by Sophia Gray
The door to the hospital room opened and Dr. Kroger, along with two other physicians, entered. Doctors only traveled in groups when something bad was involved. They didn’t get together to share good news.
“Good, she’s sleeping.” The doctor was graying along his temples, but the rest of his hair remained dark, giving him an older look that given any other situation, she would have found handsome. “This is Dr. Leopold and Dr. Mandel.”
“What did the MRI show?” she blurted out after giving a nod to each doctor in greeting. She didn’t care who they were; she just wanted to know what was wrong with her mother.
“Nothing good, I’m afraid.” Dr. Kroger sighed, flipping through a folder in his hands. “There’s a tumor, Josephine. It’s pressing on the part of her brain that controls memory and speech. That’s why she started to talk gibberish earlier.”
Josephine took a deep breath, clenched and unclenched her hands several times, and stood up from the chair she’d been sitting in. She walked to the foot of the bed, where the little cloister of doctors was standing. “Can it be removed? Is it malignant? How do we get it out of her?”
Dr. Kroger shot a glance to the shorter, grayer doctor to his right. “It’s not operable, not at the size it’s at. We can try to shrink it, then try to remove it, but even then, it’s not a guarantee. Dr. Mandel is an oncologist; he’ll be handling the treatments to help shrink the tumor. Dr. Leopold is a neurosurgeon. Now, there is a new technique, one he’s very familiar with, that could remove the tumor. It’s a Gamma Knife procedure. Only a handful of surgeons in our area are able to use it successfully, and he is the top in the field.”
Josephine’s attention diverted to the skinny blond man standing off to the left. He didn’t appear to be overly cocky, but with doctors, you couldn’t really tell until they started talking.
“Okay, so you can do this? You can get it out?”
“We’ll need to do more tests to be sure she’s a candidate for the procedure, but if she is, then yes, I can do it.”
“Okay, so, let’s get the tests done.” Josephine nodded.
“First, we need to get her more stable. Her blood pressure is all over the place. We’ll start her on some medications that will hopefully shrink the tumor while we are waiting for the tests, and insurance and all of that to get in line before Dr. Leopold can do his part,” Dr. Mandel piped up.
Her stomach shifted. Insurance? What would all this cost? How could she afford to help her mother? They never talked about her health insurance. Josephine would need to look into the policy. “What happens if we do nothing, or if all of this doesn’t work?” Josephine spoke so softly she barely heard herself ask the question.
“I’m afraid if it doesn’t work, the tumor will spread. It’s a very aggressive cancer.”
Cancer: that word she’d been waiting to hear but hoping it wouldn’t come up.
“It will spread quickly, taking away her ability to speak, eat, and move around on her own. It will spread throughout her body, and well…” He let the rest hang in the air. Maybe the idea of telling Josephine her mother was going to die was hard for him, too.
“How long?” Josephine looked back over at her mother sleeping in the hospital bed. Her soft brown hair fanned out over the pillow, her pale cheeks sunken in from whatever sedative they pumped into her IV.
Dr. Mandel took a deep breath. “With no treatment, six months or so. With some chemo and radiation, it would buy a few more months. The Gamma Knife procedure could give years or more.”
Josephine didn’t turn to the doctors, she just nodded to let them know she’d heard. “Okay, so we start the tests, right? Get her blood pressure stable, then we can do that?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry, Josephine. This is going to be a hard few weeks for both of you.” Dr. Kroger laid a hand on her shoulder.
She didn’t say anything to him, just hung her head. She was grateful when the doctors filed out of the room, because it was then that she let herself sink into the armchair at her mother’s side and cry—because her mother was sick, because she wasn’t sure how they were going to afford all the medicines and treatments, and because even with everything they did, there was still a good chance, a high probability, that her mother was going to die.
# # #
Lucas Bates sat back in his chair, watching the other members around the table bickering over the next step to take. Being a captain of the Fury Riders gave him voting rights, and more say in what happened with the ongoing battle with the Iron Rebels. That damn club had been slowly encroaching on the territory the Fury Riders controlled. It was hard enough keeping the cops at bay without adding a rival war to the shit list they had on his MC.
The extra heat didn’t help, and it only distracted him from the real work that needed to be done. The club needed more income, more legit income. They managed to stay on the good graces of the city council with their charitable work, but it was the back end of the club that needed work.
Too many members were tired of fundraising for causes outside the club, then seeing their paychecks getting smaller with each of their runs.
Joe, the club president, slammed the gavel down on the old oak table. The founders of the club had carved the club’s emblem into the table for generations to come to remember the fight they had at becoming a chapter, at becoming a deep-rooted organization in the community. The chatter in the room stilled and all eyes turned to the prez.
“I get that you’re all pissed. I ain’t all that thrilled either!” His ratty voice boomed against the walls. Joe suffered from COPD, and getting riled up would send him into a coughing fit if he weren’t careful. “The fucking Iron Rebels aren’t’ just creeping into our club business; they are starting to threaten our town. Two of those assholes cornered Jenny, the mayor’s daughter, in the Moose Neck yesterday. If Lucas and Cam hadn’t walked in when they did, the girl wouldn’t have stood a chance against those fuckers.” Joe dragged his hand across his forehead. The summer heat was getting to him, even with the air conditioner blasting in the room. “As far as money in the club, I propose we begin offering more services in the garage. Open business up to all vehicles, not just bikes. I know we liked having that specialty, but times are changing. Jeff just closed his shop down the street. He retired and none of his sons wanted to get their hands dirty. So that’s what I’m proposing.” Joe sat back down in his chair, taking slow, deep breaths. If the club hadn’t been aware of his condition, no one probably would have noticed. But he was the president, and when he was pained, everyone took note.
“Put the vote to the table,” Lucas called out with a slap of his palm against the hard wood. Just the feel of the solid oak beneath his hand was enough to remind him of the solidity of his club, of his brothers. If working on station wagons and minivans would keep their club alive and well, fuck yeah, he’d do an oil change for some soccer mom. Shit, maybe she’d be divorced and looking for some distraction from the snotty toddlers in the backseat.
Joe gave a nod and the votes started. Not a single nay. The club would soon be booming in legal cash again. The backroom stuff, well, that was for another meeting, another day. The Fury Riders weren’t any sort of one percenter club; they didn’t go for shoot-outs in the streets or running assholes off the freeway just because some dumbass cut them off on their bike. And running drugs and guns, that wasn’t really their thing either. No, the Fury Riders ran medicine. Medicinal marijuana was still illegal in Ohio, but the need for it was just as high as ever. To the Feds, it was just as illegal as running cocaine, but to the Fury Riders, it was fucking community service.
There was also the whorehouse in the back of the compound. An escort service is what the tax returns read—legal companionship, no sex involved. Fuck that. If sex weren’t involved, what asshole would pay a grand for a night with one of their girls? Hell yeah, there was sex. A whole lot of it, and kinky as hell, too.
With the vote over, Joe grinned wide and smacked the gavel back down. “So, it’s done! Now, get
out of here and get some time in the clubhouse. All prospects are on duty tonight so drink it up. If you can’t walk to your bike, you crash here. No excuses!” There wouldn’t be any. Joe’s little sister was killed by a drunk driver almost a decade ago, and not a single biker in the club had gotten on a bike after having too much to drink ever since. Joe would have had their balls mounted on the fucking wall.
“Hey, Lucas.” A warm, slim hand pressed against his chest as he walked out of church and into the main lounge area. He didn’t even need to look down to see who the hand belonged to. Only one of the sugar bites, a nickname the brothers used for the club whores, would be bold enough to hang outside the door waiting for Lucas to exit.
“Cherry.” He nodded, then moved her hand back to her side. Stepping to the side to let the other brothers head toward the bar, where he wanted to be, he tried to give her a hard glare. “You know you aren’t supposed to be hanging by this door.”
She had enough sense to blush. “I know, but I didn’t want to miss you. I haven’t seen you in a while.” Her hand was back on his chest, inching its way beneath his kutte. The rest of her pressed up against his side, large tits pushed against his arm, and if he moved just a bit more, her leg would wrap itself around his waist.
“I’ve been busy.” He noticed Cutter waving to him from the bar, signaling a shot was lined up for him. “And I’m busy tonight, too. Why don’t you help someone else out for the night?”
The rejection didn’t deflate her. No, not Cherry. She’d been itching to get her claws into him for nearly a year. She had too many aspirations of becoming his old lady, even when he told her he didn’t want or need one. Sticking his dick in whatever woman he wanted to, that was the way he was going to keep on living. Women just complicated shit, and he didn’t need that. He had a club to take care of. Joe wasn’t getting any younger or healthier, and Forrest, the VP, hadn’t been healthy enough to attend a church meeting in months.
“Maybe I could stop by later?” She still hadn’t let him go; in fact, her hand traveled downward, past his belt, and lower still until she was rubbing his cock. As much as he didn’t want her at that moment, his cock reacted anyway. A woman stroking the length of him wasn’t something he could completely ignore. “Maybe I could help you release some of that stress you’re carrying around.” She yanked on him and turned them so she was pressed against the wall, and began to unbuckle his belt. Her fingers were nimble, and she had his button undone and her hand wrapped around his fully erect cock.
He leaned forward, pressing one hand against the wall to balance himself as she sank to her knees, her eyes still locked on his. A little stress reliever never hurt anyone.
Men behind him laughed hard, the music pumped up and the liquor was flowing with ease. His cock was sliding easily between Cherry’s lips. Fuck, she had a nice mouth. He dug one hand into her hair, and pushed her faster and harder down on him, not giving a shit when she gagged or coughed. She wanted this; she could have it. When he came, it was hard, but not unlike every other time he shot down her throat. Yanking out, he put himself together. She got back to her feet, wiping her mouth with the tip of her thumb, looking more pleased with herself than she probably should have.
“Thanks, Cherry.” He gave her a quick glance, making sure not to smile so as not to give her any wrong ideas. He shouldn’t let her do stuff like that. She was trying to label herself as his girl. The club knew better, but still, he didn’t need anyone thinking Cherry was his. If he ever did take an old lady, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be someone who prowled the MC looking for a member to take her on. And no way would he let his old lady act the slut in front of the guys. In private, yeah, she’d be his little whore, his plaything, and she’d get as much reward as him for the fact, but no one would share in that. Not one fucking man would put his eyes on his woman.
“Lucas…” It was the softness of her voice that stilled him for a moment. “I…well, do you think maybe we could have dinner? I mean, I’ll cook, I’ll cook your dinner.”
He’d let her act go on too long. “Cherry, look, it’s not going to work. If you really want to be an old lady, you have to stop blowing members in the damn bar.” He turned and walked away, but heard her little gasp as he did. Was she pissed or upset? Either way, he hoped she got the idea, finally.
Lucas made his way through the members and stepped up to the bar, lifting the shot Cutter had poured for him. Pouring the liquid heat down his throat, he grimaced and then slammed the shot glass down on the bar. “Fuck, I needed that.”
“I don’t know, brother, looked like you were getting what you needed over there in the corner.” Cutter took a pull on his beer. The bald-headed bastard stood a head shorter than Lucas and was nearly five years younger, but he had a steel set of balls on him, calling Lucas out whenever given the chance. It was for that reason he was one of his closer friends.
“Fuck you.” Lucas grabbed the open beer in front of him. “You need to set her up with one of the prospects or something. She’s just not getting the hint.”
“Hint? I’ve heard you turn her down over and over again, but then you stick your dick in her mouth and she gets all her hopes up again.” Cutter looked around the bar, turning and leaning back on his elbows. “Which prospect hasn’t had a shot yet?”
Lucas laughed. “I don’t mean find someone for her wrap her legs around. I mean find someone that will keep her. She needs to find someone permanent.”
“What, you’re playing matchmaker now?”
“She’s not a bad chick, just fucked up logic. She just needs someone stable.”
Cutter laughed and ran his hand over the large tattoo covering his bald head. “If stable is what she needs, she should probably go somewhere else.”
“Just do your best to steer the good ones her way. Maybe we should put her to work in the back.”
“Let her get paid for being a whore?”
“If she wants.” Lucas nodded. “And it’s not being a whore, it’s being an escort. Show some fucking respect. Our girls aren’t street-walking, discount pussy.” Lucas shoved him and downed his beer. The night had taken its toll on him. He knew the vote would go the right way with the garage, but there was still the matter of getting the Iron Rebels off their backs.
“Fine.” Cutter sighed. “I’ll talk with her tomorrow.”
Lucas nodded, intending to head up to his room. The main floor of the clubhouse held the bar area, church, and the business offices. The second floor was made up of apartments. Any unmarried member with high ranking was offered an apartment upstairs. Other, lower ranking members were offered rooms in one of the three houses on the compound.
The doors burst open, and two members ran in screaming. Lucas couldn’t understand what the fuck they were carrying on about. Pushing his way forward, he finally got to them. Two prospects held up bloody hands.
“Nickolas!” one said between gulps of air. “Shot. Those fucking Iron Rebels assholes cut us off on 5th and Main. Nickolas flipped them off, and they fucking shot him!”
“Where is he?” I grabbed the one able to talk by the neck of his shirt, nearly lifting his thin frame off the ground.
“Hospital.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you call someone!” I shoved him to the ground.
“We went after the fuckers but couldn’t catch up to them. Someone else called the ambulance; they were loading him in when we got back.”
“You two idiots chased after them yourselves?” It was Cutter’s turn to growl at them. Fucking idiots. Been prospects for two months. Those Iron Rebels would have torn them to shreds.
“Next time, you call for help. Right away. Got me?” Lucas pointed a finger at them. They both nodded. “You should have called the ambulance first, not some fucking bystander. You never leave your brother lying on the ground bleeding like that!”
They both nodded, looking pitiful and shaken. “He’s okay, the bullet hit his shoulder,” one of them finally said.
“Cutter, take care o
f these idiots. I’m going to go find Joe and head over to the hospital. And someone call his fucking wife. She’s gonna go batshit when she hears, so someone’s gonna have to drive her to the hospital.”
“I got it man; you go take care of business.” Cutter nodded and grabbed the two prospects, shoving them toward the bathrooms.
Lucas took a deep breath and went to find Joe. More than likely he was going to have get him out from between some soft thighs. What a way to end the fucking night.
