Frozen Rain: Royal Bastards MC Anchorage Chapter

by Genovese, CM

  Or is it a plus-sized Wolverine?

  Standing beside Beezus was Rain. He slapped a hand against Beezus’s shoulder and whispered something into his ear.

  Beezus said, “Rain wants to know what’s the problem.”

  “What are you, a ventriloquist dummy?” Horace asked. “Got the big man speaking for you?”

  Two of Horace’s friends stepped up alongside him. They were bigger than the douchebag cowboy. So now, it was three against the two bikers. But over Rain’s shoulder I could see his brothers tensing up. This wouldn’t be a fair fight, and it was all because I’d been offered a beer and refused.

  “Rain, Beezus, it’s fine,” Cubby said.

  “Cubby, you let my boys handle this,” BP hollered from his table and didn’t move. “You got a business to run. You can’t be getting mixed up in this bullshit. That’s what we’re here for… to take out your trash.”

  “Who you callin’ trash, you motherfu—” Horace started to say, but his voice caught in his throat when Rain suddenly lashed out and smashed his knuckles against the cowboy’s throat.

  Horace wheezed and tried to swing, but Beezus caught his arm in one hand, grabbed him by the throat with the other, and hoisted him into the air. He ran toward the door, carrying the cowboy like he was weightless. He was a ragdoll in the giant’s hand.

  Most of the music that night went by in a blur, but one song stuck out because of the irony of the situation. As Beezus threw the man out the door, a song I hadn’t heard since I was a kid started with the typical whine that accompanied most of the band’s songs. It clashed with all the other classic rock anthems, but there couldn’t have been a more fitting song for this moment than Cypress Hill’s ‘I Ain’t Goin’ Out Like That’.

  Everyone ran outside to see the aftermath. The cowboy’s buddies were out there first, but none of them made a move when they saw the big man towering over the fallen Horace.

  Sue held my hand and pulled me around to the side so I could see. “This is biker law,” she whispered. “Royal Bastards law I guess you’d say. Cubby is like family. You don’t fuck with their family.”

  But Cubby was only sticking up for me.

  Rain stepped out of the bar. The rest of the bikers remained inside. It seemed they weren’t concerned about their two brothers outside taking care of business. I could see why. They weren’t afraid of these chumps and didn’t seem to have any problems handling them.

  “Hey, everybody get back inside before the cops get called,” Cubby said as he stepped out of the bar.

  Rain held up a hand to quiet him. He nodded at Beezus. The cowboy turned over and was on all fours on the ground, trying to climb to his feet but he was on a frozen puddle turned black ice. He slipped and went down onto his chest.

  “You know where a ventriloquist puts his hand when he’s handling a dummy?” Beezus asked.

  It was a rhetorical question as he suddenly grabbed the back of the man’s collar in one hand, shoved his other hand right up between Horace’s legs, making sure to slam his giant forearm against the cowboy’s ass while grabbing his balls and sliding him across the ice, face first. The cowboy howled and Beezus let go of him like a bowling ball headed toward ten pins. Horace slid across the ground, hit the pavement, and struggled to get up.

  His face was a mess. His cheek was scraped up and bloody from its contact with the ice and it looked like his nose might be broken. He’d definitely feel it in the morning.

  “Now, get the fuck outta here,” Beezus ordered.

  As Rain turned to head back into the bar, he grinned at me and winked. I heard him whisper to Cubby, “Give the cute brunette all the beers she wants… on me.”

  He thinks you’re cute. No, Cassie. Don’t go there. He’s an asshole. He’s a flirtatious asshole who’s used to getting what he wants.

  I didn’t have to buy another drink that night. Cubby wouldn’t let me. Yet, I didn’t want to take advantage of the offer, so as I originally planned, I drank two more before asking Sue if we could call it a night. Rain hadn’t so much as glanced back at me all that time, and that bothered me more than anything.

  He thinks you’re cute, but he can’t even be bothered to look at you? Dammit. Asshole!

  By the time we were leaving, I realized I was way too concerned about his lack of attention. It infuriated me that he’d stick up for me, buy me drinks, and not even smile back at me once or twice.

  Later, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about the VFW and that rowdy group of bikers. Some of them had women with them. The ones who didn’t had the few women in the bar coming to sit on their laps within a few minutes of arriving. That lifestyle was so different from mine, and I couldn’t help thinking of Kinsey again. She’d fallen into that world and loved it.

  You’re not here to fall for a biker. You’re here to work with wayward kids. Remember that.

  Still, as my bare legs scraped each other under the warmth of my newly purchased heavy down feather comforter, I squeezed my legs together tightly and felt that pinch of pleasure down in my pussy.

  How different would tonight be if you’d told that guy your name and had been a little nicer? Or, if when he offered to buy all your beers, you asked him to come drink one with you? No, he called you a bitch, remember?

  Still, the thought of that stubbly beard between my legs… damn. I wished I hadn’t left my toys back home. I was too timid to bring them on the plane. Thoughts of security calling me over after scanning my bag filled me with dread. It probably wouldn’t have happened, but just in case, I threw them away before my move. I definitely needed to buy some new ones soon. I imagined Sue would know just the place to get them.

  Lying in bed and listening to the faraway sounds of the music playing inside the VFW, I wondered about Rain and Maggie. She’d warned me about Rain but why? Had they fucked before? Would they fuck tonight?

  It was nearly three o’clock in the morning when I got my answer. Hooting and hollering pulled me from my bed. I hadn’t been able to sleep anyway so I moseyed over to my kitchen window and glanced out over the bar’s parking lot. All the bikers stumbled out and to their trucks and vans. Rain had his arm around Maggie when they climbed into the cab of a pickup truck.

  I scoffed.

  Asshole. But what a gorgeous asshole. And Maggie was about to get all of him tonight.

  5

  Cassie

  Two weeks went by, and I was quickly getting used to life in Anchorage. I’d found a car, something with four wheels and some seats. That was about it. One of Sue’s boyfriends helped me find it at the military base lemon lot. Other than going back and forth to the store, I really hadn’t had enough time to get out and discover the sights of the city. I hadn’t had much time to go on leisurely rides.

  At work, things were pretty much the same. I hadn’t been given much of a chance to get outside. Sue was there to hear my constant bitching and complaining. She was a saint. I couldn’t handle being stuck behind a desk all the time when I knew my counseling training and my ability to help could reach far beyond these damn walls.

  Most of the department seemed content with the warmth and safety of the office, but I knew I would never reach these kids if I didn’t go out and find them in the field. I was trying to figure out how I’d approach my boss, Owen the Tame – everyone called him this because he’d fallen into the position and seemed to never get excited about anything – when a big, tanned man in black slacks and a police polo stepped to my desk. He had a buzz haircut and looked part Eskimo with almond shaped eyes and wide cheeks. He was a big teddy bear of a man, but I bet he could rip people in half if he was pissed off enough.

  “You Cassie?” he asked as he stood at my desk with his hands on his hips.

  “I am,” I said, suddenly afraid I’d crossed some line I didn’t know existed.

  Had I voiced my aggravation loudly enough? Was this how they fired people and sent them on the plane home?

  “Feral,” he said as he held a big, meaty hand out fo
r me to shake.

  My paw was half the size of his when he gripped it and shook.

  “Part-time Anchorage PD, but I spend most of my time here with you folks at AFTY. I like what you’re doing, or at least your intentions. So, think of me as your security buddy. Owen wants me to take you out to the Chester Creek Trail and show you one of the homeless camps.”

  “Holy shit,” I said as I leapt up from my desk. “Seriously?”

  “It’s homeless people,” Feral said with a furrowed brow. “Not Narnia. You seem way too excited.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I was up and ready to go before anyone had the chance to stop me. I didn’t need Owen barging out of his office with a finger raised, saying, “On second thought!”

  Nope. I’m outta here.

  * * *

  Sue warned me. Owen did too. There was a reason they chose to deal with many of these kids after the cops brought them in. It was clear from the moment Feral pulled his Chevy Tahoe onto the snow-covered shoulder of the road that we weren’t in the safest part of Anchorage. Out here really was the Great Frontier, Alaska’s Wild West, and I’d been fighting tooth and nail for the opportunity to see it firsthand.

  So, here you are. Now what?

  My foot accidentally kicked a can of Labatt Blue, and it struck me as odd since it wasn’t a super affordable brand and it was a Canadian beer. Next to it was an empty pack of Winston cigarettes.

  “Expensive brands,” I said softly under my breath. “You’d think they’d be generic or, I don’t know, something more popular.”

  “Stolen,” Feral said. “That or brought here by some assholes with money who came out to buy cheap drugs.”

  Broke and homeless drug dealers? Weren’t they supposed to live large in mansions and drive luxury cars?

  “Right,” I said. “Sad.”

  “Would it be any more comforting if it were Coors and Kools?”

  “You’re sarcastic,” I said, whipping my head around to glare at him. “And no, Milwaukee’s Best and Marlboros, maybe…”

  “My sarcasm will grow on you,” he said.

  I didn’t need him to grow on me. I needed him to keep me safe. “Mine too,” I replied.

  “We call this area tent land,” Feral informed me.

  We hadn’t left the road, but I could imagine why. A muddy path led into the dry, dead woods and through the narrow trees, I could see the tops of multicolored tents. The ground was littered with random objects that almost made no sense in this setting. A car battery, a toilet seat, and a busted-open DVD player were tossed on the ground amidst hundreds of beer cans, liquor bottles, and cigarette packages. Torn clothing highlighted the field before the forest and gave it a cluttered, rainbow-like appearance.

  It was like Oz, but the yellow brick road was slush and led to a land full of discarded dreams where the homeless sang drunken lullabies before tying one off every night. Of course, this was my immediate opinion of the place. Who else could live out here but junkies and whores? What saddened me most was knowing that as little as a year ago, life may have been the complete opposite for some of them.

  “We try to talk them into coming to the shelters,” Feral said. “It’s fucked up. They don’t want to live within the confines of government law and order. The shelter has a curfew and restricts the belongings they can bring in.”

  “It’s like a jail they can walk in and out of,” I added.

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but yeah, in many ways I suppose it is. But what else can we do, you know? Hell, the state of Alaska could give them each their own apartment, and a week later, the buildings would be covered in graffiti and filled with all this…” he kicked an empty plastic bleach bottle… “garbage. Come on.”

  Feral led the way down the path and I followed. I snapped a few pictures here and there, documenting the site for later planning. Plenty of photos filled a number of files back at the office, but I wanted my own. This was my experience. The place was relatively empty at this time of day, maybe noon, and we had a hard time getting the few inhabitants on the premises to speak with us.

  “Who you?” a frail black man wrapped in a blanket and reading a copy of Durango Street asked.

  “Friends,” Feral said. “Just checking up on you.”

  “Friends,” the man said and laughed, ignoring us for the most part as his eyes went back to his book.

  “It’s so empty,” I said.

  “It’s too cold to stay put all day,” Feral replied. “Most of ‘em go out and scrounge for whatever they can find, or they hold up signs begging for help. None of them will actually work for food, but you won’t find a sign that doesn’t promise it.”

  “Hey, there’s someone over there,” I said.

  Leaving Feral at my back, I slushed through the trash-covered snowy field and passed many of the tents and makeshift shacks. One place was held up by four columns of old tires. The roof was tin, and compared to every other place in tent city, this one looked like a mansion. An old sofa sat at its center. It was unoccupied. The owner was out trying to “work for food.”

  It was a black tent I had my eyes on. It was small, probably only big enough to sleep two people. A young couple sat in front of it. The boy, who couldn’t have been a day older than eighteen, wore a nice sweater. A beanie cap covered his head and ears. He wore glasses with one cracked lens high enough in the corner he might be able to ignore it but would probably get horrible headaches from it.

  The girl was pretty, with acne pocked cheeks. Her black hair was once dyed blonde. The root color now owned half of the length, leaving the remaining blonde to hold on for dear life near her shoulders. It dawned on me that she’d only been homeless for as long as that dark color had taken over. Not long ago she’d been able to afford a nice hairdo.

  “Hey,” I said as I approached and squatted down to be at their level.

  “Cassie,” Feral snapped at me from behind, clearly aggravated that I’d gone ahead of him.

  I put a hand up to keep him quiet.

  “My name’s Cassie, as you just heard,” I said. “Can I ask your names?”

  “I don’t see why not?” the boy said. “I’m Arnie.”

  “Nia,” the girl answered with a cute wave of her fingers.

  “I’m—” I started but was cut off by Arnie.

  “Here to see if we need any help,” he said. “Yeah, you’re not the first. We’re fine, lady. Really.”

  “I’m sorry,” I replied, looking down at my knees.

  I really was. How many of my “kind” had stopped by in the past? How many had actually tried to help? How many had only come to snap pictures and earn the right to say they’d seen firsthand what the homeless were going through? Was I any different? I was. I had to be.

  “I’m different,” I said, lifting my head.

  “Yeah?” Nia replied. “How so?”

  “I’m a friend,” I said. “Or at least I can be. I want to be.”

  “Got a smoke?” Arnie asked.

  “No, I’m sorry. I don’t smoke.”

  “Then you ain’t much help.”

  “Stop it, Arnie,” Nia said. “You can at least be polite.”

  I liked her. She didn’t belong here. She belonged in a life that gave her warm meals, provided her with a soft bed to sleep in, and allowed her to get her hair done at the salon sometimes. This camp, this tent city, was a dangerous place to live. Even if the people were lovely, and I was sure there were at least a few rotten ones here, the wildlife in the area made any outdoor establishment unsafe for these young kids. I wished like hell I could get her out of this environment.

  Feral’s heavy footsteps behind me assured me he was close enough to help if I needed him.

  “Is this an interview?” Nia asked.

  “I don’t know what it is to be honest,” I admitted. “I moved here recently, and I really want to help. So, I needed to come out and see the state of things.”

  “The state of things,” Arnie said. “W
e live out here because we have nowhere else to go.”

  “And the shelter?”

  “The shelter’s a joke,” he replied. “Pack us in like cattle? No thanks.”

  “Sounds like you want to be handed the keys to a new home or a new car,” I said, probably a little too sarcastic for my own good.

  Arnie didn’t respond. He looked at me and then shook his head.

  “Life doesn’t owe you anything,” I added. “I don’t know your story. I’m sure you’ve both had some hardships, but if we’re going to get you headed in the right direction—”

  “And what is the right direction?” Arnie asked, raising his voice to the point Feral felt the need to step closer.

  “Keep it civil,” Feral told the kid. “We ain’t here to ruffle anybody’s feathers. You don’t want to talk to her? Don’t. But don’t be rude, kid.”

  Arnie nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re dressed very nicely,” I reminded him. “I like your sweater. So, you must have an idea of the life you want.”

  “My dad used to say, dress everyday like the man you aspire to be. Look respectful if you want to be respected.” Arnie’s eyes fell into his lap.

  “Your dad sounds like a very wise man,” I said.

  “He was.”

  Arnie stood up and walked away. I saw him wipe at his eyes. Feral stepped closer to him, I assumed to see if he was okay. It left me alone with Nia.

  “You said your name is Cassie?” the girl asked me.

  “Yeah.”

  She lowered her voice so only I’d be able to hear. “I heard you back there saying this place is empty. It is. And it’s not safe. We’re disappearing.”

  “Disappearing?”

  “Being taken,” she whispered. “I don’t even want to say it too loud. Arnie doesn’t believe me. He thinks people are moving on to other camps, but I had friends here. Jennifer and Anna and Beatrix. None of them are here anymore and they wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”