by Jessie Cooke
“Well then, I guess I’m ready,” she said, standing up. She was wearing jeans, a short-sleeved t-shirt with a line from a classic movie, The Breakfast Club, on it. It said, “Don’t you forget about me.” She’d put on her hiking boots since they would be at the lake and there had been a lot of rain up that way, and her hair was in a thick braid on the side of her head. “What do you think?”
“You’re so beautiful. Be careful, or that boy is going to fall in love. The French are very passionate people.”
Marissa laughed. “Okay, Mom, I’ll be careful. So, who is this French woman you knew and didn’t like?”
“Who?”
“You told Maz you knew a French woman once and you didn’t like her.” Marissa’s mother’s face fell, and she was quiet for a long time. Finally, she said:
“I think I hear him.”
“Are you avoiding the question?”
“Sort of, but really, I think I hear him.” Marissa heard the faint sound of a motorcycle approaching, and Roxy’s ears were already standing up. As it got closer, Roxy jumped off the bed and ran out of the room. Marissa and Rhonda followed her. She was waiting at the door, wagging her tail before Maz even shut off the bike. Marissa had to pick her up to be able to open the door. The sight of Maz, in his leather kutte and a black-and-white skullcap, made her heart speed up. His features drew her in. His eyes were deep brown and she felt like if she looked into them for too long she might get lost. He had thick lips and an amazing smile…and of course there was the accent.
“Hey,” Maz said as Roxy tried desperately to wiggle out of her arms. Marissa put her down and said:
“Hi.” Suddenly Roxy was all over him, jumping up and hitting his legs with her paws. “Roxy, stop.” Maz bent down and as soon as he touched her she rolled onto her back, practically insisting he rub her belly, which he did. Marissa laughed. “I think she missed you.”
“Ah, she probably just smells the other one.” He stood up and looked past Marissa at Rhonda. “Hello, Mrs. Williams, how are you?”
“I’m doing well Maz, it’s good to see you again. Would you like to come in?”
He looked at Marissa. “You look great, but if you’re still getting ready…”
“No, I’m ready. I’m just going to grab a jacket.” Maz stepped inside while she went to do that. She heard her mother asking where he was from originally as she left the room. When she came back, Rhonda was dead silent and staring out the window. “Mom? Are you okay?”
“Huh? Oh, yes! Oh, I’m sorry, Maz. I do that sometimes…I was lost in my head for a minute. Yes, Marissa, I’m fine. You two go and have fun…and be careful!”
“Thank you, ma’am, we will,” Maz told her. Marissa said goodbye to her mom and followed Maz outside. His bike looked even bigger to her in the daylight…more intimidating. He must have seen the look on her face because he said, “You’ll be okay, I promise.” She was happy to see an extra helmet hanging from his handlebars, and that he had a backrest…or, as she thought she’d heard them called, “sissy bars.” She would feel a little safer with something to lean into. Maz handed her one of the helmets and straddled the bike. He picked up his helmet and said, “I’ll start it, and then just use my shoulder to hang onto and throw your leg over, okay?”
“Okay,” she said in a shaky voice. She put on the helmet and as she buckled it and realized it fit perfectly, she wondered who it belonged to. She thought about all the women who were at the club the other day and she wondered how many of them had ridden his Harley…how many had ridden him. She shook off those thoughts, reminding herself that it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to get into a relationship with him and she sure as hell wasn’t going to fall in love. She put her hand on his shoulder and felt his muscles tighten. He had one hell of a body and she was about to be squished up against it. She wasn’t sure exactly how she felt about that…but she was pretty sure Gregor would reap the benefits later. He started the engine and the loud rumble startled her. He smiled and with as much bravery as she could muster, she swung her leg over the bike behind him and settled down on the seat.
Talking loudly so she could hear him he said, “Push your weight into the sissy bar and wiggle around until you’re comfortable. Then put your feet on the pegs and hold onto me…tight.” She did what he told her to, unable to find a space where her crotch wasn’t pressed right up against him. Finally realizing that being modest as a passenger on a Harley wasn’t going to work, she stopped moving and placed her hands on his waist…gently. He turned his head and she could see his smile as he said, “Wrap them all the way around. I won’t bite you, I promise. I don’t want to lose you.” She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around his waist, linking her hands together against his stomach in front. “Now, when I take off, just lean into my back. You can stay up against me or you can lean into the turns too if it’s more comfortable, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. She felt him move his leg to kick the bike into gear and she laid her head into his shoulder as he gave the bike some gas. He pulled out of her driveway so smoothly that it was almost like gliding. Once they were on the street and picking up speed, she could feel the wind whipping around them…and the vibration between her legs that her mother was talking about. It did feel powerful…and since she was so close to the man, who smelled amazing, by the way, it was almost sensual. They drove for about half a mile before he slowed down for a stop sign. She was almost disappointed they had to stop until she felt him cover her hands with his and slide them up so that she was holding onto his hard chest. He took off again and she couldn’t help but wonder if riding a Harley was this erotic for everyone, or only those losers who hadn’t had sex in over five years.
7
As they got on the freeway the bike’s vibrations settled smoothly between her legs and she reveled in the strange quietness all around them. The mountain scenery was beautiful as they climbed and she was surprised at how smoothly he maneuvered the two-lane curvy road. He felt so good in her arms, and another realization that dawned on her was this was the closest she had been to a man in a very long time. The lust that flooded her system was confusing. She barely knew him, but she felt overwhelmed by almost everything about him. Maybe it was just the freedom of being on the back of the bike…the way it filled her core with excitement. She wasn’t sure, but she was almost disappointed when she saw the sign for the lake up ahead and he began to slow down.
Maz pulled the bike off the road and into a small parking lot. There was a picnic area alongside the lake and not far away a playground for the kids with swings and monkey bars. A few families were picnicking and barbecuing, but the areas were spaced out enough that they would still have plenty of privacy wherever they chose to sit. Maz let her climb off the bike first and she had to continue holding onto him for several long seconds before her legs stopped vibrating. She was taking off her helmet when he climbed off the bike. He put his helmet on the handlebars and took hers out of her hands and did the same with it.
“So, what did you think?” he asked her.
She couldn’t hide the joyful smile on her face. “I loved it,” she said.
He smiled back and said, “Good. I knew you would. I hope you’re hungry.”
He opened his saddlebags and Marissa was surprised to see how much food he pulled out of them. He had two cold packs and a paper sack that looked stuffed full. He carried them as they walked to the closest empty table. It was under a large shade tree and they had a beautiful view of the lake. Maz set the food down and as they both sat, he started pulling things out, packed in Ziploc baggies, Tupperware bowls, and mason jars. “Okay,” he said. “The sandwiches are all for you if you want them. They’re turkey and cheese. There’s condiments in here,” he said, turning the paper sack upside down and pouring out packets of mayo and mustard. He put a Ziploc bag full of potato chips in front of her too and then opened a Tupperware container filled with fruit. There was another Ziploc with salami and cheese that he set in front of her as well.
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“Wow…um, it looks great but surely this isn’t all mine?”
“Well, yeah. I brought food for me too, and you’re welcome to share mine. I just have to warn you that it’s really light on carbs and sugar.” He took another sack out of the cold pack and started listing off what he had there. “These are pulled chicken and pickled veggie wraps, a tomato salad, a cauliflower-potato salad and these,” he said pointing at the mason jars, “are key lime cheesecakes. One is for you.”
“This might be the most well-thought-out picnic lunch I’ve ever been a part of,” she said, with a smile. “Did you make all of this?”
“Not alone,” he said. “My president, Wolf – his old lady helped me. She showed me how to do the cheesecakes. They’re already portioned that way so I’m not tempted to eat too much.”
“That’s cool…but you don’t look to me like you need to be on a diet. Is it for working out or…?” Maz reached down to his waist and Marissa nearly fell off her seat when he lifted the edge of his t-shirt. “I’m diabetic,” he said. “Type 1.”
“You’re diabetic?”
“Yep, since I was a kid.”
“Wow…you’re just one coincidence after the other, aren’t you?”
He smiled. “I hope you’re not as suspicious of this as you were the pup.”
She laughed. “I’m sorry. That was just so strange. I mean here I’d been thinking about…” She seemed to catch herself but Maz took a chance and said:
“Thinking about me?”
Her face flushed and she said, “Yes. I had thought about you and wondered if you would call…and then you did, and you had my dog…I was blown away. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was suspicious.”
“Another reason to admire your brains,” he said. “I would have been suspicious too. As far as the diabetes, your mom told me about hers that day, so I get that coincidence as well…but this I’m not faking, I promise.”
She laughed. “I can’t imagine anyone who would want to. Did one of your parents have diabetes?”
“Yes, my biological mother,” he said. He felt so happy and at peace there with Marissa that he didn’t want to talk about the woman, so he changed the subject. “So where do you work?”
“I work at Target. I manage the customer service department.”
“So…you have to spend the day listening to customers complain?” he said with a grin.
“Yeah, pretty much. But honestly, I don’t have it so bad. I spend most of my time in an office, doing scheduling, hiring and firing, budgets, things like that. What about you? What do you do for a living?”
Explaining the club to people that knew nothing about it was hard sometimes. “Well, I pretty much do whatever my president asks me to do,” Maz told her. “Right now, we’re building a new clubhouse on some property we bought just above Fresno in the foothills. We also have a gym where a lot of MMA fighters train and we hold exhibition fights to help the new fighters build their skills and reputation, and I do a lot of the bodyguard/bouncer stuff there. I work in the shop too a day or two a week…kind of a jack-of-all-trades. My profession, though, if I had to pick one, is masonry. My dad is a mason and he did some awesome concrete work on a lot of the buildings in New Orleans.”
“You’re from New Orleans?”
“Yes, it’s where I grew up.”
“My mom lived there for a while when she was young. She ran away from home, got on a bus, and that’s where she ended up for a while. She said she hated it there but stayed for two years only for the beignets.”
He laughed. “Well, if you’ve ever had one from Café du Monde, you’d understand. It’s a diabetic’s nightmare, but damn, they’re just about worth dying for!”
“Yeah, Mom didn’t take very good care of her diabetes before I came along. She says I saved her life, calls me her little miracle.”
Maz smiled. He knew what it was to feel that kind of love, thanks to Elise…but sometimes he still felt hurt and resentful toward the woman that had left him and never looked back. “I knew you were special,” he said with a wink. “But yes, it’s harder when you’re young, I think, because you want so badly to be like everyone else. I used to drink, a lot. I actually got really sick before I left New Orleans because I was partying so much and not taking care of myself, and I ended up in the hospital almost dead. I didn’t have a sudden epiphany or anything, but it sure was an eye-opener that I had to make some changes in my life.”
“How long have you been in California?”
“About eight years now.”
“You just needed a change?”
He knew she was only trying to get to know him, but he really, really didn’t want to talk about his mother, which was exactly why he’d come to California. He’d almost died, and he thought that was somehow a sign that he needed to find her. Elise had her last known address in California and she’d given it to him…but he’d never made it there.
“Yeah, I really did. I had a good life there, but I’d gotten out of control with the partying. New Orleans never sleeps and it was one party after the other when I wasn’t working.”
She smiled and said, “Being in an MC is better?”
He laughed. “You wouldn’t think from what you see on television and read, I’m sure. But yes…it actually is, at least now. When I first got out here I met a man that we called Coyote. He was the president of the Westside Skulls then. We met in a restaurant…and anyway, he found out I was a mason and he needed some concrete work done on his shop. He hired me and I just kind of stuck. Right before I got patched in, Coyote died and Wolf was voted in as president.”
“Coyote, Wolf…Ransom…such interesting names. So, is Maz your real name, or is it…what’s it called? A road name?”
“Maz is a shortened version of my road name. Coyote used to call me Mad Zane when he was drunk, which was a lot there toward the end of his life; he slurred it to Maz and that’s what stuck.”
“So your real name is Zane?”
He nodded. The name was the only thing he still had left that his biological mother gave him, that and the diabetes, and the fucking stupid curly hair. He couldn’t get rid of the disease and he wasn’t ready to shave his head, so he’d given up the name instead. “So anyway, I finally grew up enough to start taking care of my health, at least most of the time. I still drink a few beers and every now and then a whiskey, but I eat right and I exercise and I pay attention to my blood sugars. This monitor helps, reminds me when I get busy. My maman…well, she adopted me, actually, so she’s my real mother…but anyway, she did a lot of work to teach me things growing up that I didn’t think I was paying attention to, but it stuck. She still sends me recipes and checks in on me a lot…” He laughed. “Too much sometimes.”
“That’s great. So she and your dad are still in Louisiana?”
“Yeah, I don’t think they’ll ever leave. She’s the reason I have this accent. She’s from Paris, born and raised. She barely spoke English when she and my dad got married. She taught me how to talk.” He laughed. “For what it’s worth. Then living in New Orleans, I picked up a lot of the slang from some of the French Creole kids I hung out with, so it makes me a little harder for people out here to understand. And then sometimes I forget to speak English all together. The guys make fun of me for that a lot.”
“I can understand you fine,” she said with a smile. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what made you choose California to settle?” He didn’t mind her asking…but he didn’t really want to get into it either. He took a bite of his chicken wrap, washed it down with a drink of water, and said:
“Originally, I came out to look up my biological mother. I guess I thought…I don’t know, because of being sick and all of that, I just felt like it was time.”
“Oh wow. Did you find her?” Marissa’s eyes were suddenly lit up and Maz wondered why she was so interested. He had made the decision in a moment of weakness to find her while he was pissed at his dad for being on his ass about taking care of himself after
he almost died…but two thousand miles on his bike had cooled him down, and he called his dad and apologized, and gave up on finding her. After thirty years, what would she say that would change anything anyway? Before he could get the words together in his head he heard a kid’s voice yell:
“Heads up!” He saw the ball flying toward the back of Marissa’s head just in time to reach up and bat it away. It was a hard, rubber ball and he felt the sting on the back of his hand. He was happy as hell it hadn’t hit her. Marissa squealed, and a little girl appeared next to the table. “I’m sorry, lady, my brother threw it to me but I missed it.”
Marissa smiled at the little girl and said, “It’s okay honey, it didn’t hit me.”
“He saved you,” the little girl said, smiling up at Maz.
Marissa smiled at her and said, “He sure did.” Something in her eyes made him glad he was sitting down. His knees were weak and his core was tight. He was going to fall for this one…hard.
8
Maz and Marissa spent the day walking along the lake, throwing around a ball that he found, and just talking. She told him about Charity and how they’d bonded in high school. He had a hard time understanding what Marissa saw in the snobby, rich girl, but he was willing to keep his mouth shut about it. Everything about her, other than her best friend, was perfect. It was one of the best days he’d had in so long that he couldn’t remember a better one.
It was almost dark before they left Shaver. The drive home was peaceful with very little traffic. He loved having Marissa holding onto him and hugging him most of all. His only problem, if he had to come up with one, was that the snake kept insisting on rearing his head. He fought the impulse to pull over to the side of the road and just kiss her at least a dozen times on the way down the hill.
