by Karen Renee
I broke from Cal’s hold, but he was barely swaying his hips in time with the music. I realized that Cal was not much of a dancer. His gaze was steady on Vamp, and his words about Vamp not backing away from a conquest came to mind. I looked back to see that Natasha had managed to dance her way to Vamp’s side. The three of us were seriously getting down to Gwen Stefani singing about how she was gonna “keep on dancing.” I couldn’t believe Vamp would be so bold as to proposition Natasha. For that matter, I had a hard time believing the man who drove a white pickup truck with a Pink Floyd front plate could throw down soulful dance moves to pop music. Clearly there was more to Vamp than met the eye.
A huge smile crossed my face as I watched Natasha and Vamp. I loved dancing and it had been far too long since I danced with people I knew. The door to the RV swung open, and Starla joined us. She was wearing shiny black leggings with a black tank top adorned with the Harley-Davidson logo in orange on the center of her chest. In her black high-heeled knee-high boots, she shimmied her way in front of Vamp and clasped her arms around his neck. Natasha glided over to Cal and I, and she gave me a light hug.
She pulled away and asked, “How was the ride? You looked really happy when you two pulled up.”
I nodded and said, “It was great. You need to get Leon to take you on a motorcycle and do the Loop.”
Natasha smiled at me and then looked beyond me; I turned around to see Cal adjusting a knob on a propane gas tank attached to a portable gas grill. “Your man has read my mind. It may only be quarter to six, but I have worked up an appetite. I’m glad Cal is firin’ up the grill. Let’s go get the burgers and other stuff Starla and I whipped up while you were gone.”
The song changed to AC/DC’s “She’s got the Jack,” and Starla put her hands on Vamp's shoulders and started grinding her pelvis on his. I would need a cocktail or two to dance to AC/DC. I gave Cal a finger wave, and quickly followed Natasha into the RV kitchen.
Chapter 28
Natasha and I finished washing the dishes from our dinner, and now she was getting ready for our night at the Cabbage Patch bar. I needed to do the same, but I realized that during our motorcycle ride of the Loop and stop-off at the park, I had not checked my phone. In theory, there shouldn’t be anybody trying to reach me, but I found that I had a missed call and a voice mail.
With the phone to my ear, I heard Gwen’s voice say, “Mallory, I—”
I looked at the screen of my phone, but the voice mail had fully played. Maybe her phone dropped her call and she didn’t realize it, but I had a nagging feeling about the message. It seemed like her voice was pitched a little higher than normal, and maybe there was panic in her tone, although I could have been projecting that onto her. Reluctantly, I called her back.
The call went to voice mail, so I left a brief message that her earlier call had been dropped and her message cut short. I said I was out of town, and would call her back later in the week. My nagging feeling didn’t subside after placing the call. I rolled my neck and got a comforting crack. I had to put it out of my mind. Like Cal had said when he told me he was taking me to Bike Week, I had no way to get home unless he took me home. With that in mind, I took a deep breath and moved to the bedroom to change my outfit.
The weather was excellent for early March. The high was seventy-seven degrees and the low was only going to be in the sixties. Since I anticipated a huge crowd at this biker bar, I switched out my yellow thermal for a pink Harley-Davidson scoop neck t-shirt with cap sleeves. I would probably be slightly chilly, but at least if I was in a crowd, I wouldn’t be sweating. I kept my jeans, but opted to wear my high-heeled boots instead of the flat-soled boots. I put on my Stella and Dot Rebel necklace, and some dangly silver earrings. Then I swiped both eyes with mascara and put on my red-tinted lip gloss.
I came out of the bathroom and found Cal sprawled on the bed with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. His dirty-blond hair was slightly spiked, and he had changed his Bike Week shirt for a black t-shirt with a huge spade set inside of flames on it. In yellow cursive script the T-shirt read, “Play Like You Ride.” It was a kick-ass shirt, not just because of the image on the front but also because it hugged Cal’s ripped physique all around his biceps and pecs. His eyes opened and his eyes flared when he took in my outfit.
He grinned. “When the hell did you get that sweet-ass shirt? Get your ass over here and kiss your man.”
I shook my head at him, put a knee to the bed, and said, “I went shopping at Adamec during my lunch hour Wednesday.”
I lowered my head, putting my lips to his. Cal rolled me to my back and deepened the kiss substantially. When he pulled away, his lips were stained light red from my lip gloss. I shook my head at him and giggled.
He chucked me under the chin asking, “What’s funny, sweet cheeks?”
“Well, you’re wearing almost as much lip gloss as I am now. You’ve got to stop doing that!”
Cal pecked my lips one last time, stood and took my hand to pull me up next to him. He guided us to the bathroom and inspected our lips. He grabbed a washcloth and wiped his lips. I grabbed my lip gloss from the tiny counter and re-applied it lightly. Cal wound his arms around me from behind and grinned.
“Love the shirt, babe. Tomorrow or the next day, I want to see you on my bike wearing that with some shorts. Got it?”
I liked that idea a lot, so, when I responded, I had a smile on my face. “I got it.”
Cal put on his cut over his T-shirt, then we left the bedroom to find Natasha sitting on one of the sofas texting on her phone. She was decked out in a leopard-print halter top with dangly leopard-print earrings. Her black jeans were skin tight and her feet were encased in four-inch leopard-print heels. Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and she had bangs curled down over her forehead. It was a retro-fifties look enhanced further by her fire-engine-red lipstick.
She looked up from her phone and whistled. “Look at you, Mal. Total biker babe.”
There was a light rap at the door to the RV and when the door opened, Jackie came up the steps into the RV. She was followed by Volt. Jackie was wearing some of the shortest Daisy Dukes I had ever seen, and a red tank top with a tiny bow sitting in the center over her cleavage. Over the tank top she was wearing a black leather cut with a patch on the left shoulder that said DILLIGAF. Her makeup was dramatic, and her long brown hair was curled around her shoulders. Her boots were knee-high black suede with metal accents around the three-inch heels.
She rushed over to where Natasha was sitting and threw her arms up with devil horns. Then she shrieked, “Rock on! I love the retro look, girl! And Mallory, I knew you could pull off biker chic like nobody’s business, but really, that would be hotter with your new Daisy Dukes.”
I felt Cal’s breath at my ear before I heard him say, “You have Daisy Dukes? Tell me I heard that right, woman.”
I tipped my head back and looked at him. “You heard her right. Every girl needs to be informed on what to wear to Bike Week.”
Cal groaned behind me, and then we heard the pocket door to the other bathroom open, and Starla joined us. She was wearing a leather vest that only zipped up to the bottom of her bra line. Her lace bra cups could be seen peeking out from both sides, her breasts straining to escape them. She was wearing black leather pants which left nothing to the imagination. Her black high heels were four-inch stripper shoes. Her mass of natural spiral curls were piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Wisps of curls framed her face, and brought attention to the humongous silver hoop earrings hanging from her ears.
Volt, who was wearing a grey Bike Week t-shirt under his cut, gave Starla a chin lift. He looked at Natasha and me and said, “Ladies.”
Jackie turned to him, and I saw the back of her cut. Surrounding the aggressive Riot MC logo were a top rocker declaring, “PROPERTY OF,” and a bottom rocker reading, “VOLT.” She said to Volt, “I am so excited about tonight, honey!”
Volt gave her a grin. “I’m glad, baby. Are y�
��all ready to go?”
Natasha stood up, and Cal suddenly seemed to realize how high her heels were. He looked at her askance and asked, “You know we’re walkin’ over there?”
Natasha gave him a sideways glare and said, “Don’t worry about me. These shoes and I have been to Vegas for bachelorette parties, conventions, the works. I’ll be fine.”
Jackie turned to Cal and I. She said, “Good shirt choice, Mallory! You look fabulous.”
“You look great yourself. I have to know, what is with the patch on your cut that says, ‘dilligaf?’”
Volt, Cal, and Starla chuckled at me, but Cal rumbled, “‘Do I look like I give a fuck?’ That’s what it means, babe. Pretty standard biker attitude.”
* * * * *
The Cabbage Patch bar was a large, white two-story building that might have been a house back in the 1940’s, but had been converted to a biker bar. I couldn’t believe the sheer number of bikes parked in their lot. It had to be thousands of bikes of all types. Harleys were predominant, but there were occasional Hondas, sport bikes, and a smattering of trikes. The crowd was as expected, a swarm of denim-clad men and scantily-clad women. The age range on the men ran from 21 to possibly 91, no joke.
Due to the massive crowd, it was nearly impossible to get into the main building, so there were numerous tents set up around the property. One tent housed at least thirty or forty picnic tables, and there were four tents dedicated to beer and liquor sales. A tent across from the picnic tables had a stage where a cover band was belting out Guns ‘n’ Roses “Sweet Child o’ Mine.” Cal had his left arm draped around my neck, and I was very close to his side. His hand was hanging dangerously close to my left breast. I didn’t complain, because as we made our way through the crowd, any men who eyed me stopped when they saw Cal’s hand in such a possessive position. Volt, Jackie, and Natasha were behind us. Starla announced she was going to hunt down Vamp and get herself a cocktail, so we had lost her already. Cal guided us to a table where Blood, Abby, Cathy, and Patch were seated.
Abby got up and gave me a hug, and I introduced Natasha to the entire group. Cathy scooted over, making room for Natasha and me to have a seat. Jackie planted herself down next to Abby on the other side of the picnic table. Cal leaned down to Natasha and me asking, “What would you two like to drink?”
I heard Volt ask Jackie if she’d like a Jack and Coke. That sounded like a decent start, so I told Cal, “Jack and diet please.”
Natasha looked at me with an arched eyebrow and then said, “What the hell. Same for me, sir. And thank you.”
Cal returned with our drinks, and I scooted closer to Natasha to make room for him on the end of the bench. Volt came back and sat down next to Jackie, which put him directly across from Patch on the far end of our bench.
I heard Patch boom, “You brothers plan to come back here Wednesday, right? Ain’t no fuckin’ way I’m missin’ the first round of wrestling.”
Cal leaned forward to ask Patch, “What’re you talkin’ about? I thought it was goin’ on tonight.”
Patch shook his head at Cal. “Every year, brother, it’s the same issue with you. Can’t keep your Saturdays straight for shit. The final Saturday of Bike Week is the final round of wrestling. First chance to watch is on Wednesday, which is why I don’t understand why we didn’t just stay in the camp grounds to party.”
I looked at Cal’s disappointed hazel eyes and asked, “So the wrestling you mentioned isn’t tonight?”
Cathy cackled. “Mentioned it to you, did he?”
I looked past Natasha at Cathy and said, “Yeah, but he didn’t tell me much about it. I thought he was talking WWE.”
Jackie and Cathy laughed and the men chuckled. Natasha was looking at everyone at the table with the same confused look I imagined was on my face.
“Well, somebody fill us in,” Natasha demanded impatiently.
Cathy patted Natasha’s arm and said, “They set up a huge-ass tarp, and then they dump a shitload of oil on it. Then since this is the Cabbage Patch, they shred more cabbage than you’ll see in your life and mix it all together to make ‘cole slaw’. Tons of women put their names in to pin another woman in the ‘ring.’ Winner walks away with five hundred smackers.”
Natasha swirled her red swizzle straw in her plastic cup, and then asked, “And this is entertaining, how?”
Blood leaned toward her and said, “Do you know how many ways a bikini can malfunction on a woman who’s slicked up with vegetable oil? And some of those chicks don’t wrestle sober and it gets crazy. Besides, girl-on-girl fight action is always a plus. It’s awesome.”
Cal swallowed the last of his drink. He leveled a look at Blood, then he asked, “You know if Trixie’s gonna take a stab at it again this year?”
I watched Volt shake his head, and Blood ran his hand over his five-o’clock shadow.
“I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask her yourself. She and Melissa were over here ten minutes before y’all showed.”
Natasha finished her drink, and then she climbed off the picnic bench. She looked at my drink and said, “I’d ask if you need another, chica, but I can see that you don’t. Cal, would you like me to bring you one back?”
He nodded and said, “Let me give you some cash.”
Natasha made a ‘tsk’ sound and said, “Nope. You got the first round and you were nice enough to bring me down here, it’s the least I can do.”
Cathy and Abby decided to go to the bathroom after Natasha left, and Blood and Patch decided they would do the same. I thought we’d have a conversation with Jackie and Volt, but I noticed out of the corner of my eye that they were in a liplock that was blooming into a make-out session.
I started trying to people-watch, but Cal’s mouth was next to my ear and he growled, “I find out Trixie’s in the hunt for the five hundred, then I’m entering your ass in the wrestling on Wednesday.”
My eyes bulged and I hissed, “You wouldn’t dare!”
He gave a rumbly chuckle and then his voice filled my ear again. “The idea of watchin’ you try to put Trixie in a full nelson would get me sprung in a New York minute, baby.”
I grimaced. “Gross.”
Cal pulled back from me slightly to poke a finger in my ribs. “You know you wanna.”
Raising an eye brow at him, I said, “I wanna throttle that skank, just not in a cesspool of cabbage with two-hundred-some-odd perverts watching me do it.”
Cal smacked himself in the chest.. “Hey, I’m not a perv!”
“I stand corrected. Not with nearly two hundred horny strangers watching for spank-bank fodder.”
Cal laughed at me. “How would you know anything about a spank-bank?”
I gave him a knowing look. “I used to play cards with Greg and the guys. They talked and I knew better than to try to interrupt their masturbation conversations.”
Natasha chose that moment to return with drinks.. “Who’s talkin’ about masturbation? I want in on this conversation. Leon is out of commission until he heals up. I could use some creative pointers.”
I gave Cal an accusing look. “See what you started?”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not the one who brought up spank-banks, sweet cheeks.”
I had the fleeting thought that our conversation couldn’t get any stranger, when Vamp planted his ass directly across from Cal.
He eyed Natasha and me, but asked Cal, “Who brought up spank-banks?”
Starla seated herself next to Vamp and gave us a sly grin. “Yeah, there’s an interesting conversation.”
Luckily, we were saved by Natasha’s taste in rock music. The cover band started playing Godsmack’s “Whatever,” and Natasha grabbed me by the arm and we moved to the stage area. We were practically the only two women dancing, which is to say, more like moshing, to the music, but that didn’t faze us. After twenty seconds of music and our dancing, there were over half a dozen other women dancing next to us. Midway through the song there must have been close to t
wo dozen people dancing, since some of the women brought their men along with them. Abby and Blood were among us, as was Starla, though Vamp seemed to be skirting the edge, standing near Cal.
When the song ended, Vamp and Cal were not where I last saw them. Natasha left to get a beer, and Starla and I were ambling out of the dancing area. The band was playing a cover of the Rolling Stones’ “Beast of Burden,” and while I was a Stones fan, I didn’t have it in me to dance to that song after a hard-core version of “Whatever.” We stopped in between two picnic tables, and I scanned the crowd to find Cal and Vamp. My body stiffened and I felt my lips press together.
Cal was standing just under the tent with his arm around Melissa, and his mouth was against her ear. She saw me and gave me a catty grin. Starla noticed my stiffness and then followed my gaze.
She put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Honey, it probably isn’t what you think.”
I gave her my most skeptical look and said, “Really?”
I thought about approaching them, but then I noticed Melissa had her mouth to his ear, and I couldn’t stomach watching anything else.
“Are we able to use real restrooms inside the bar? I gotta get to a bathroom and a sink,” I explained to Starla.
She put her arm around me and said, “Sure, hon. I know the way.”
Five minutes later, my urge to vomit had subsided and I pulled the latch on the restroom stall. Starla was leaning against the wall near the paper towel dispenser waiting on me. I moved to the sink to wash my hands. As I bent toward the sink I noticed Starla was directly behind me and she had something narrow and black in her hand, raised above her head. It didn’t register with me what was going on until it was too late. I stupidly watched the police-style baton come crashing down on the back of my head. As I collapsed on the filthy floor, I vaguely thought I heard an older male voice say, “Well done, my dear. Time is of the essence. Come, come.” Then all went black.
Chapter 29
I woke up with the worst hangover headache. I didn’t think I had that much to drink last night. The light in the room was dim so I thought it might be dawn. I took a deep breath and realized I was lying on my stomach, but not fully so. It was as if I had been on my side, but then someone tried to force me to my belly,only my arms were stretched out at an angle preventing my fully being rolled to my belly. I realized my wrists were handcuffed. Then all of last night came racing back into my pain-ridden head.
