by Sara Fawkes
“Hell if I know. Not my business unless someone tells me something.”
“Why are a bunch of angry bikers in a secret meeting?” I mused, staring at the meeting room door.
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Sweetie, for a newcomer, you sure ask a lot of questions.”
I just shrugged. “I like finding out stuff, it’s fun.”
“Well, I’d rein it in around club business. They closed that door there for a reason.”
I sighed and nodded, tucking away the information for later. Maggie turned around to dump the trash, and my eyebrows rose at the words on her jacket. “‘Property of Road Rash’?” I read aloud, taken aback. What the hell did that mean?
“Road Rash is my long-time lover.” My expression must have amused her because a big grin split her face. “I remember being in your shoes,” she mused, grabbing several beers from the fridge behind the counter. “Swore for years I’d never wear a Property patch anywhere on my body. Thought it was silly and archaic.” She popped off several caps in a practiced flourish and set them on the bar for several waiting girls, who rushed them back to their prospective men. “Funny what love makes us do.”
The degrading moniker didn’t seem to faze her. In fact, it seemed to be a point of pride, and reluctantly, I gave her a small smile. If she was okay wearing it, who was I to protest say anything? “Road Rash?” I asked, willing to bet there was a story attached to that nickname.
“He got the name the third time he was in an accident. Damned fool likes to stunt, even on half-ton bikes. Wouldn’t even bother with a helmet if California law didn’t require it.” She snorted. “Broken more bones than I can count, but he wears that name proudly. Says he’d rather die on that bike than in a bed, the big jackass.”
“So what exactly does “Property of” mean then? Are you two married?”
She laughed at this. “As if! He’d never ask and I’ve never say yes if he did.” At my quizzical expression, she explained, “We’ve been in bad marriages, got taken advantage of by the other party. Soured us both to the whole institution. I don’t mind being in a relationship, but there’s no way I’ll tie myself legally to anybody else. Jackass had to wear me down just to get me to wear these patches.”
When I still looked confused, she sighed. “Okay, think of it like a class ring. You wear it around to show that you’re taken, that you’re off the market. The bikers who respect your man will keep their hands off if they know what’s good for them.” She eyed me. “The analogy a little before your time?”
I waved my hands at the other girls in the room, most of whom were my age or younger. “So are they all property too?” My tongue tripped over the word “property”. It felt strange referring that way to people in this day and age.
Maggie snorted. “They wish. Oh sure, there’s a few decent ones in the mix, but most are just girls looking to live on the wild side. Some want to become a club member’s old lady, but for the most part they put out to whomever asks.”
Here was a chance for me to get some firsthand knowledge on the world, and my journalistic instincts took over. “What’s it like to be in this world?”
She shrugged. “It’s different. People from the outside world don’t always get it.” A faraway look came in her eyes. “The Club comes first in everything, even over relationships. A lot of people can’t cut that, knowing they come in second place, but that’s the price of loving the Club.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but the back room opened back up and the men spilled out. None of them looked happy; they all had stony expressions on their faces, including Ash who made a beeline for me. The water had helped to sober me up a bit but I could tell something was wrong.
“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice abrupt, and I followed him out the door to his bike. Others were doing the same, and within seconds the sound of loud pipes filled the air. Ash handed me my helmet wordlessly and swung his leg over as I attached it to my head. He didn’t bother to strap his on, obviously in a rush to get someplace.
We rode in silence back to my apartment. I was more comfortable on the bike this time, but the tense feelings coming off the man in front of me ruined some of the enjoyment. The narrow walls of the apartment complex amplified the sound of his pipes. I worried about what the neighbors would think as he stopped in front of the entrance of my building. At least I was getting the handle of my dismounts, but it bothered me when he wouldn’t even look at me. “I’ll see you around?” I asked, my voice just barely above the rumble of the exhaust.
He didn’t answer, just revving the engine, and a shard of disappointment went through me. I pulled the helmet from my head and held it out to him. That finally got his attention, and he stared at it for a moment before looking straight ahead. “Keep it,” he growled, and then rolled on the throttled and moved away. The roar of his engine echoed throughout the complex, and I listened for a long while before the sound faded into the background sounds of the highway.
The helmet dangled from my fingers beside me as I tried to figure out what if anything I’d done wrong. I had no idea what was said in the room, and maybe it was better that way. Tears welled up and I dashed at them with the back of my hands, annoyed that I was even crying. Stuffing the helmet under my arm, I turned away from the parking lot and headed up the stairs to my apartment.
Chapter Six
The next day I put in a call to the contact Murray my boss had given me, and made an appointment at lunch to talk with him. Maybe he could shed some light on just what kind of world I’d somehow found myself in.
The man who walked in through the doors wasn’t quite what I expected. I’d been waiting for a uniformed police officer, so when an older gentleman in plain clothes and a salt-and-pepper goatee sat down across from me, I gave him a puzzled look. He held out his hand. “Detective Warren Sharpe.”
“Eve Parker,” I said, a bit taken aback. How did he know who I was already? The restaurant was crowded and I hadn’t told him anything about myself. Yet the minute he’d walked inside the restaurant, he’d made a beeline for my table.
I shook his hand and studied him as he sat down. He was older, maybe his early fifties although the grey hair might be making him seem older. He seemed spry and alert however, and I could tell he was studying me as well. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
“Murray let me know your assignment, so I expected your call at some point.”
“I’m trying to find a story on the local outlaw biker clubs in the area,” I explained, not knowing how much Murray had told him. “Murray said you were his local expert, do you know anything that might help me?”
“Yeah, that you should stay away from them.”
My mind flashed back on Ash’s face. “May be a little too late for that advice,” I said, a smile tugging at one corner of my mouth.
He snorted. “So I’ve heard.”
I bristled at his comment, annoyed by the implications. How much did he really know about me?
Warren seemed to notice my ire and sighed. “Look hon, after you called me this morning I looked you up, just to make sure you were legit. You’ve been spotted at a known biker club, and it appears you have a dubious relationship with the Savage’s enforcer. How am I doing so far?”
I didn’t like his insinuations, nor did I like others knowing details like this about my life, so I ignored his question. “What can you tell me about the Savage Legion motorcycle club?”
“Only that they’re native to the Sacramento area, although they have chapters as far north as Redding. These men are as secretive as any other one-percenter biker gang I’ve seen.”
“One-percenter?”
“A motorcycle gang involved in illegal activity. Anything from drugs, murder-for-hire, prostitution, firearms, explosives—you name it, these guys can find it.”
“And…and the Savages are involved in that kind of thing?” I felt a little faint. Somehow, the danger seemed less exciting when I heard it from the detective.
Evan sig
hed. “Several known members have histories with this sort of thing. It’s only a matter of time before we have the evidence to put the rest of them away for good.” He looked me square in the eye. “We’re always looking for people who can let us know what’s going on.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sharpe,” I said primly, “but my spying services are not for sale.”
He eyed me speculatively. “But you have seen something, haven’t you?”
Right then, my phone rang. I usually would have ignored it for an interview but I needed a distraction to gather myself. I didn’t like the way the detective was staring at me, as if assessing what if any value I could be. It wasn’t in my best interests to get between the law and a biker gang, that much I knew.
I immediately recognized the number and answered the call. “Hello, this is Eve Parker.”
“Hello Ms. Parker, this is Tara from Long Pines. I’m calling about your grandmother, Adele Reed, a patient in our facilities.”
“Is she okay?” I demanded, forgetting all about my interview.
“She’s stable now, but I was hoping you could stop by sometime today to speak about her future here at Long Pines.”
Helplessness burned through me as I clutched the phone, wanting to throw it against the wall. “I can be there in less than an hour.”
“An emergency, I take it?”
“I apologize to cut our lunch date short,” I said, standing up in my chair and picking up my purse.
“Ms. Parker, wait.”
I paused and looked down to see him studying me again. “Look, I know you don’t want to be lectured, but I need to warn you. Biker gangs like this are a hard bunch. They don’t like outsiders, and they’ll chew up a nice girl like you until you’re reduced to less than nothing.”
I bristled. “Mr. Sharpe, I can take care of myself.”
“That may be, but women are considered property in these groups. You’d exist only to satisfy or make them money, nothing more. They have no respect for members of the opposite sex; they’ll take girls and set them to work as prostitutes, passing them around to members of the gang to rape at will. A woman like you who knows her own mind and isn’t “trainable” might at best get beaten, at worst found in a ditch someplace out in the foothills.”
Sunny’s face immediately came to mind, and I swallowed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Call me if you ever need anything.”
Giving him a jerky nod, I turned around and left the cafe, heading to my car.
The ride across town was long, with lunch-hour traffic backing up the highway. The slow speeds only made my mind dwell on things other than driving, and the sheriff’s words kept repeating in my head.
I’d only seen the lives of two women in the club so far, and while they’d been radically different, what little I’d seen made me nervous. Ash had described Sunny as club property, someone to be passed around to anyone who wanted her. I’d only briefly spoken with Maggie, but the Property patch on her back still left me worried. That world was like an entirely different country within California.
Was I making a mistake allowing myself to get too close?
Long Pines was in Folsom, and it took me almost forty-five minutes to get out there from downtown Sacramento. I parked my car and hurried inside, bypassing the lady at the front desk with a brief wave. If they stopped me, fine, I’d sign in, but right then all I wanted to do was see my grandmother.
I knew something was wrong almost immediately as I neared her room. Raised voices came from up ahead, and I winced at the sound of something shattering. My suspicions were confirmed as I saw a nurse backing out of the room, holding her forehead with one hand. Her face was set in a stony frustration, and as I rounded the corner to the room, what I saw broke my heart.
“Get out of my house!”
My grandmother Dora stood wielding her cane like a baseball bat, ready to swing at any provocation. She was still dressed in her pale nightgown with her thinning hair sticking up every which way. Scrawny legs stuck out beneath her gown, translucent skin showing off the dark veins and liver spots along her calves and shins. The disease had aged her more in the past two years than I’d seen my whole life, and it killed me to see her decline like this. I stepped into the room, holding my hands out, but it broke my heart when I saw no recognition in her eyes.
“I want my husband! Where’s Ethan? Ethan!”
“Grandma, please,” I begged, trying to get through to her, “please calm down.”
“What have you done to my little girl? Where’s my Evie?”
Oh no. “Grandma, it’s me, please…”
She picked up a small ceramic jewelry box on her dresser and launched it with surprising accuracy straight at my head. I moved quickly out of the way but not fast enough; the small box hit my shoulder, then fell to the ground and broke in a million pieces.
The sound seemed to finally get through to her, and she stared us in puzzlement. I saw when she realized what had happened, what she’d done. Horror crossed her face, and big tears appeared in her eyes. “Oh,” she moaned, grabbing the railing beside her bed. “Oh, Evie baby….”
Breaking down in tears right now would only make the situation worse, so I pushed my breakdown deep inside for another time. “It’s all right, grandma,” I murmured, moving forward and wrapping her in my arms, “you didn’t hit me.”
She felt too soft and frail in my arms, as if she’d shatter if I squeezed too hard. She kept making little distressed sounds that broke my heart, beside herself. I looked back at the door to see several orderlies had appeared just outside the room. The nurse who’d been holding her head had disappeared however.
I kept my body shielding the view to the door, not wanting her to see the two men. I didn’t want to imagine what might have happened if the orderlies had been forced to do their job, my heart was already breaking enough.
“C’mon, grandma, let’s get you into bed.”
She continued to moan her apologies over and over, and I promised to relay her regrets to the nurse. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face. There was only so much I could hold inside, but I got her back into her bed and tucked in. “I’ll be right back,” I promised, “I need to go speak with the staff for a moment.”
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
The misery on her face tore me to pieces, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to lie. In her lucid moments, she understood how bad she was getting. My grandmother was a woman who had always prided herself on being a gracious hostess. Watching the disease take hold of her was painful, but how much worse was it for her?
I had to wait ten minutes before I could see the director, who shook my hand as I entered. The nurse that I’d seen earlier holding her forehead was here as well. While she wouldn’t look at me, I saw the red bruise forming right above her eyebrow. I didn’t want to have this conversation, I really didn’t, but I forced myself to sit down in the open chair and prepare for the worst.
“I won’t lie to you, Ms. Parker, we have a problem here.” The director, Angela Sparks, fixed a pitying gaze on me. I dug my nails into my palms to keep silent. “Your grandmother’s behavior is getting more and more out of control as her disease progresses.” She glanced at the nurse, then gave a great sigh. “I’m not sure if this is the right facility for her any more.”
“The woman’s a harpy,” the nurse beside me muttered. I tensed, my hands curling into fists.
“Emily, that’s enough.” The director turned to me. “I realize this might come as a shock, and we’ll give you as much time as possible to make arrangements. I’m sorry that it’s come to this, but I think it’s time for you to search out other options for your grandmother.”
Her words were like a punch in the gut. “I’ve tried that,” I murmured, my voice cracking. “I’ve been looking at places since her outbursts grew more frequent, but everything else is either worse or more expensive.” I hung my head. “I can’t afford any place that will give her the care she needs.”
“I sympathize with your situation, Ms. Parker, but my hands are tied in this. Have you considered an in-home nurse perhaps?”
I sunk lower in my chair. “We had to sell her home to pay for this,” I whispered, despair overwhelming me. “I live in a tiny apartment on the third floor with no elevator.”
“The state of California has several programs that could help subsidize,” the director continued, but trailed off as I shook my head.
“We don’t qualify for any of them. If she was on death’s door, maybe someone would help us. Everything comes out of my pocket for this.” I leaned forward, putting my hands on the desk. “Mrs. Sparks, please, Long Pines is my only option. I can’t afford anywhere else.”
I saw the indecision on her face, then the nurse Emily spoke up beside me. “That woman is a menace,” she spat in a nasty voice. “I refuse to work here any longer if she stays.”
“Emily, enough.” The director’s voice was sharp, but already I was trembling with a barely suppressed rage. I was ready to strike out at the nurse, show her what real nastiness looked like. Mrs. Sparks must have seen something in my face. “You can leave now Emily, we’ve heard enough from you.”
Emily stood stiffly, and while I felt her glare on me I didn’t return it for fear violence would ensue. Fortunately, she exited quickly, leaving me alone with the director.
We sat in silence for a long moment, then the other woman sighed. “I wish there was something more I could do for you, Ms. Parker. We’re a long term retirement community however, and aren’t equipped to handle hospice care. Your grandmother’s Alzheimer's is progressing quickly, and it’s no longer something we can handle.”
She set a file down on the desk in front of me. “Here’s some literature and brochures of places locally where we’ve directed clients before. You aren’t the first person to deal with this, and unfortunately won’t be the last. I guess, however, that knowledge is cold comfort.”
Wordlessly, I took the folder and left the office. I wasn’t sure what I would have done if the other nurse had tried to talk to me again. A million dramatic moments played out in my head how that fight would go, but she was already gone when I stepped out into the hall. I made it to my grandmother’s room but sat down outside the door, trying to get myself back together.
