Dirty Biker (An MC Motorcycle Romance) (The Maxwell Family)

by Alycia Taylor

  “Hi Grandma. It’s Ian.”

  “Ian? My grandson, Ian?”

  “Yeah Grandma, it’s me.”

  “Ian?” she said again. Then she said, “I think you were twelve the last time you called me and that was because your Mama made you do it. Oh no! Ian, what’s wrong?”

  Shit! “Grandma, is Grandpa there with you?”

  “Yes, he’s here and Uncle Don too…Ian, what’s wrong?”

  “Maybe I should talk to Uncle Don…”

  “Ian Michael! You tell me what is going on right now!”

  “Emma was in a car accident….”

  “Oh no! Ian, is she okay? Where is she? Why isn’t your mother calling me?”

  “She’s not okay, Grandma. She died…” There was an almost inhuman wail on the other end of the phone and I heard it drop. I could hear men’s voices in the background and then finally My Uncle Don picked up the phone and said, “Ian? What’s going on? Mom looks like she’s having a stroke!”

  Fuck! “Uncle Don, Emma died last night.”

  “Oh shit! Oh God…Oh Ian, I’m so damned sorry…Your mom! Oh God! She must be devastated, and your dad…damn it!”

  “Um…yeah, she is, they both are.” I could still hear my Grandma wailing and I think I can hear my Grandpa crying too.

  “Okay son, I’m so sorry. Let me deal with Mom. I’ll call you back in a while to find out what we need to do. Oh damn!”

  “Okay, thanks, Uncle Don.” I hung up the phone and that was when the bile that had been churning in my stomach all morning reached the back of my throat. I went over to the sink and I was finally able to puke. It was disgusting and a relief all at the same time. Damn it! I still had to call my dad’s parents. I rinsed my mouth and called the other grandparents. The reaction was about the same…then I called Aunt Karen, my mom’s sister. Her daughter Cammie answered. “Hi Cammie, it’s Ian.”

  “My cousin Ian?” I guess I needed to call my family more often.

  “Yeah, your cousin. Is your Mom or Dad there?” Cammie was only fourteen. There was no way I was telling her.

  “Yeah, Dad’s here. Just a sec.” Good, talking to Uncle Brian would be a lot easier than telling Aunt Karen. I waited and a few seconds later, Uncle Brian came on the line and said, “Ian?”

  “Yeah Uncle Brian, it’s me.”

  “Hey buddy! How the hell are you? I heard you’ve been winning fights like a champ!”

  Shit! “Um…Uncle Brian, Emma was in a car accident.”

  “Oh hell. Damn, I’m sorry. Is she okay?”

  “Um…no, she died.”

  He was quiet for a long time. I felt bad for him. I know it had to suck being on that end of the line too. Finally he said, “Damn it, Ian…I don’t even know what to say.”

  “I know,” I said. “Me neither.”

  “Your Aunt Karen will be home soon. I’ll have her call your mom…”

  “Yeah…you might want to have her wait until tomorrow. Mom’s not really up for talking today.”

  “Shit! Yeah, I imagine she’s not. Thanks for calling buddy. I’m so sorry.”

  The last call was to my dad’s brother. He was kind of a strange guy…actually, he was a lot like me as far as he kept to himself mostly and he loved his family. But he was a lot more emotional than I was and I knew he wasn’t going to take this well. I was dreading telling him most of all I think.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Uncle Mike.”

  “Is this Ian Michael? My name sake?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “What’s wrong son? You don’t sound so good.”

  I told him and then I just held the phone for a while and listened to him cry. God I hate this! When he could finally talk again he said, “I’m sorry, Ian. I’m so sorry. Tell your folks I’ll be there as soon as tomorrow, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “Ian?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  “Yeah…me too.”

  I had my back to the refrigerator when I ended the call. I just let my body slide down until I was sitting in the floor. God this sucks worse than anything in the world.

  At least I thought that was the case until the next day when I had to start helping my dad make arrangements to bury my little sister. “Sucks” didn’t even come close to that one.

  Chapter Three

  Alexa

  I tried on three different outfits before I was finally too tired to take the last one off. I feel like I haven’t slept in days. Falling asleep wasn’t bad. I was emotionally exhausted and in most of my dreams, Emma was still alive. It was waking up that was so horrible…because every time I woke up I had to remind myself that she was gone and it was like losing her all over again. I’d spend the better part of my morning crying. The rest of the day I would be numb sometimes and then other times the grief would sneak back up on me and take me over, body and soul. Who knew that grief was physically painful?

  “Alexa?” My dad was knocking on my door. I didn’t want to answer it. If I did, that meant I had to go out there and then I would have to go to the funeral…I didn’t know how to watch them put my beautiful friend in a hole in the ground. I just stood there, staring at the door until he finally opened it and poked his head around the corner. “Baby…are you okay?”

  I nodded, but even that was a lie. I was a wreck. When I was at school and I first heard about Emma, I thought I’d never feel anything so terrible. But being back home, in this room where Emma and I spent so much time laughing and talking and plotting out our futures…It was indescribable.

  “You ready to go?”

  My inner voice was yelling: No, I don’t want to go! I tamped it down and said, “Yeah, I’m ready.” My dad took hold of my arm and together we walked out to the car. He was great. He didn’t try to make me talk about it. He understood that there was just really nothing to say. When we drove up in front of the chapel next to the funeral home where the services were being held, he reached over and squeezed my hand. He still didn’t say anything, it was just a sign of support and I appreciated it. He waited for me to reach for the door before he got out. I think he thought there was a possibility that I would change my mind and not go in after all. If there was any way I could live with skipping this, I would.

  The little chapel was just filling up when we got there. We found a seat about three rows from the front and while we sat there and waited for the services to begin, I took in the crazy scene around me. It was crazy because it made absolutely no sense at all. There was a white casket in the front of the chapel…it was closed, thank God. I know that I couldn’t have taken seeing her like that. I wanted to remember he like she was when she was alive. I knew if I saw her dead…I wouldn’t be able to get that image out of my brain.

  The casket was covered with yellow and white flowers. Emma loved the color yellow. Next to the casket was a huge picture of her. It was one that had been taken outside somewhere and her pretty dark hair shone in the sun. She had beautiful skin…I was always a little jealous of it. It was flawless…it made her look like a china doll. Her teeth were perfect too, and she had really deep dimples when she smiled. Her dark blue eyes topped it all off. She was gorgeous. Emma could have easily been a model if she had wanted to. What she wanted to be, was a nurse. It always amazed me that someone who looked like her could also have such a kind heart. It was my experience that the pretty girls were usually the mean ones too…except Emma.

  I could see the back of her parent’s heads and the rest of her family, I presumed. They sat close together in the front row. Her poor mother was leaning against her father on one side and gripping onto her brother on the other. It was like she was afraid they were going to disappear as well. I tried for a second to imagine what she must be going through, but I had to stop because I felt like I was going to throw up.

  The pastor came out and began to talk. I listened quietly, feeling like I was breathing in the sadness all around me. It was suffocating and once it got i
nside me, I felt like I wasn’t in control of my own emotions. My whole body was shaking. My dad was gripping my hand tightly and I leaned into him and just lost it halfway through the service. I finally had to get up and go outside. I really felt like I couldn’t breathe. Dad followed me out and watched me like he was afraid I’d come unraveled. Maybe I had…hell, I didn’t know. We didn’t go back inside. I could hear her uncle talking about her and then he dissolved into tears too. It was all just too awful.

  When the service was over, we followed the procession to the graveyard. The same picture sat on a tripod next to the casket…which sat next to a six foot deep hole in the ground. It was almost an obscene sight. The only thing that made the graveside services any better than the ones in the chapel was that I could at least breathe. The air was crisp…it was late winter, soon to be spring. Emma loved the spring; it was her favorite time of year. Spring didn’t come soon enough this time for my poor Emma.

  When they lowered her into the ground…as if the day hadn’t been heart-wrenching enough, her mother’s legs buckled and her knees sank into the sodden earth. She wouldn’t let Ian and her husband help her up. She just sat there like that and watched her baby girl be lowered to her final resting place, sobbing silently and making my heart feel like someone was reaching into my chest and squeezing it with their fist. It got worse when Ian and her father got on their knees next to her. Ian’s shoulders were straight…he wasn’t shaking and didn’t look like he was crying like his parents, but he was right there with them. God, I hated this whole thing. It felt almost voyeuristic to be standing here and witnessing their heartache. My dad stood next to me the whole time and gripped onto my arm. At the point when Emma’s mom collapsed, he was the only thing holding me up.

  When it was finally all over…we were told by the pastor that there would be a “reception” at Emma’s parent’s house. We got into the car and Dad said, “Would you rather skip the reception and see her parents later? You look so tired, honey.”

  “I am tired, and I’d rather not go. But…I have to, Dad. She was my best friend. I have to be there.”

  He nodded and drove me over there. When we got there, Emma’s Aunt Karen and Uncle Brian were greeting people at the door. Dad and I had brought a cake. When I looked around at all of the tables of food, I wondered how they would ever eat it all. Some of the “guests” seemed to be eating, but not many. Dad was talking to a friend of his and I said hello to a few people from school, but it was all just so damned surreal that I could hardly stand it. I felt like I was crawling out of my own skin. I saw Emma’s parents and Ian finally without a crowd around them and I figured I would go over and talk to them and then I would probably tell Dad I was ready to go. I walked over and as I got close I could see Ian’s eyes on me. He had the same eyes as Emma, they were dark blue and they looked so good with their dark hair and pretty skin. I’d never noticed before that Ian had the same flawless skin as his sister. I actually hadn’t seen him more than a handful of times over the years. He did his own thing…unless someone in the family needed him, and then he was there, like he was now.

  “Alexa!” Her mom saw me and suddenly I was wrapped up in her arms and then her dads, and then Ian hugged me too. I broke down as soon as her mom touched me. I once again tried to imagine what she was going through and couldn’t. Emma and her mom had been close…it was another thing I envied her. Her dad was crying too. It was harder to watch a grown man fall apart, I think. He looked so broken. Ian was stoic. His eyes looked lost and sad…but he wasn’t crying. I didn’t see him cry at the service at all. I wondered if he cried in private, or if he was just that damned tough.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. My eyes were burning with tears and I felt like I was going to throw up again. I didn’t know what to say. What the hell was I supposed to say?

  “We’re sorry for you too,” her mom said. “She loved you like a sister.”

  I sobbed out that I loved her like one too and her mom hugged me again. The whole time I could feel Ian’s sad eyes on me and I found myself wondering what he was thinking about as all of this went on.

  “We should probably go start talking to some of our guests…” her dad said.

  Her mom looked at me and said, “If I don’t see you before you go, Alexa…thank you so much for being here and for being such a good friend to our girl. I hope that we’ll still see you…you’re a part of this family too.”

  “Of course you will,” I told her. “If you need anything…” she nodded and gave me a tight little smile. I bet she couldn’t count the times she had heard that sentence in the past few days. I watched them go, forgetting that Ian was next to me still for a minute until he said, “Emma would have loved all of this attention.”

  I looked at him, shocked at first that he would say something sarcastic about his little sister at a time like this. When I saw his face though, I could tell that he’d said that with love. I could see it in his eyes, and the truth was he was right. Emma would have loved it. “She was quite the attention hound,” I said with a little smile.

  “Hmm, tell me! I got my parents attention for exactly three years. Once Emma came along, Ian was old news. I got a job when I was five, just to get out of their hair.”

  I laughed, “You did not.”

  “Okay, I was seven, but still…”

  “That’s not the way Emma tells it. She’s always said, “Ian can get away with anything because he’s their favorite. If I tried to pull the things he did, I’d be grounded for life.”

  He smiled, “It was just because they saw more potential in her.” He had been kidding before, but he said that seriously. It was obvious how much he thought of his sister and it made my heart hurt for him.

  “I remember one time when we were thirteen that your dad did tell her she was grounded for life.”

  He raised an eyebrow and said, “Really? Dad hardly ever grounded her. He always made Mom be the bad guy. She was his little princess.” He didn’t say that with any kind of malice. It was just a statement and again, it was true.

  “Yeah I know. This time though…let’s just say when he found out we took his new car out for a spin, and we got pulled over by the cops…and Emma tried to lie her way out of it…he was a little bit upset.”

  He laughed again and said, “That was the Camaro!”

  “Yeah. The blue Camaro that had a yellow scratch down the side of it from the pole she scraped when we went through the drive-thru at Mickie D’s.”

  “I do remember that. Dad was furious. He told her she was grounded until she was legally old enough to drive and then he would “re-evaluate the situation.”

  “Yeah, and then he called my dad and I got grounded for two weeks. My dad was mad, but he wasn’t the one with the dinged Camaro, so I got off light.”

  He suddenly looked really sad again and he said, “She loved to drive. She even made me let her drive the golf cart when we went out to the club with Dad.”

  “Yeah, she did,” I said. “I’m going to miss her so much.”

  He didn’t cry, but his eyes were suddenly a watery blue as he said, “Me too.”

  I stayed another hour. Ian and I swapped more stories about Emma. It was nice, he was the first person that I’d talked to since she died that knew her the way I did. I didn’t really know him…but I felt connected to him in a way. When I got ready to leave I told him, “I can give you my number…in case you feel like you want to talk, or if any of you need anything.”

  “Sure,” he said, “Thanks.”

  He took mine and gave me his and then I said, “I wish there were words to tell you how sorry I am for your family and how much I loved her.”

  “I know,” he said, “Me too.”

  Chapter Four

  Ian

  The week after Emma’s funeral was as depressing and surreal as the ones leading up to it. I was sitting at the kitchen table in my parents’ house about a week and a half after she died, staring down at a bowl of cereal I’d poured, but didn’t re
ally want to eat. I was wondering if things would ever be normal again. No one seemed to know how to move on. My mom spent most of her time sleeping. That was crazy because she was one of the most active people I’d ever known. I think it just helped dull the pain or pass the days…it was her way of coping, I guess. My dad was the opposite. He worked for a newspaper in the printing room. He was the manager, actually so he wasn’t expected or required to work more than his forty hours. Hell, he wasn’t even expected to be back at work yet. He told me he had to go. He couldn’t stand to be at home. All he did when he was home was remember that he’d never see his little girl again.

  My grandparents went home, but my Aunt Karen stayed to look after Mom for a while. I was grateful for that, because I hated leaving her alone when Dad was at work…but I know myself and a caretaker, I am not. I didn’t know what to say was the biggest problem. I wanted to talk about her, but it made my mom sad and my dad uncomfortable. I hoped that eventually they would be able to remember her out loud. Emma lived her life out loud and she should be remembered that way. I tried talking to some of my friends, but it wasn’t the same as talking to someone who knew her. She had this really quirky sense of humor and this weird way of chewing her food and her favorite animals were zebras, she had a whole collection of stuffed ones in her room. Things like that were the things I wanted to remember about her and talk about, but it was hard to do with people who didn’t know her.

  I thought about Alexa. I had thought about her a lot since the funeral. She was the only one since Emma died that I had actually been comfortable talking to about my little sister. She was sad like the rest of us, but she also seemed to want to remember and talk about the good times. I considered calling her but there was a part of me that felt weird about it. I didn’t really know her. She had been in and out a lot over the years with Emma but she was a kid and I was more often than not, wrapped up in my own issues, so I never paid much attention to her. Emma and I only got really close the past couple of years. I’d always been protective of her, but I hadn’t ever really taken the time to get to know her until after we were both grown. Once again, I’d have to blame that on how wrapped up I’d been in my own problems.