by Reid, Ruby
By the time he was on the ground, the leader was rearing back to swing again. Alex caught the man’s fist, twisted it, then grabbed his arm. He then forced the man to bend over slightly and brought his knee up into the man’s ribs three times in rapid succession. He then released the leader and watched him drop beside his big friend.
It had all taken less than ten seconds.
Alex expected at least one of the other three to come and he wasn’t wrong. What he hadn’t been expecting was to see the small lead pipe come sailing at him through the air. He dodged it by quickly leaping to his left and giving a warning cry to Carl and Slim.
Carl caught on a little too slowly. He saw it coming, but too late. He lifted his hand to block it and Alex heard a bone snap like wood…likely one of Carl’s fingers. Carl let out a yelp and a curse. Slim started forward to retaliate, but Alex gave him a quick shake of the head. Slim looked furious, but he obliged.
Alex walked forward slowly, as if inviting the three men to come. The man that had thrown the pipe stepped forward hesitantly. Alex took one dash towards him and brought his right arm back. When the man raised his arms to fend off the blow, Alex quickly lifted his right leg. He drove his foot hard into the man’s crotch and then he, too, was also on the ground.
Behind Alex, Slim had picked up the lead pipe. Carl was hunched over, making hissing sounds and holding his injured hand. When Slim came up beside Alex, he grinned.
“You have twenty seconds to leave,” Alex said, “or else we’ll finish fighting.”
There wasn’t even a discussion. The two remaining men had looks of shocks on their faces when they straddled their bikes and kicked the engines to life.
As they pulled out of the bar’s dirt lot, Slim patted Alex on the shoulder. “How in the hell do you do that?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “I’ve always just been good at it.”
And behind that was another sad thought that he would never dare tell Slim or Carl or any of the other guys in the club.
And even though I’m good at it, I wished to hell I wasn’t.
***
They met at one of their rendezvous points a little over an hour later. Carl’s pinky was snapped, but he managed to drive slowly. The meeting place was a small little ravine on the outskirts of Reno, a place along a dirt road in the woods that they used a lot because there were no cops around for at least twenty miles. Yet, to call the place woods was a stretch. The trees were all mostly dead, giving way to the harsh and uncaring desert that took over less than a mile to the east.
Only two people were there waiting for them: Jameson, the club leader, and his wife, Karla. They were drinking beers by the edge of a small stream that wound through the forest.
“We good now?” Jameson asked after they had parked their bikes.
“We’re good,” Alex said. “The little territorial dispute has been resolved.”
“Anyone seriously injured?” Jameson asked.
“At least two of them are going to have pretty rough headaches in the morning, but other than that, nothing serious,” Alex said.
Jameson nodded and as he did, his eyes fell on Carl’s hand. They had stopped at a drugstore along the way and purchased medical tape and a metal splint. It would need real medical attention tomorrow, but for right now it would have to do.
“What the hell happened to you?” Jameson asked him.
“He broke his pinky,” Alex said. “Someone threw a lead pipe at him.”
“It was that bad?”
“Hell no,” Carl said, grinning like a loon. “It wasn’t bad at all. Alex wiped the floor yet again. Took down a steroid freak that outweighed him by one hundred pounds easy with a single lick.”
“That’s my boy,” Jameson said. “So they know not to be dealing dope on our side of the turf anymore, right?”
“Absolutely,” Alex said.
“Well done. Look…I want to lay low for a while. Before we head across country, I think we should take some time away from each other. So take about a week to do whatever you like. I don’t care what it is as long as it doesn’t raise the eyes of the law. But whatever you do, make sure you’re in Chicago on the seventeenth. Meet up at the hotel we talked about yesterday. Am I understood?”
Alex, Slim, and Carl all gave a “Yes, sir,” in unison.
“And Carl, get that finger taken care of. It looks like hell.”
“Will do.”
The three of them started to go back to their bikes, but Jameson spoke up before they could leave. “Alex, hang back for a while.”
Alex nodded and then waved to Carl and Slim as they got on their bikes. He took a seat on a fallen log by Jameson and watched the only real friends he’d ever had since high school drive back into the night down the dusty dirt road.
“You’re one tough son of a bitch,” Jameson told Alex when the roar of the engines had faded. Karla looked Alex over as Jameson spoke. She smiled at him in a way that made Alex very uncomfortable. She was in her early forties but dressed and behaved like a woman in her early twenties. She’d had a boob job, which was always on display in low cut shirts and push-up bras. Tonight, it was only a shirt, her breasts nearly spilling out and her nipples clearly outlined through the thin fabric of the shirt.
“Thanks,” Alex said, making sure not to look in Karla’s direction. The woman was a lunatic, yes. But Alex had always been a sucker for a nice set of breasts and Karla’s were just about perfect, albeit surgically so.
“You’re a hell of a fighter and you have a good head on your shoulders,” Jameson continued. “Now, you haven’t been with us long enough for any sort of leadership position, but I want you to know that I’m going to push for it. You’ve floored me, kid. Really.”
“Thanks,” Alex said again. It was all he could say.
Jameson intimidated the hell out of him and the fact that his wife practically undressed him with her eyes every time he was in their presence made it worse. Jameson was in his late forties but had lived a hard life that made him look closer to sixty. He was thin and wiry but had a voracious strength that took most people by surprise.
“I need to know something, though.”
“What’s that?”
Jameson looked to Karla and gave her a knowing grin. She returned it and then looked to the campfire. “You’re tough as nails and I don’t question your loyalty to the club at all,” Jameson said. “But look…if I’m being honest…you seem to have a good heart. Maybe too good. Sure, you don’t mind handing out an ass whooping and you can drink damn near anyone under the table. But…I don’t know. You don’t strike me as the kind of young man that would stay in a club like this. And we need that, you know? We need loyalty.”
“I understand,” Alex said. “And you have my word. I’m here to stay.”
The only noise in the night in the moments that followed was the crackling of the campfire.
“Can I ask why?” Jameson asked. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re where you want to be, kid. This can be a long, rough road. And if there’s any chance that there’s something better out there for you, I want to know that we’re not holding you back. In Chicago, shit is going to get real.”
Being called kid pissed Alex off, but he hid it well. In fact, it didn’t bother him because of the unexpected sentiment coming from Jameson. “Well,” Alex said, “my life has already been rough. I know pretty well that the straight world has nothing for me. Friends come and go. So do women and jobs and success. Things here in the club seen more normalized. The friendships I’ve made here are tight. It’s the first place I’ve ever felt like I belonged. And I don’t think I’ve ever trusted anyone as much as the friends I’ve made here.”
“Do you trust me?” Jameson asked.
“Absolutely.”
“That’s good, kid. Because I trust you more than just about anyone else in the club. And maybe it’s because of that kind heart of yours. I just don’t want that kindness to get you in trouble one day. You know?”
/> “I understand,” Alex said.
Jameson smiled and held out his closed fist for a fist-bump. Alex obliged and the two men shared a smile over the campfire.
“Glad to finally get that in the air,” Jameson said. “Now go on home or wherever it is you lay your head. I’ll see you in a week in Chicago. Go live it up between now and then. Shit’s going to get real in the Windy City, you can trust me on that.”
“Will do,” Alex said.
“And one more thing,” Jameson said. “Try to stay available this next week. Do what you want, but expect a call from me. I might have you run a job for me on your way to our new home.”
“Of course,” Alex said.
He gave Jameson and Karla a wave as he got up and walked back to his bike. He looked back only once and saw that Jameson and Karla were snuggling up, Jameson running his fingers along the low collar of her shirt. Alex was pretty sure the tent set up in the shadows would be shaking within five minutes or so.
He mounted his bike and headed out. He went down the dirt road and then found the secondary road that would lead him to the highway and then, twenty miles later, to the apartment he would no longer be living in come next week.
He smiled as he accelerated on the highway. The wind, the night and the absolute freedom all around was like nothing else the world could offer him. It was moments like these when he knew life would never get any better. If he wanted to outlive the dark secrets from his past, this was the only way—on his bike, driving through the night like he was trying to beat the dawn.
CHAPTER FOUR
Alex used the first day of his week off from club duties to sleep. He had no job to worry about. The only source of income he had was selling stolen bikes and classic cars to unknowing parties. He could make just a single sale every two months and consider it a good year. It just so happened that he had made three sales last month alone and, if he chose to, wouldn’t have to work for the remainder of the year.
Being only August, that gave him a nice span of time to do anything. Of course, a lot of that time was devoted to club details: recruitment, helping other members with personal matters, and basic maintenance and upkeep of the three clubhouses they had in the Reno, Nevada area.
So he slept for fifteen hours, waking up at four o’ clock in the morning and lounging around his apartment until eight o’ clock. He finished stacking up his boxes, waiting for the U-Haul that would take all of his belongings from Reno to Chicago. His new place in Chicago was only marginally better that his current heap, but he was excited to be moving. Reno, like most every other place he had ever called home (and there were quite a few of them) had nothing for him. The process of moving was a pain in the ass, but he had never been emotionally involved in any of the moves he had made. He was just looking forward to getting back out on the road.
He was pretty sure most of the guys in the club felt the same about the move. There were a few members that were staying behind and, thus, severing their ties with the club. These were chiefly family men that had no other choice. Jameson had respected their wishes and had even given them monetary bonuses for their dedication to the club. Alex assumed this was why Jameson had stopped him last night to make sure he, Alex, was where he truly wanted to be.
Alex was thinking of those men as he waited for the U-Haul. He wondered what it must be like to have that option—to either stick with the club and follow them to their new turf in Chicago or stay behind and remain in their nice homes with their loving families. He almost envied those men for the ability to stay with their families. He cared nothing for their 9-5 jobs or their nice homes in pretentious neighborhoods…he just wanted the family aspects. That was something he hadn’t had since his tenth birthday and it was something he found himself missing more and more the older he got.
It was also something he had never admitted to anyone—much less Jameson or anyone else in The Unknowns. Hell, he was barely able to admit it to himself without feeling undeserved pity.
He was thinking about this while sipping his coffee when a knock sounded on his door. The U-Haul was apparently here, an entire fifteen minutes earlier. Yet when he answered the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see Slim on the other side, waiting for him.
“Seven thirty,” Alex said, genuinely shocked. “That’s pretty early for you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah it is,” Slim said. “But I figured I better get a start if I’m going to ride with you.”
“Really?” Alex said. “I thought you had to finish out the week at work.”
“Screw that noise,” Slim said. “I called the boss this morning and told him I quit.”
“How’d he take that?”
“Not good. But I’m sure he won’t have a problem finding some other monkey to change oil and rotate tires.”
Alex wanted to hug the man. He had planned on driving to Chicago on his own. Jameson and Karla would be behind, taking care of last minute wrap-up errands in and around Reno. And the other club members had shady under-the-table matters they needed to deal with in their final days in town as well. To know that he wouldn’t be making the two-day trek on his bike alone was beyond relieving.
“That’s great,” Alex said. “You sure you can just pack up and go like that?”
“Everything I need and little personal keepsakes are all stashed in my single backpack,” Slim said. “I’m starting over in Chicago. I’ve been saving up over the years and think I can start a nice little life there.”
Across the street, the U-Haul was pulling into the apartment complex parking lot. Alex watched it creep into the spot directly in front of his apartment, anxious to get going. He couldn’t get his few boxes of belongings on that van fast enough.
“Want a hand?” Slim asked.
“Yeah, that would be great,” Alex said.
They worked together with the two-man U-Haul crew and had everything packed up in less than fifteen minutes. As they moved the boxes, it occurred to Alex that he could also have moved in the same way Slim was moving. There was nothing of real value in the boxes that he was having hauled to Chicago. But there was something about holding on to old furniture and books, keepsakes from every period of his life that made him feel more human. It made him feel like maybe there was something for him in the world and he just hadn’t discovered it yet.
When the packing was done, Alex and Slim watched the truck roll back onto the highway, headed for Chicago.
“Just like that, huh?” Slim said.
“Just like that.”
Slim clapped him on the back as they walked outside and Alex locked up his apartment for the very last time. “Ready to ride?” Slim asked.
“Always,” Alex replied, walking towards his bike and feeling freer than he ever had.
CHAPTER FIVE
On Wednesday night, Amanda ended up at a restaurant, sitting in the bar area by herself. She had been placed at a corner table and was sipping on a martini. She had always told herself that she would never dine alone and while she considered drinking alone in a public place equally depressing, she allowed it tonight because it had been a spur of the moment decision.
She did feel awkward as she sat in the corner by herself. She had her Kindle with her and was reading a book off and on as she sipped from her drink. Her hair was done nicely and she had on just enough makeup to hide the blemishes in her cheeks that she always seemed to be fighting off. She’d been sitting there for an hour and had noticed the place starting to get packed for what she assumed was the late dinner rush.
She’d caught at least two men looking her way but one had been with his wife (she could tell by the wedding band on his finger) and the other had only been looking at her out of sympathy—at the poor woman that was having drinks by herself.
Honestly, she didn’t really care. She knew that in order to get back into the dating scene after what she had been through with Stephen, she was going to have to take steps she wasn’t used to. That meant making herself vulnerable and uncomfortable. The good thing a
bout tonight was that she had made up her mind about one thing: she would consider any sort of contact a success. If she met a decent enough guy that was pleasant to talk to and that was it, then success! On the other hand, if she met a guy that seemed to stir the heat inside of her (a heat that had been running under her emotions like lava beneath the ground for far too long) then she might just give in to that as well.
Another thing to consider was the fact that she was modestly attractive. This was not a conceited notion, but one she had learned to graciously accept ever since her Senior year of high school. She had always taken care of herself but she was also not waifish and sickly looking. She was one hundred and thirty-five pounds, had breasts that rivaled those of just about any pin-up, and had a lower half that looked wonderful in just about anything she wore. It had always been her face that she had been uncomfortable with. It was a very plain face, highlighted by her thin and defined lips and large brown eyes.
