, I like a drink. So sue me. Takes the stress away.”

  “I hear you, bud. Do your thing,” Magner said. What he didn’t know was that it stopped me from worrying about keeping the doors open and paying Magner a wage.

  I winked at him. “Plus, that foxy bartender up there isn’t half bad. She’s easy on the eyes and has a nice rack. Sadly, she has got a boyfriend. But hey, I can still look.”

  Magner sneered. “I don’t blame you. Gotta do what a man’s gotta do, right?”

  “Exactly, my man. You won’t catch me getting caught up over a woman. Not a snowball’s chance in hell. But I can most definitely look.” I rolled over to pick up a socket wrench. If I wanted to expand the shop, I would have to ramp it up a notch, and that’s all I cared about.

  “You weren’t fooling me. I know you’re just headed there because of the bartenders and the titties floating around.”

  “Ha! Don’t hold back what you really think.”

  Magner’s face was tensed in concentration as he tested out his handiwork and revved the engine. Satisfied, he pulled the cloth from his back pocket and wiped the seat down. “Never was a man to hold back. That’s why we’re best friends.”

  I nodded in appreciation. “Can’t argue with you there.” We worked silently after that, and before I knew it, my stomach was rumbling for sustenance.

  “Hey, man,” I called. “It’s about that time. I gotta stop for a few. You want anything while I’m out?”

  “Nah, I’m waiting for Gary, remember?”

  I nodded as I washed up. I never could get all the grime from underneath my nails. Pitfalls of the occupation. “Oh, that’s right. That sweet old ride he’s got.”

  Magner glanced down at his phone. “Yep. That’s the one. I can’t wait to get my hands on it. I’ll go grab something later.”

  “Okay. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  “Okay, later.”

  I stepped out in the fresh open air. I was California born and bred. Sunlight was never far away. Sun, surf, girls, and bikes weren’t far away, either. Some people liked hiking in the great outdoors, but not me. I loved nothing more than to feel the undercurrent of horsepower of a motorbike. It was a gateway to freedom for me.

  The garage was well lit but on the darker side. I forgot that when I stepped out, and it almost felt like another day I stepped into. I told myself I would mix it up and try another lunch spot, but somehow, I ended up right back at The Red Gorilla. I had to admit, I loved it there. It was a normal establishment by day, but at night, it turned into a strip club. And a damn good one, too. The girls were amazing dancers.

  I stepped in the door. As the name suggested, the bar was cloaked in a red hue. The top forty hits played, and most of the people in the place were having a good time. It always had a nice atmosphere. Some of the patrons were regulars, and they knew me. I tipped my baseball cap to one of them.

  “Hey, Frank, how you doing, buddy?”
r />   “Hey, good, my man. You working today?”

  “Yup. Sure am. All I ever do.” Frank, I knew from around the way. I would see him in the bar every now and then. He was a bigger, older guy who sometimes showed up at California Ryders. He was a cool dude.

  “I hear you. I just came in for a quick beer, and then I’m back to it myself.” He slapped me on the back and kept moving out the door.

  I walked up to the bar and settled in. I stretched out and soaked in the bar scene. Just in my eye line, a pretty hot thing captured my attention. She was blonde with a nice rack, open face, and big, soft almond eyes. I put my hand up to indicate I was ready for service, and she gave me a head nod letting me know she’d be with me in a minute.

  “Hey! Carter, right?” She winked at me.

  “Aw, you remembered my name. I must have made an impression on you.” I grinned at her, and she smiled back coyly. “What’s your name?

  “Phoebe, and that you did. Are we sticking to your usual, or you stepping out on a limb today?” I matched her energy and gave her the floor.

  “How ’bout you choose this time.”

  “Hmm.” She scanned me up and down. “I know you like your beers. This is a craft beer. Try it out. We just got it on tap. Sierra Nevada. It’s fresh and crisp. Put your lips to it.” I hadn’t seen her around so much. Typically, she didn’t work behind the bar.

  “Oh, I will.” I winked at her. “Hit me with it.” She poured my beer with ease, and I watched with great interest. She got the frothy head on it just right.

  “Not bad.” I exclaimed.

  “Thanks. I’ve been at it for a while.” We both chuckled at that.

  “I like it. Crisp like you said. Real good.”

  “I thought you might like it. So, hey, you fix bikes, right?” she asked.

  Shocked that she knew that much about me, I raised an eyebrow at her. I watched her over my beer. “Yeah. I fix bikes. Why do you know someone that needs their bike fixed?”