Big Bad Baller: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Tia Siren

  The house looked as it always had, rundown but taken care of. The paint was faded and cracking, and the windows were so grimy they couldn’t be seen through. The small white picket fence was still there, almost entirely knocked over now.

  I wondered what my dad would have thought of it after all these years. I always thought of his grizzled face staring down at me from whatever cloud he was sitting on, judging as he always had. I had received messages from him the entire time I was away, but they stopped after he caught a bullet. I guessed if you lived as loud as he did, you’d end up in a grave sooner rather than later.

  “Hey, Momma,” I shouted from the front door.

  “Tara, is that you?” she replied from the den.

  I clomped around the house in my old motorcycle boots till I found her.

  “Yeah, it’s me, Momma. How you feelin’?” I asked.

  “How the hell do you think I’m feeling? I can barely get up to take a piss. Get over here and give your momma a hug,” she said.

  I had learned at an early age that you didn’t say no when your mother asked you to do something. I leaned over her and gave her a solid embrace.

  “Can I get you anything?” I asked.

  “You can get me the last twenty years of my life back; that would do it.” She laughed, only to start hacking and coughing.

  I patted her back in a vain attempt to help her. I looked through her prescriptions, one of which was empty—looked like painkillers.

  “How about you just get me a refill on that before my aches start acting up again? I was just going to watch TV anyway.”

  “All right, Momma. I’ll be back.”

  “I think your old bike is still in the garage, if you want to use that to get around. I haven’t had a car for a couple of years now.”

  “I’m glad you never got rid of it,” I said.

  “Some things you can’t get rid of,” she replied.

  I gave her a kiss on the forehead and took the pill bottle, tucking it into my pocket.

  I went back outside and circled around to the old garage. My dad’s old car was still sat there, waiting for someone to care. I eyed my old motorcycle, peeking out from behind the canvas sheet I’d thrown over it years ago.

  My hand moved automatically, tugging the sheet away. She was a killer ride, and I wondered how I’d gone so long without her in my life. The day to day just didn’t have the same feel as it had when I was younger and more irresponsible.

  I ran my hand along the gas tank, wiping away the layers of dirt she was covered in. She wasn’t the biggest bike, nor was she the fastest, but she was mine, and that was all that mattered.

  I threw my leg over, and a cloud of dust met me as I settled into the seat. I jerked down on the starter, and just as she always had, she turned over on the first crank.

  I hadn’t ridden in so many years; I started to get antsy. She wanted to be taken out to flex those old muscles. I walked my way out of the garage, carefully avoiding the old car.

  I started feeling that sense of freedom I’d had all those years ago: the freedom I’d had when I snuck out late at night to meet up with my old boyfriend, the nights when I’d make a mistake and come home in handcuffs, even the nights when I wouldn’t come home at all—the memories were all flooding back.

  I steered myself away from my old home and joined up with the road. There was a canyon road that had some of the finest sights in the area, and I felt it was the perfect time to see them; Momma could wait a few more minutes.

  When I was free from the town I let loose, my hair whipping in the wind and the sun warming my face. I opened the bike up and leaned into the corners; I had all these roads memorized and could ride them blindfolded.

  Then the familiar rumble of a motorcycle gang filled the canyon. I sense of dread befell me; if it was the person I thought it was, then I had no idea what I’d say to him. I pulled my cycle off the road and clicked her off.

  From the bend in the road, a band of motorcycles filed out. I didn’t recognize any of them, which left me with a feeling of relief. But the guys still made eyes at me as they rode by.

  I was used to it. I’d had a lot of guys fight over me in the past. But none had been as strong as Buck. I once saw him beat up three guys at the same time just for looking at me. He knew how to impress a woman.

  There was a time when I would have done anything for that man, but he could never see me as his one and only. I’d always catch him with another girl, and he never understood why I thought it was such a big deal. If he wanted me to be his, then he needed to be mine.

  Two of the bikers from the gang pulled off, and I knew what was coming.

  “Hey there,” said the taller of the two who stopped.

  “Howdy,” I replied.

  “Who do you ride with?” he asked.

  “I’m with Buck and his boys,” I replied.

  The two of them looked at each other in a sort of horrified way.

  “Pleasure meeting you,” they said as they turned and zoomed back to their motorcycles waiting nearby.

  I laughed; Buck’s reputation was still just as serious now as it had been before. He had a bad temper and a lousy habit of letting everyone know.

  Despite all his faults, I still wanted to see him. I somehow felt that he deserved to know I was back in town. Not a single member of his crew would come through without at least paying homage to the leader. I felt no different.

  I slung myself back into the saddle and kicked the old girl back on. I tore down the road and toward the old bar that had raised me; it wasn’t very far from where I was.

  The Whiplash Tavern was a sort of landmark in these parts. The sign outside was well past any state of repair. The front of the bar was full of motorcycles of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The signs in the windows hummed their neon tune as I eased my cycle into an empty place.

  Before I could finish pulling in, I heard a loud crash echo from inside the bar, then what sounded like glass breaking, followed by the sound of a gunshot.

  Then I saw Buck, sauntering out the front door with another man, who he held by his collar and belt.

  “You take your shit and stay out of my town,” shouted Buck in his grizzly tone.

  He threw the man to the ground as though he were a sack of flour.

  “You’ll regret this,” said the man on the ground.

  “I get told that a lot,” said Buck, “but I’m still waiting.”

  The young pup picked himself up from the ground and sprinted to a nearby motorcycle. Another man, about his same size, ran out of the tavern and joined him. They looked like they were in a hurry.

  Then Buck turned to me. It was the first time I’d seen him in five years, and it looked like he hadn’t aged a day. He was still the barrel-chested and grizzled man I’d known since I was a girl. He towered over nearly every other man I knew, and when he wasn’t the tallest, he was still usually the biggest. His cropped and disheveled beard was starting to show slight signs of gray, giving him a distinguished look, and his tattooed arms still looked just as strong as the first day I met him, maybe even a little bigger than before.

  He clenched his jaw and let out a grunt before disappearing back inside. SO maybe he wasn’t excited to see me, and that made me a little nervous.

  I entered quietly, but I recognized everyone, and they all recognized me. A loud cheer echoed throughout the small establishment, and I waved a meek hello.

  “Thought that was your bike comin’ down the road,” Buck said as he walked back behind the bar.

  “I’m amazed you can always tell,” I said.

  “I damn near built that bike myself,” he replied. “I know my own work.”

  He shoved a beer in my direction. I took it and sipped anxiously.

  “What brought you back to town?” he asked.

  I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye, so I just stared into my drink.

  “My momma’s sick,” I said.

  He stayed silent and washed a glas
s with his dishrag. He wasn’t one for words.

  “I’ll be here a couple of months till she either gets better or dies,” I said, “and I don’t know which one would be better.”

  “That old hag won’t die,” Buck said. “Paul knew how to pick his women, and he picked a good one.”

  Paul was my dad’s name; he used to run the gang here. Buck had always been his second, and when Dad finally kicked the bucket, all his assets went straight to Buck: the bar, his bike, and, to some extent, me.

  “Whatever happens, I just don’t want to be here too long. I got a new life to get back to.”

  Buck slammed the glass he was cleaning on the counter so hard that it shattered.

  “Why the hell you gotta go sayin’ stuff like that? You just got back, and you’re already fixin’ to leave.”

  “I’m not fixin’ to leave nowhere yet. But my eye is always on the door,” I replied.

  “I’ll never get what made you take off the first time.”

  “The train of girls that was always walkin’ out of your bedroom would be a good place to look.”

  “I quit all that, and you know it,” he said.

  “I never saw any of that.”

  “Well, maybe if you stuck around like you were supposed to, you would’ve seen it.”

  I turned to look him in the eye. He still had that soulful glare; I could never tell if he was getting ready to break something or kiss me, but sometimes I was sure it was both.

  “I’m here now, Buck.”

  He started sweeping the shards of glass from the bar with his hand.

  “That’s right, you are,” he said.

  The men around the bar seemed entranced by our conversation, but as I looked around at them, they all did their best to return to their normal conversations.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  He leaned over the bar, which cracked and groaned under his weight, and whispered in my ear.

  “Now that you’re here, I’m going to make you remember why it was so hard to leave. You always get me hard when you walk into the bar in those tight jeans.”

  I wanted to have him, but I knew if I did, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I needed to keep that part of my past closed. His boyish charm was the hardest to resist.

  I leaned over and whispered a reply in his ear.

  “I can’t do it, Buck. I can’t go back to that life.”

  He stood back up only to lean on the back bar. I made the mistake of letting my real feelings show in my eyes, and he knew it. I’d always had large, expressive eyes, which were both a blessing and a curse. Buck told me once that he could tell what was on my mind by what showed through my eyes. I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew it to be true.

  “What the hell, Tara,” he said in frustration.

  “I know what I want, and I know what I need,” I said. “You’re what I want, but not what I need.”

  He snapped his fingers to a couple of guys in the back of the bar, and the two of them hopped right up.

  “I’m goin’ for a ride, and this time I’m ridin’ solo. You’ll come around, but I can’t be here waitin’ for you till you do.”

  He stomped his way out of the bar, and my eyes followed him. Buck climbed onto the largest bike outside, beautiful and black glossed. The bike was still covered in scratches and dings from road wear and tear, though. It roared to life, a deafening rumble that shook my glass, and he pulled away.

  “You probably shouldn’t have made him angry,” said one of the guys behind the bar.

  “He’ll go off and do something stupid like he always does. Except this time I hope it doesn’t get anyone killed in the process,” said the other biker.

  “I’m leavin’ my number. If he does something stupid, you make sure to call me.” I polished off my beer and tossed some cash onto the counter.

  I had a feeling things were about to get a lot worse.

  2.

  I wondered how long I would have to wait before getting a call. It was nearly one in the morning when the phone rang.

  “Hello?” I said, fighting away sleep.

  “Tara, you better get down here quick. It’s not good,” said one of the bikers from earlier.

  “I’m on my way,” I replied.

  I threw on my clothes from earlier in the day and hopped back on my bike. I walked a couple of blocks down the road so that I wouldn’t wake up my momma when I started the bike.

  I was reminded again of when I used to have to sneak out of the house late at night for just this same reason. Buck was more than just a trouble maker; he was a trouble magnet. I couldn’t remember a day when he didn’t go off and do something stupid.

  I rode swiftly along the road, taking in the night breeze. The crisp air stung my lungs, and I loved every second. The moon illuminated the road with its faint blue hue.

  When I pulled up to the bar, I saw that everyone was there already. I was the last to arrive.

  There was a lot of shouting, and I couldn’t make out one bit of it. Things quieted down a little when people noticed me walking in. Buck was sitting at the bar in the center of the commotion.

  “This ain’t that bad. Don’t make such a fuss about it,” shouted Buck. His clothes were more disheveled than usual, and I knew what the meant.

  “Who the hell did you sleep with now?” I asked sharply.

  “What the hell do you care?” he replied.

  “I care cause they care. I wouldn’t expect them to wake my ass up unless this was something important,” I said.

  Buck look around the group, and a few of them shied away from his gaze.

  “He slept with Gracie,” said one of the bikers.

  I cocked an eyebrow.

  “Who the hell is Gracie?” I asked.

  “She’s Connor’s sister,” replied Buck.

  “None of this is making sense. Could you just explain it, Buck?” I asked.

  Buck crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

  “If you really gotta know, then I’ll tell you. Take a seat over here.”

  A chair near the bar opened up, and I took a seat. Buck loomed over me like a statue while he continued his explanation.

  “There’s another crew in town. They’re big, bigger than this gang, and just as mean. I met up with their leader a while back, guy by the name of Connor.

  “His sister kept makin’ eyes at me, even called me in the bar from time to time. I knew she was trouble, and I might do stupid things, but I’m not stupid.

  “Then you had to show up.” Buck stopped and took a swig of his beer and lit another cigarette.

  “I was ridin’ about five miles out of town and I come across Gracie. She’s lookin’ good, so I pulled up alongside her. She just goes and smiles at me.”

  “How the hell am I involved in all this?” I asked. “I just showed up this morning.”

  Buck slammed his drink back on the bar.

  “You always knew how to make me go crazy, Tara. When you wasn’t interested in shacking up earlier, I was pissed off. Figured I could use a little tail to take my mind off it all. It just so happened that the first tail I found was Gracie’s,” he added.

  “So I got you hard, and she got you off,” I said matter-of-factly.

  “That’s why this is your fault. You’re supposed to keep me from making stupid mistakes like this, but you just up and left like always. It seems to be the only thing you’re good at,” he said.

  “I care about you, Buck, but I really don’t care about your love life anymore. I don’t even see what the big deal is anyway. You slept with some dumb biker bitch. Who cares?”

  “Connor cares, and he’s the type of guy who backs up his threats. There’s a good chance he’ll start comin’ after someone in the gang. Might even be you.”

  I sighed. I wanted to hit him for putting me in this situation, but I had a feeling he was in a mood to hit back.

  “What are you goin’ to do?” I asked.

  “Nothin
’, I guess,” he said.

  Most the guys in the club looked around, a little confused.

  “The way I see it is, he doesn’t know. The only way he’ll find out is if his sister tells him what happened. She might be dumb, but she’s not an idiot either. I’m sure she doesn’t want to see a bunch of guys beating the shit out of each other.”

  He might be right, but I still had a bad feeling about the entire situation. If Gracie was that crazy about Buck, then she might do something rash.

  “I’m headin’ home for the night. I can’t deal with this right now,” I said.

  The door slammed open. Two bikers were making their way inside. One of them was bloodied and beaten, and the other was so bruised that he couldn’t hold himself up at all.

  “Connor’s gang, they just attacked us on the road,” said the conscious one. “They told me to give you a message.”

  “What is it?” Buck asked.

  “They said, ‘don’t mess with things that aren’t yours.’”

  Buck polished off his cigarette and stamped it out on the table before lighting another one. I hadn’t known Buck to chain smoke except for times when he was incredibly upset.

  He stood up and loomed over the crowd. His rage was palpable, but after a glance from me, he seemed to calm down a little.

  “Connor needs to pay for this. I say we ride out and beat the ever-living snot out of every single one of ’em.”

  Buck reached behind the counter and pulled out a familiar shotgun.

  “Buck, wait,” I said, running over to him and throwing my arms around him to try to make him stop for even a moment.

  “Wait for what? He didn’t wait to start attacking us,” he said.

  “Buck, you started this. You slept with the guy’s sister. Will you at least talk to the guy first, before bullets start flying?”

  He grunted and let out a puff of smoke.

  “Fine,” he said. “But I’m taking my shotgun with me.”

  3.

  I rode with Buck for the first time in a long time. It was another thing I had missed about living here. The drive was long, but I didn’t mind. I got the chance to hold on to the man I had loved for a long time.