Just Ride Black Rebel Riders' MC Volume 1

by Glenna Maynard

  “Mr. Jones, take a seat please. I am sure you are well aware of the fact that Baby has an anger management problem. Now me and Miss Hughes.” he motions to a stuck-up looking broad, lace top, pencil skirt—looks like she's never had a good lay. “We believe Baby needs outside help to learn to control her anger.” He hands me a card for a local child therapist.

  “If Baby continues to have these outbursts, we are going to have to take action.” Uptight bitch tries not to be intimidated by my gruff appearance. My hair has gotten longer, and my beard could use a good shave, but it don’t rightly matter what you look like when you are on the hunt for vengeance.

  Baby pipes in with her smart mouth, “I don't need nothin’. That little bitch Susie needs to lay off my pencils. She knows strawberry is my favorite.” Her arms are crossed, and she doesn’t understand why everyone is looking at her over her outburst. I could care less if she calls the kid a bitch, but I need Baby to be in school. Can’t be home to teach the hellcat myself, and I know Foxie can’t handle her all the time.

  “I'll take care of it.” I jerk Baby up from her seat by her straps on her pony backpack. “Come on, kid. I’ll buy ye a milkshake.”

  Making sure her pink brain bucket is secured tight and that she is comfortable I smoke my tires just a little as the final bell rings. I know she loves it, only reason I do it. Her tiny hands hold on to the belt loops of my jeans and that’s when I notice her bracelet on her left hand. Right there dangling across her wrist is Red’s engagement ring. The skull and roses just screamed Red to me. Looks just like the brand she had tattooed on her arm that marked her as mine.

  “Let’s go, Grim. Burn rubber, old man.” Who is she calling old man? I ain't old. Not by a long shot. I try to shake away the fading memories of Red that play out in my mind, like they are on a blurry screen. But even when I’m not thinking of her, she is somehow always in the back of my mind. How can you still feel someone with you after these many years? Some nights I lie awake and I could swear I can feel her breath tickling my ear.

  My girl, my Baby, is the only other woman who will ever ride on the back of my chopper, even if she does love pink. Not sure, what it is with her. Everything has to be pink—not just any pink but cotton candy pink. Never knew there was a difference until Baby came along. I always thought pink was pink.

  Watching her is so motherfucking hard. She’s sitting on the picnic table slurping her strawberry milkshake, dressed like a pink nightmare—pink chucks, pink skirt thing that looks like something a ballerina would wear, and a glittered pink tank top. Her red hair shines bright like a flaming torch in the sunlight. Little shit even has her momma’s freckles and creamy skin.

  Nothing about the girls says she is mine. She is all Red from her head to her toes.

  Knowing I need to talk to her about school I take a seat beside of her. “Listen, Baby, you can’t go around doing and saying whatever in the hell ye want. At least not while you’re at school.” She pouts, shrinking away from me, picking at the faded green peeling paint on the table. “Do you want a chili bun?” I try changing the subject. I don’t know how to be her dad. Her goddamn bracelet catches my eye as it twinkles in the sun. Yup I am ready to get back on the road. Not sure how much of this I can take.

  “Can I stay home tonight, at Foxie and Slim’s? Rebel has a new game and I wanna watch him play?” Baby has a room at my trailer, but she rarely stays in it being that I am on the road for the most part. When I am not hunting Benji and Squirrel, I am making moonshine deliveries. I’ll do anything to be on the road.

  “If that’s what you want.” She squeezes my hand and puts my heart in my throat when she looks up at me with those eyes that have that fire dancing in them.

  Chapter 3

  After spending a quiet evening with Baby, I take her back home to Foxie. Kid didn’t hate hanging out with me as much as she normally does. I help her off my bike and she surprises me by wanting to show me her room. The little brat has the bedroom of a true biker princess, everything is pink, even her walls are painted what I would call pussy pink, but I wouldn’t say it to the kid.

  Foxie sends Baby to the playroom with Rebel and Striker to do homework and asks if she can talk to me in private. I agree figuring she wants to talk about what happened with Baby today at school. She tells the boys to keep an eye on Baby that she will be back in a few minutes.

  We walk quietly to the garage. Blaze is going to service my bike for me. It’s long overdue for an oil change. The building is empty, all the brothers are partying it up at the Roadhouse and that’s where I am headed after I talk to Foxie. But what Foxie wants to talk about is not what I had in mind.

  “I’m not asking you to love me, Grim. I just want to fuck you. Slim don’t appreciate what I got. Do you know it has been two years since he has touched me? Ever since he moved Wild Cherry into the clubhouse. That’s where he is tonight. He don’t even sleep at home with me and the kids. Hasn’t in over three months. A woman knows by looking at a man if he loves her. I know you don’t love me anymore than I do you, but we can enjoy each other’s bodies.”

  I grab her arm and pull her in close. “Is this what you want, Foxie? Want me to use and abuse you. Fuck you real good and make your pussy quiver? Is this what you want?” I breathe against her neck, trailing my fingers down her chest until they dip between her breasts.

  “Yes, oh god yes. Grim, please just touch me,” she pleads with me through her amber eyes.

  “You don’t make my dick any harder than you make Slim’s.” Dropping her arm as the hate she has for me spreads through her veins I start to walk away. Picking up the closest thing she can find, Foxie sends a wrench flying right at my head, but it drops short hitting the heel of my boot.

  “Fuck you, Grim,” she seethes, her chest heaving with anger. Watching her titties bounce and hearing the anger in her voice makes my dick twitch.

  Crossing the room, I sling all the tools lying on the table onto the cement floor with a clatter. “Fuck me you say. No, bitch. Fuck you.” Grabbing her by her hips and placing her up on the worktable, I pull her shirt down exposing her soft melon shaped breasts. Running my tongue over her ample bosom, I continue arguing with her. “You want to feel me? Want to feel me filling that tight slit between your legs?” Tugging on her piercing I clamp my teeth down on her sensitive flesh, as a moan escapes her lips, driving my lonely cock wild.

  “Please,” she whimpers, aching to be touched. Fuck, my cock is hard, and it has been a few weeks since my dick’s gotten wet. My dick is growing and straining against the seam in my pants, begging to be set free. Her legs go around my waist, her hands fighting my belt buckle as I sink my mouth down over hers. Our lips crash, our tongues probing and prodding one another. There is no love passing between us, it’s pure lust and need. She has the desire to be wanted and I am chasing the feeling of yesterday.

  She sets my cock free and takes it in her hands, licking her fingers she starts stroking me, my erection growing firmer with every touch.

  “Want me to show you how a woman is supposed to feel, want me to show you desire and lust?”

  “Yes,” she rasps full of assurance.

  Is this wrong? Hell yeah, it’s wrong, but I stopped giving a fuck about doing what’s right a long time ago. But then again I’m not sure that I have ever cared.

  Pulling a condom from my billfold and setting it to the side, I pull her from the table and help her step out of her shorts. Her knees are shaking, and I haven't even started. Her bare pussy is exposed, waiting and willing. Down on my knees, she pulls my head to her exposed core.

  “Want me to suck and fuck you? Wonder if you taste as sweet as you used to?” I sure as hell hope her pussy isn’t tainted.

  She scoots her ass back up on the cold metal table and her legs are over my shoulders as I begin to work her pussy. My fingers are coated in her juices and I shove them in her mouth, making her get a taste of herself. Foxie moans and shoves my head down. I flick my tongue over her sensitive mound. “God
, yes. Please, Grim,” she pleads.

  “Only because you said please.” Delving my devilish tongue into her tight channel, swirling and twisting it, I eat her out. Her fingers are clenched in my hair pulling it so damn hard as she reaches her climax. I slide the condom over my dick and take her to pound town.

  I grip her hips and slam inside her sweet cunt. She may be a bitch but she her pussy is good. Her nails scratch down my back as I lay into her chasing my release.

  **

  Do I feel guilty that I just fucked the club Prez's wife? Hell no. That motherfucker would have fucked Red if he had the chance. Walking into the Roadhouse I spy Slim with fucking Wild Cherry bent over the pool table. Motherfucker gets off in front of the whole club like it’s nothing. It wouldn’t be if some of the other old ladies weren’t present. Feeling like a pure prick, I walk over and take a swig of my beer coating it with Foxie’s juices from my lips. “Here, sweetheart. You look thirsty.” I hand my beer off to Wild Cherry and watch her get a mouthful of Slim's old lady's pussy. Serves the whore right. A wicked smile spreads across my face as I watch her lick the excess beer from her lips.

  “Good to have you back, brother.” Slim takes me in, not realizing the reason for my good mood.

  “Feels good to be back, man.” For tonight anyways, I whisper under my breath as I take a seat by Romeo and his newest flavor of the week.

  “Are you done playing highway avenger, fucker?” Romeo asks as his newest conquest buries her head in his lap.

  “Until I get my next lead.” Someone is bound to give up Benji or Squirrel eventually. Greasy fuckers are bound to leave a trail at some point. Everyone makes a mistake at least once, and I will be there when they do.

  **

  Home alone in my trailer I go over my map. I have searched the east coast far and wide looking for any trace of Squirrel or Benji and keep turning up empty handed. Came real close to finding the pieces of shit a few years ago, but someone warned them before I got there. The two of them were holed up in an old clubhouse right outside of Memphis. Pretty sure they had Sarah with them. I found a young girl’s dress. The thing was small enough to fit Baby, the two of them aren’t that far apart in age. Only two years separate them. If I could find Sarah and introduce her and Baby, at least they would have each other.

  Not sure what I will do with them when that day comes. Some days I think I could walk away from the club. Take the girls and start over. Give them a real shot at a decent life, but this is all I know. Doubt Baby would ever go with me. My kid loves Foxie and those boys something fierce. It’s not as if I know how to be or even have the desire to be a father. I never had one of my own.

  Things are changing all around me, and it’s time I make some choices of my own.

  Our ten-year deal with Hook is about to be up, we have one last payment to make and I plan to handle it. I have been waiting for the past ten years to put an end to that bastard and his reign of terror, and no man is going to stand in my way. The only thing that has stopped me is the fact that he knows where Benji is hiding and where Sarah is. After I lost Red, I raided the Devils Rejects compound in western Kentucky to find it empty. The motherfuckers went quiet, laying low. Hook and his men didn’t surface until a year after I lost Red, and I pick off one of those seedy bastards any chance I get.

  Chapter 4

  Texas

  Sarah

  “Look here, girl. Me and Squirrel has business to see to. I'll be back in a few days. I am leaving you here with Betty, no funny business ye hear?” Diablo takes a long hard drag off his cigarette, blowing his smoke in my face, causing my stomach to lurch. Squirrel smiles at me exposing his rotting teeth, and his rancid breath hits my nose as he kisses my forehead, before they walk out the door. I really wish he wouldn’t touch me, but running my mouth only gets it smacked.

  Hearing their Harleys rumble in the distance is pure bliss. Daddy hasn’t left Betty and me alone for a long time. I hope him and Squirrel never come back. Wouldn’t hurt my feelings any if the two of them ended up flattened like pancakes on the freeway. Nope it wouldn’t hurt me, not one bit. Betty is busy cleaning up from their late-night partying from the night before. How she is able to let Daddy and Squirrel use her is beyond me. When and if I ever get away from here no man will ever own me. If I never see another man in a leather vest riding a Harley it won’t be a moment too soon.

  “Get your head out of the clouds and help me clean this mess.” Betty is looking at me through tired chocolate eyes. Her once beautiful olive skin looks so dull. She doesn’t shine like she used to when I was younger. Her teeth are going bad like Uncle Squirrel’s. I think it is from all that nasty stuff they smoke.

  “Betty, did you know my mom?” My mother has been on my mind a lot lately. Her and leaving here is all I can think of. The thoughts and feelings are consuming me.

  “Hush that talk. You know I ain't supposed to talk to you about that stuff. Your daddy hears you asking such a thing who knows what he’d do.” She brushes me off, continuing to pick up the beer bottles and trash that litters the floor.

  “I'm tired, Betty. My stomach is cramping. I couldn’t get no sleep with all that noise last night.” My lower stomach is in knots and my back is hurting. She places a hand on my forehead. Betty can be sweet on rare occasion.

  “Go on and take ye a bath. I got this.” Making my way to the bathroom, I have to clean the freaking tub first, my dad and Squirrel live like animals. It makes me sick. Sweeping my long strawberry blonde hair into a high ponytail, I sink down in the freshly cleaned tub and escape my reality for a moment with one of Betty’s romance books. Daddy would throw a fit if he knew I was reading it, but Betty sneaks and gives them to me once she is finished with them. I think she loves escaping in the pages as much as I do. This particular book is about a teenage vampire queen who accidentally killed her boyfriend by feeding on him too much, and now she roams the earth looking for his reincarnated soul. I wonder if such a deep love could ever really exist. Has anyone ever loved someone so much that they would spend their whole life trying to find them again?

  When I get out of the bathtub Betty is passed out on the couch, and by the sound of her snoring she will be out for hours. Creeping into Daddy’s room I go down on my knees being careful not to make the floor creak. I don’t think Betty would tell on me if she caught me, but I don’t want to chance it. Opening the trunk that rests at the foot of Diablo’s bed, I take a deep breath and look inside. The box that holds the key to my mother is in here. I just want to see her face. I have heard him speak about her pretty red hair when he was drunk. They say I look nothing like my mother. That I look a lot like my dad’s family. Not that I would know by comparison. I’ve never seen any of them that I can recall. Only difference in my father and me is the color of my eyes. I suspect they are the same as my mother’s. Flecks of gold and brown that looks like they are on fire in the right light.

  According to Squirrel, I come from a long line of biker royalty in the MC community. He says one day I will be at the head of the Devils Rejects. When he talks like that it scares me. I am afraid he thinks it will be him at my side. I have other plans. I don’t plan to spend my life as biker trash—that is what the kids at school call me.

  With shaky hands, I pull back the top of the metal box marked Gypsy Red. Running my fingers over her name gives me shivers. I have wanted to look inside for so long, to have a piece of her to carry with me always. Lying on the top is a picture of her. I know it has to be her. There is a woman leaning against a motorcycle, my dad’s Harley. She is wearing short cut offs and a tank top. Her red hair is glowing in the sunlight, and she looks happy. Inspecting the picture closely it appears she is pregnant. Is that me in her womb?

  Laying the photo to the side there is so many documents I don't understand. It all looks like legal stuff. The papers all have the name Kara Marie Johnson on them. I wonder if that is her name? Being careful to keep everything in order, I continue looking for more links to her. It is mainly papers. The
re aren't any other pictures of her. My chest sags when I come to the bottom of the box. Now that I have seen her face, I feel even emptier, just like this box. Taking the photo, I stick it inside the book I was reading. I’m not ready to let it go. To let go of her. I place the box back in the trunk when I hear a small clink come from inside the box. Inside is a ring with a silver cross on it. I take the ring and shove it in my pocket and scurry from the room as I hear the sound of a Harley barreling down the road.

  I scramble to hide my book under my mattress in my tiny room that is really more of a closet. It has room for a twin mattress in it and that’s about it. I miss the house we used to live in. At least there, I had a real room and some real friends. The kids around here snub their noses and treat me like chewed up bubblegum stuck on the sole of their shoe. Rushing to the kitchen, I shove my hands down in the cold, dirty dishwater left over from last night no doubt.

  My panic subsides as I hear the motorcycle breeze on by our small home. The only thing that makes my days bearable is my walks to and from school, but today is a Saturday. Which would normally mean Diablo, Squirrel, and Betty partying it up, but with two of the three gone, I am at a loss as to what to do with my newly found free time.

  Drying my hands on my pants, I walk outside and sit on the porch to people watch. The little boys who live across the street are having a water gun fight. I’ve never had one. Watching them play is kinda fun though. Sweat is beading across my forehead and spilling down my back. Three years here and I still haven't gotten used to this Texas heat. One of the boys sees me and asks if I’d like to play. Figuring there really couldn't be much harm, I decide why not, looks like a good time.