Biker Chicks: An Anthology of Hot MC Romance

by AJ Downey

  To say their ways confused me would’ve been the understatement of the year. I spent half the time I was around them intrigued, the other half repelled.

  “Should get a picture of this,” he said, digging out his phone. “My badass biker chick.”

  I smirked. “Yeah, so badass I’m nervous about riding around a parking lot.”

  “My first ride was in a parking lot,” he said. “You gotta start somewhere.” He held up his phone and snapped a picture. I smiled for it.

  Gabriel confused me too. He was endlessly patient with me, never once losing his temper even in the face of all my issues...which were many. I got irrationally jealous whenever another girl talked to him. I both loved and hated his cooking because it encouraged me to eat, something I’d never had a healthy relationship with. And sometimes I just couldn’t deal with his friends; they were aggressive and rough, and there were days I didn’t want to be around them. Other times I got clingy, wanting him nearby just so I had someone to talk to. I was sure all that had to cause him trouble and I knew it had to be annoying, but he never once complained.

  At night I often watched him sleep, tracing his many scars with my fingertips and wondering where they had come from. He didn’t talk about his past before moving to Washington; I knew it hadn’t been nice. His scars came from bullets and knives, from people trying to kill him. I had a hard time understanding how a guy who’d run with criminals his whole life could still have sympathy for my problems.

  I’d been teased. He’d been beaten, stabbed, shot. I’d hated high school; he’d never gotten the chance to go. Privilege was a popular topic on campus, but people usually talked about the ones they didn’t have. Being with Gabriel had forced me to look at the ones I did.

  “Come on over here,” I said. “I want one with you in it.”

  He wandered over and slid an arm around me. I held my phone out and snapped a picture, both of us with me on his bike, one hand on the throttle.

  “Good pic,” he said when I showed it to him. He grinned. “My badass little biker chick.”

  I smiled back, and for once I didn’t blush.

  I’d never liked how my anxieties had run my life, but going out with Gabriel had sharpened my want to put an end to that. My life had been full of people who’d made me feel bad because I had problems, pushed me and shamed me because of who I was; Gabriel took me as I was, and because of that I wanted to be better than I was.

  He showed me respect. I wanted to be worthy of it.

  “Can I do another lap?”

  He patted me on the shoulder. “Go for it,” he said.

  I fired up the engine.

  I stepped off the bus at the stop near Gabriel’s place, eyeing my surroundings with care. The auto shop he lived above was in a sketchy neighborhood and going there alone was a risk. I shouldered my purse and made sure not to spill the Styrofoam carton in my hand; takeout from Union Square Grill, a meal that had cost most of my spending money. It was worth the price. I wanted to drop in and surprise him with a dinner he didn’t have to cook. And it was only five blocks from the bus stop to his apartment.

  I set off, doing my best to follow all the advice I’d been given over the years by people about being female and in a tough neighborhood; walk like you have someplace to be, stay aware, don’t let anyone get too close. It was late, near sundown, and I couldn’t help but notice there weren’t too many people on the street. On the surface this was a relief, but a vague part of my mind was uneasy.

  On the third block, I picked up followers; two young Hispanic men, one large and the other shorter than me, both dressed in loose pants and jackets with fur trim. They had matching yellow bandannas.

  “Hey there,” the small one said. “Want some company?” He was no older than nineteen, with shiny black hair and the beginnings of a mustache.

  I walked faster; so did they. Sweat broke out along my spine.

  “Aw c’mon, mama...why ya gotta be like that?”

  He tried to step in front of me. I got around him despite how he made a grab for my arm. I only had one more block to go and I hoped to hell Gabriel was home. The big one said something in Spanish; I didn’t speak the language, but I knew what puta meant. My stomach churned.

  “What, we ain’t good enough for ya?” His tone had gone ugly.

  I crossed the street, hoping against hope they wouldn’t follow. They did, the big one taking five big steps to get in front of me before I could hit the curb. I looked around; there was no one around but me and them.

  “Stuck-up white bitches shouldn’t come around here,” said the little one.

  “I don’t have any money,” I said, voice shaking.

  He sneered. “What, you think we gonna mug you?” he pushed me; I lost my grip on the takeout box, contents spilling out all over the sidewalk. “Stupid cunt.” The big one kicked the box with a grin, turning two weeks of spending money into garbage.

  It was just like high school, only worse.

  “Cut that shit out.”

  I was always happy to see Gabriel, but never more than right then. The two boys fanned out, ignoring me in favor of a new target; I scrambled to get behind him.

  The little one puffed out his chest. “The fuck’s your problem?”

  “That’s my lady,” Gabriel said. “Back off.”

  “Yeah?” the smaller one said, stepping closer and pulling up his shirt. A revolver was tucked into his waistband. The back of my neck turned to ice. “What now assho-“

  Gabriel snatched the pistol from his belt and hit him with it. The boy flew back and hit the ground, mouth bloody. The bigger one charged; Gabriel kneed him in the groin and head-butted him in the face, sending him to the pavement next to his partner, flipping the pistol around –

  –so he could point it down the alley to his right at two more gang bangers who had stepped out of cover. He thumbed back the hammer. They froze, their hands near their sweatshirt pockets.

  “Pull on me,” said Gabriel, “and I’ll put you down.”

  A long second ticked by. The smaller tough moaned in agony, blood and white fragments dribbling down his chin, the remnants of teeth. I almost threw up. This isn’t real. This can’t be happening. Slowly Gabriel opened his leather jacket, showing the two gang bangers his Freak Patrol t-shirt.

  “You looking to start shit with the Jester?” His voice was level, calm...and cold as a glacier.

  “Fuck,” the ugly-faced one muttered.

  The other grinned, spreading his hands. He too had a yellow bandanna on, tied so low on his forehead it all but covered his eyes. “Easy there, hombre. This ain’t no beef.” He pointed with his chin to where the two boys lay bleeding. “Just a little misunderstanding, y’know?” The other one did as his partner had, straightening up and taking his hand away from his pocket.

  Gabriel de-cocked the pistol, let it point skyward. “Okay.”

  “We gonna have a problem?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “Books balance.” He snapped open the revolver with a flick of his wrist and dumped the shells out on the sidewalk.

  “Good to know.”

  “Don’t think these two are up to par.” He tossed the empty pistol to the speaker.

  “I think you right,” the guy replied.

  My heart pounded in my chest as Gabriel took my arm, led me backward away from them; the two gang members circled away likewise, smiling in a way that didn’t touch their eyes. Nobody moved to help the two bleeding on the sidewalk. “We’re just leaving them like that?”

  “They’d do the same for us,” he said. “Hush now.”

  It was a tense, silent walk back to his apartment. I was sick to my stomach, dizzy from the adrenaline pumping through my system. Gabriel’s face was grim as he shut the door behind us and locked it. “Good thing I stepped out for a smoke.”

  I didn’t reply. My hands were clenched tight and I couldn’t relax them. All I could see in my mind’s eye was blood and teeth; all I could hear was Gabriel’s cold voice. You
pull on me and I’ll put you down. I’d never seen him be that way, ever.

  “Sorry they scared you,” he said.

  “They didn’t scare me,” I heard myself say. “You scared me.” I took a shuddering breath. “I mean holy crap...you were like the goddamn Terminator.”

  “Had to be done,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “That was a gang initiation, Lys.” He dug in his pocket and came out with a cigarette. “Latin Kings. Those two were looking to prove themselves. They wouldn’t have backed off.” He lit up. I couldn’t believe how calm he was. Somehow that made it all worse.

  I shook, unsteady on my feet. “D-did you have to be so brutal?”

  “There were two of them,” he said. “One was bigger than me, the other had a piece and they had backup. Shit like that goes down, you end it real fucking quick.”

  I hugged myself, as if I could squeeze my heart into not beating so hard. “I’ve seen a fight before, at a frat party...it was nothing like that.” I shivered. “I blinked and I think I missed half of it.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “What you seen was dick-waving,” he said. “What just happened was a fight. Big difference.”

  I shook my head. “God...”

  He stubbed out his cigarette and took me in his arms. “Easy honey, it’s over. Now, what were you doing out there by yourself?”

  A tear slid down my cheek. “I wanted to bring you dinner,” I said, voice shaking. “You always cook for me...I wanted it to be a surprise...” More tears.

  He sighed. “Lys, I told you. This ain’t a nice neighborhood.”

  “I know,” I said, wiping at my nose. “I just...I thought it would be okay.” I sniffled, hating how I was such a wreck. “I feel really stupid.”

  He ran his hands through my hair, pulling me closer. “It’s okay,” he said.

  We stood in silence for a long time, him holding me and me clinging to him.

  “Still say you were like the Terminator,” I said.

  “Maybe,” he said, “but I’m your Terminator.” He pressed a finger against my chest.

  “So you have to do what I say?”

  He grinned. “One of my mission parameters.”

  “Take me riding,” I said.

  “No problemo.”

  He did.

  All I’d seen of him up until that day had been a big teddy bear; blunt-spoken and rough, but gentle and patient, like an old-fashioned cowboy. I couldn’t reconcile it with what I’d just seen him do. Those two boys would need a hospital, and he’d put them there with less hesitation than most people would’ve shown while squashing a spider. No remorse, no regret. Pull on me and I’ll put you down. He would’ve done it, too. I’d heard it in his voice...or rather, not heard something that should have been there.

  The moment forced me to confront other realities, ones I’d been refusing to look at because being with him had made me so happy. More than once he’d come to pick me up sporting bruises or skinned knuckles; “rough night on the job” was all he’d say about it, and I’d often wondered what ‘job’ he referred to.

  Every time I’d told myself it was from bouncing, but I suspected he did more than that for a living. He did something for the Freak Patrol that he didn’t share with me; I knew it from the way the members talked about him, called him “Hannibal” and treated him with more respect than the other hangers-on.

  We went on a long ride together, had dinner together, made love in the familiar bed, snuggled up close; all the while he was his usual friendly self, the guy I’d fallen for and wanted to be with. I wished that it comforted me, but all it did was sharpen my unease.

  “Gabriel,” I said softly, head tucked against his shoulder, “how did you see the two guys in the alley?”

  “I didn’t,” he said. “I just knew they were there.”

  “How?”

  His shoulders moved in a shrug. “Where I’d be, if I were them.”

  I traced the line of a scar on his cheek. “You were them, once.”

  He took my hand in his; his left, with 6:4 scribed on it. In a spare moment I’d looked up the numbers. It was a Bible verse; Revelations chapter six, verse four. The words came back to me then.

  ...and then out came a fiery horse. Its rider was empowered to take peace from the earth so that people would slaughter one another, and he was given a mighty sword.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “You ever think about...about quitting?”

  “The life?” he shrugged. “I tried once. Didn’t work out.”

  “Why not try again?”

  He sighed. “Lys, to the world you know I’m a dumb white-trash thug who ain’t never going to amount to much more than a janitor.” He pointed to where his vest sat draped over a chair. “To that world, I’m a man of honor.”

  “You want to patch in,” I said.

  “I do.”

  There was so much I didn’t know about him, so much he wouldn’t say...and from what I’d seen of the outlaw world, most of it was stuff I’d never be told no matter how long I stayed with him or how close we became, even if I married him and got “PROPERTY OF HANNIBAL” tattooed on my throat. I’d been telling myself I’d get used to it. I wanted to, but even the warm circle of his arms couldn’t keep me from the truth.

  I didn’t know how.

  I sat alone in my kitchen, a pile of used tissues on the table in front of me. I wiped my nose with a fresh one, feeling a sting as it dragged across raw redness. My chest hurt from crying, but I couldn’t stop. It had been four hours since I’d gotten home, four hours since the tears had started. Four hours since I’d told Gabriel I couldn’t be with him anymore.

  It had been two weeks since the gang kids had attacked me, and in that time all I could think about was how and when to do the deed. It had turned our time together from a happy thing into an awkward thing, and finally he’d called me on it. The scene played in my head like a film, one with an ending I didn’t like.

  “Lys,” he’d said, “what’s in your head?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You been different ever since you got jumped,” he’d said. “Distant, like.”

  “It scared me.”

  “In the life we got a saying,” he’d said. “Any one you walk away from still breathing – ”

  “No, Gabriel.” I’d struggled with my next words. “No more tough-guy talk. I can’t do it. I just...can’t.”

  There had been a long silence.

  “You’re fixing to leave me,” he’d said softly. “Ain’t you.”

  The words hadn’t come. I’d only nodded.

  Another long silence had passed.

  “Thought so,” he’d said. His face had been blank, remote. Please cry, I’d thought. Yell at me. Say something mean. I’d wanted him to do something, anything, to show me that it mattered to him, that my leaving hurt. I’d opened my mouth to yell at him...and then I’d realized something that had made it all worse. He hadn’t cried or yelled or acted hurt because he knew it already hurt me. So he’d done what he’d always done when the world was too much for me to handle; he’d been my rock.

  I’d sucked it up and done the same thing. I hadn’t cried and I hadn’t yelled. I was proud of myself for that.

  “Will you miss me?”

  “Would you miss your arm, somebody done went and cut it off?” His accent had been thick, thicker than it usually was. It had hurt him to watch me go. I’d seen it and heard it in the small things.

  More tears came out as I remembered what he’d said when I’d asked him why.

  He’d sighed. “In the life, I gotta be wary all the damn time. Tough and careful and all that shit. ‘Fore you came along, it was either that or be by myself. When you’re here, I get to relax and be around somebody.”

  “...and that’s worth as much your arm?”

  He’d nodded.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Might as well ask why diamonds are worth so much.”

 
Peace. That was what I’d given him. It seemed so small, and maybe in my world it was, just like the respect he’d shown me was such a basic part of his.

  “I don’t want this,” I’d told him.

  “You wanna be an old lady?”

  I’d shaken my head.

  “Then there ain’t no other way,” he’d said

  “Why?”

  “What we got’s built on lookin’ each other in the eye, Lys. I go your way or you go mine, somebody’s givin’ something they ain’t getting back. Means we lose it, the thing that makes us us.” He’d paused, struggling with his words. “If that happens, what the fuck is the point?”

  There hadn’t been anything I could say to that.

  I’d collected the few belongings I’d kept at his place: spare clothes and some feminine products. I’d paused at the framed picture he’d hung on the wall, the one I’d taken on the day he’d taught me to ride.

  “Leave it,” he’d said.

  He’d walked with me to the bus stop, stood in silence while we waited for it to come. I’d wanted to tell him I’d stay in touch, but I knew that wouldn’t work. I knew me; I’d miss his touch and I’d want to go back...but the reasons I was leaving would still be there, and it would hurt us both all over again.

  When the bus had pulled up, I’d turned to him, wanting to say something, but everything I could think to say had already been said.

  “Piece of advice?”

  I’d nodded.

  “The world takes what it takes,” he’d told me. “It’s something you learn on the wrong side of the tracks.” He’d touched my cheek. “But there’s what it takes, and there’s what you let it take.” A smile. “World’s taking you away, and I can’t do nothin’ about that. But it don’t get to take the good times. Those are mine, and I mean to keep ‘em.”

  “Oh Gabriel...” I’d almost lost it right then. I’d wanted to. But if he could keep it together, so could I.

  “You’ll miss your bus,” he’d said.

  As it had pulled away I’d pressed my nose to the glass and watched him stand on the curb and wave, just like I’d watched the bikers in high school. Then the bus turned a corner and he was out of sight.