by A. J. Wynter
He tapped the pump and hung it up. Olivia snapped out of her reverie and pretended to be avidly searching for something in her purse. He rapped on the window, and even though she knew that he was there, she still jumped. She wasn’t jittery out of fear though, this was something else, something new. Lust.
She cranked down her window and he leaned down and took off his black sunglasses to meet her gaze. His eyes were a crystal blue and she felt like they pierced right through her.
“All full.”
“How much?” Olivia stammered.
“Oh, don’t you worry beautiful. It’s on that douchebag” he smirked and pointed at the man in leather.
Before Olivia could say anything further, the young biker walked away, slapped the white leather man hard on the back, and mounted his Harley. It roared to life. As he passed Olivia, he nodded his head and tipped his hat at her.
Olivia wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans, started up her car, shakily put it in gear, and drove off.
She’d had lots of crushes before, all of them had been on cute nerdy guys at music school. They were all clean cut, and usually percussionists. She focused on her music, and regretfully, never acted on her crushes. Now she was embarrassed to be a virgin at twenty-one. She felt like her time to be young and wild was over, and it had never even started.
The strange butterfly feeling in her lower abdomen was new to her. Her whole body was shaky and coursed with adrenaline from her encounter with the biker. It was as though her sexuality had just woken up from a long slumber and was hungry. She adjusted herself in her seat and felt the wetness in her panties. She smiled, but then was overcome with sadness. She would never see that hot biker again, she didn’t even get his name.
CHAPTER FOUR – BLAINE
Blaine used to get off on wielding the power that the club’s logo afforded him. A small part of him still did.
The asshole on the Ninja bike didn’t know Blaine personally, but he knew enough about the Bonds to not fuck with one of their members.
He had watched the pretty girl pull into the station in her rust bucket civic, and when that douche bag had muscled into her he felt a strange urge to protect her. She wasn’t a bombshell, hell her tits weren’t even that big, but there was something about her that made him want her.
When he caught her checking him out in the mirror he smiled to himself. There was no way he could ever get involved with an innocent one like her. Hell, there’s no way an innocent girl who played a giant guitar would be into a rough guy like him. He was surprised when he noticed that her eyes followed his every move outside of the car.
When he told her that her gas was paid for, and his eyes met hers, he felt the strangest sensation. Her pretty blue eyes seemed to look at him differently than the makeup caked eyes who usually met his. He had meant to get her name, but for the first time in his life, he felt unnerved by, not even a woman, a girl. When he grew stiff against his jeans, he had high tailed it out of there.
‘That’s the last thing I need right now.’ He thought to himself as he growled away from the gas station. He had two appointments with landowners and had to focus on securing a spot for their AGM.
His first stop was on the outskirts of town in an agricultural area. The owner was an aging hippie named Steve, who supplied the town with organic vegetables, and supplied the Bonds with organic weed. It was good stuff, nice and mellow.
Blaine wheeled his bike off the main road and carefully navigated the overgrown driveway back to Steve’s barn. It was a gorgeous day, the sky was robin’s egg blue, and the prayer flags on Steve’s barn flapped listlessly in the light breeze.
“Blaine?” Steve shouted from behind the barn. “Can you give me a hand here, brother?”
Typically, Blaine would’ve been offended by an outsider calling him brother, but Steve was from a long-lost era and Blaine let it slide. He jogged around the corner and saw Steve struggling with a rain barrel.
“What’s this all about?”
“It’s a gravity fed system, and as you can see, it’s sitting on the ground.”
“Well, that’s not gonna work too well.” Blaine chuckled.
“No shit, brother.” Steve smiled. “I’d just dump it out, but with this drought we’re having, I’d hate to lose this precious life source.”
Blaine rolled his eyes and laughed. “Why don’t we siphon some of it out so we can lift it up to where it needs to be?”
“Good call. Let me see if I can find some hose.”
While Steve rummaged around in the barn, Blaine surveyed the open fields. They would be perfect for the AGM. There were islands of trees that could provide shade, a couple of huge out-buildings and cabins, and acres of flat land that led to a meandering river. It was just far enough from town that neighbors wouldn’t be calling the cops about noise, and close enough that people could go and get supplies.
“Got it,” Steve said breathlessly as he reappeared beside Blaine, holding a dirty rubber hose. “Whatcha looking at?”
“We need a location for our AGM. This is perfect.”
“Oh yeah, when is that shindig?”
“September sometime,” Blaine said, affixing the hose to the barrel. “I don’t think that exact date has been established just yet.”
“I don’t know if that’s going to work, brother.”
“We would pay you, dude. And I promise you that we will leave the place cleaner than we found it.”
“I don’t doubt that Blaine, but I’ve got crops that aren’t going to be harvested at that time. These fields are precious, and as much as I appreciate everything that your club does for me, this soil is my livelihood. Hundreds of bikes and partiers isn’t going to be good for her physically, and that’s not the kind of energy that I want for my plants.”
“Hmmm.” Blaine grunted disapprovingly.
“You know that I’d do anything for the club.”
“I do Steve, I do,” Blaine said begrudgingly and shook Steve’s hand.
The guy was straight up with him and Blaine understood where he was coming from, minus the weird energy part and calling his land ‘her’. They also relied on his crops to supply all the weed smokers in town, and Blaine didn’t want to jeopardize that local supply. The organic shit was growing in popularity, and Steve’s weed had a loyal following.
“Let’s get this barrel sorted out.” Blaine took a deep breath and sucked the water up into the hose. He was a big powerful man, and his lungs had siphoned off a few gas tanks in their lifetime, so in no time at all, he helped Steve siphon and relocate all of his rain barrels.
“Thanks, man.” Steve slapped Blaine on the back. “And thanks for understanding.”
Blaine nodded and headed back to his bike. His next meeting was not going to be as cordial.
He pulled into the industrial plaza on the other side of town and leaned against his bike while he waited for Ed to show up. He lit a joint and inhaled deeply.
“Damn, Steve’s stuff is good.” He mumbled to himself.
The sleek black Mercedes crept into the lot and Ed stepped out into the parking lot. Ed was a dick, and Blaine hated his guts. It wasn’t just his pointy Italian shoes, or his stupid gelled hair, the guy was slimy as fuck. Blaine hated that the club did business with him, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he fucked them over.
“Blaine, buddy.” Ed sauntered up to him and held out his hand for a handshake, but he stopped just far enough away that Blaine would’ve had to meet him to shake it.
Blaine didn’t bite and took another slow toke from his joint. Ed lowered his hand and cleared his throat.
“What can I do for you?”
“I need a tour of your facilities.” Blaine flicked the joint away and stood up to his full height and towered over Ed.
“Why?”
“I need a tour of your facilities,” Blaine repeated. He enjoyed taunting the slime-ball.
“Fuck, fine,” Ed muttered under his breath. “This way.” He turned on his heel
and motioned for Blaine to follow.
CHAPTER FIVE – OLIVIA
Olivia ran into her house and slammed the front door behind her. She was furious. Her cello teacher, Mr. Tunbridge, had refused her entry to the studio because she was one minute late. She had driven like a bat out of hell, fuelled by what the sexy biker did for her, and well, quite literally, free gas.
Her dad was messing around in the kitchen and poked his head into the hallway.
“Woah, Nelly!” What’s gotten into you?
“Mr. Tunbridge is such an asshole,” Olivia muttered and loosened the laces on her combat boots.
“Excuse me?” Her dad looked at her, bemused.
“Sorry Dad, I’m just so frustrated. Mr. Tunbridge has such a huge ego, and I was only one measly minute late because I had to stop for gas because someone left it on empty.”
Olivia’s dad drew in his breath. “My bad.”
Her dad’s use of such a youthful colloquialism threw Olivia off, and his ridiculousness diffused some of her anger. “He should just be a bit more understanding that sometimes things happen to…”
Olivia was interrupted by several loud bangs and feedback sounds screeching from the garage.
“Sorry, Kiddo. Steve and Randy are here practicing. Try not to let Mr. Tunbridge bother you. You know his late policy, not that I agree with it, but it’s not really like you to be late either.”
Olivia sighed, grabbed her backpack, and ran up the stairs two at a time. Instead of her lesson, Mr. Tunbridge had given her theory exercises to work on. While playing came naturally to Olivia, the theory was a slog for her.
She tossed her theory book and sheet music onto the bed and grabbed her workbook. The banging from the garage resumed.
“Argh,” Olivia growled and grabbed her earphones.
She turned up the volume of the music and set to work, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t focus. The racket from the garage permeated through her headset and shook her brain.
‘That’s it.’ She ripped the big headphones from her ears and tossed them onto the bed. She stomped down the stairs and flew into the garage in a rage, ready to lash out at the first guy she saw. Steve and Randy looked up from their instruments and smiled. They had known Olivia since she was a toddler, running around with a violin.
“Hey, Liv.” Steve brought his drumstick up to his brow like a salute.
“Hi, Steve,” Olivia responded, and immediately changed her tone. How could she scream at these old hippies who had always been so good to her?
“How’s cello school treating you?” Randy asked, his hands draped over the bass.
“It’s good.”
“You guys rock out up there? You know I’ve heard some pretty funky stuff with violins, I’m sure you cellists can make some pretty far out music.”
“I’m mostly into baroque right now. Not a lot of room for creative interpretation there…”
“You should grab your cello and jam with us!” Randy said excitedly.
After her experimentation the other day, Olivia wanted to try playing with them so badly. She had never really veered from what was written on the sheet music and wondered if she could actually improvise.
“No thanks. guys. I don’t think that would really work with your style.”
“That’s crazy talk!” Steve said and pointed to the guitar with his drumstick. “Grab that axe and let’s go.”
Olivia hesitated, but then walked over to the guitar and picked it up. “How is it tuned?”
“E, A, D, G, B, standard,” Randy responded.
“Hmmm.” Olivia tossed the leather strap over her shoulder and ran her fingers up and down the strings. Her cello was C-G-D-A, so completely different. She strummed a couple of single notes and then shook her right hand out.
“Guess I need to build up some callouses on this hand!”
Randy laughed and tossed her a pick from his pocket. “The Joker – G-C-D-C.”
Olivia listened as Randy repeated the bass line a few times. She had heard The Joker a billion times and started strumming the basic chords. It was a little tricky at first as her brain had to transpose and calculate the notes for the chords.
“Nice, Kid!” Randy exclaimed.
They played a few other easy classics and Olivia found herself having a ton of fun. She played the basic chords and quickly got the hang of it.
Later that night, Olivia sat on her bed and finished up her theory. It took her way longer than it should have. Her thoughts kept replaying made up scenarios with the hot biker. She couldn’t stop her imagination from running wild. She drew random music notes on the paper as her mind drifted away:
The biker met her eyes as he removed the pump from the nozzle in her car. She applied some red lipstick and winked at him, sassily. He walked up to her window and knocked, she rolled it down, and he leaned into the car with his hands on the window frame.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hey there, thanks for putting your nozzle in my tank,” she responded and held his gaze.
She turned to face him directly and put her hands on his, effectively pinning him to the car door. She leveraged her torso out the window to kiss him. He returned her kiss hungrily. He smelled like engine oil and musk. He pulled his hands out from under hers and looped them into her hair at the nape of her neck. They kissed again, even more passionately. The world around them disappeared, including the guy in the white leather.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes.
“You’re beautiful. Want to go for a ride?”
She shook her head yes, and smiled coyly. She pulled the keys out of the ignition and he wrapped his massive hand around her ribcage and pulled her all the way out of the car window.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and he gripped the back of her thighs, just under her ass. They kissed passionately as he walked to his bike. He put his helmet on her, gave her a lingering kiss, and threw his muscular leg over the bike. She wrapped her arms around his leather clad waist and held on tightly as they growled out of the parking lot and away into the sunset.
“Olivia. Olivia…”
She snapped out of her daydream and grabbed for her pencil.
“Where were you just now?” Her dad asked.
“I. I was composing something in my head,” she stammered back.
“Must be something good!”
“Mhmmm,” she responded and tried to hide the fact that she was clearly flustered.
“Dinner is ready and on the table for you. I’m heading out to Steve’s property to help him with the rain barrels. Again.”
“Ok. See you later, Dad.”
She held up her calloused right hand, rubbed her sore fingertips together, and smiled. Playing music, for fun, had felt so freeing. She wondered how she could ‘run into’ the biker again. She pulled her laptop out and googled ‘Brass Bonds – Torver’ and set to reading everything she could about the local chapter.
CHAPTER SIX – BLAINE
Blaine followed Ed through the service bay of his manufacturing plant. The rear garage bay doors opened up onto a huge paved storage yard, wrapped in chain link fencing topped with barbed wire. It was a huge space that had once been used to store cars for auction houses. ‘If the day of the AGM is hot, this place will get cooking,’ Blaine thought to himself. It did have indoor bathroom facilities, which was a bonus, but they would definitely have to supplement with some porta pottys to make it work. There wouldn’t be anywhere for out of towners to camp, but there was a strip of divey motels down the street that were often used by the club’s sex workers. He didn’t love the location, but he didn’t have the heart to strong-arm Steve into letting them use the farm, so the industrial space would have to do.
He caught a whiff of the unmistakable sharp chemical smell of meth cooking.
“You got a little side enterprise going here, Ed?”
“Don’t worry. Zeb knows all about it – we have a mutually beneficial agreement.”
“Should we be s
melling that shit out here?” Blaine looked up and tried to locate the source of the smell.
“I’m not too sure. I’m pretty new to this,” Ed said hesitantly. He motioned to a stained office chair, but Blaine declined.
“I’m going to get the hell out of here,” he said and wheeled the chair away from him. “Oh, and, September – the Brass Bonds’ AGM – we’re holding it here.” He said almost as an afterthought. He wanted to get the fuck out of there. His mind was full of images of all the charred remains of amateur meth labs that he had seen in his day.
“Hold on a minute,” Ed said. “Are you asking me, or telling me?”
“The AGM. We are holding it here. I suppose that means I’m telling you.”
Ed seemed to think about it for a minute, but then let out a long sigh. “Fuck, fine. Get in touch with my assistant, Tiffany, to set up the details. As you can see, we will likely have a logistical challenge with the new kitchen here.”
“Deal with it.” Blaine walked briskly back out into the fresh air. He didn’t hesitate to start his bike up and peel out of there as fast as he possibly could. He’d seen meth labs go bad and he didn’t want to be anywhere near this one if things went south.
He pulled his bike into the garage at the back of the clubhouse. On the drive over, he had kept an eye out for a certain beat up Honda Civic. He was surprised at the amount of time spent thinking about the freckle-faced girl.
“Blaine, baby.” A voice called out from the bar area. “Where have you been?”
