Forever Ride

by Chelsea Camaron

  Jason’s the one who gave me the location of the car, saying everything’s been scouted. It is an easy in and out. Step by step, he has given me instructions on what to do. As a minor, if I get caught, the penalties are less harsh and those records get sealed. Jason is nineteen, therefore the risks and punishments are much higher for him. So this one is all on me.

  Removing the cover, I swing around to the back, adding the stolen license plate to the car. There’s no need to give the cops more of a red flag since the car currently has no tags. Climbing in the driver’s seat, I run my hand over the steering wheel. She is one fine piece of American machinery, and I’m practically giddy when I see the key ring is dangling from the ignition. The turn of the key, the stroke of the engine as it turns over, coming to life under me—it is a moment of power and control. The rumble of the motor sends vibrations through the old building.

  I’m just getting ready to put the car in gear when I look up and come face to face with four bikers all aiming their guns at me through the windshield of the beauty encompassing me. Shit just got real.

  Raising my hands in defeat, I stare down the biker who is walking over to me. Today may be the end of my road, but I won’t show them any fear.

  “Cut my car off, boy,” one of the bikers commands.

  He is huge. Tall and built he has long, brown hair braided in the back with a goatee and tattoos coming down both his arms. Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at the others who are just as mean in appearance. They have since lowered their weapons but are watching me like a hawk circling its prey.

  “Get out of the car, punk ass,” another one with short, salt and pepper hair orders. His goatee is an even mix of gray and black, matching his hair.

  Doing as I’m told without hesitation, I can’t stop my mind from worrying over my mom and sisters. What will they do with me gone? My family is going to lose the only man left to protect them. Mom has always told me to stay clean, don’t fall to the temptation of a quick dollar. Too bad I didn’t listen.

  “What’s your name, boy?” the long haired, burly biker that apparently owns the car asks, stepping up to me.

  “Franklin Thomas Oleander,” I answer, steeling my voice to one that shows no weakness, no fear. He may kill me today, but he won’t break me.

  He tucks his gun back into the waistband of his jeans against his back, obviously feeling I am not a threat. Truth be told, I’m not a threat, not to him and his crew. They could each crush me with their bare hands. I am still filling out, and since Mom can’t afford much, I make sure my sisters eat before I do, which means I am skinny and rough around the edges.

  “You got a death wish, Oleander?” The other three bikers remain back, letting the one man handle me on his own.

  “No,” I answer firmly.

  “Apparently, you wanna die. Why else would you be dumb enough to touch my car?”

  “Umm…” I have no answer. Seeing as it is his car I was attempting to steal, I am faced with two options: man up and take what is coming to me or cower down and beg for my life. Well, no one ever calls me smart. “You gonna kill me, kill me. You wanna beat my ass, beat my ass. Whatever you’re gonna do, just do it.”

  Laughing in my face, he responds, “You’ve got balls, kid. Not many grown ass men would step up and take what’s coming to them. Get back in the car, start it and follow me. If you detour, I will find you, and this will get a whole lot worse. Let’s go.”

  I do as I am told, adrenaline building inside of me. I’m not dead yet, so maybe this will be okay after all. He could have called the cops when he found me, but these men don’t strike me as the law-abiding type. Nor do I think they would call for help when they can dish out their own kind of punishment.

  Following the bikes, we pull into the Hellions’ motorcycle club compound. Everyone in Haywood’s Landing knows who the Hellions are. Why didn’t I pay better attention in the barn? I should have known with the leather cuts, guns and motorcycles who I was dealing with. I park the car beside where the guys have stopped their Harleys then get out and wait by the driver’s side door.

  The long haired biker is definitely the one in charge. He is barking orders and pointing inside the building in front of me before he makes his way over to me.

  Before I can speak or move, he yanks me around by my shirt. His arm comes around me into a head lock as he drags me violently behind him. We make our way inside the compound, no one says a word to us or to help me. I grab at his thick forearm, trying to relieve the pressure around my neck.

  “Bull, get your ass out here. Your punk ass nephew needs some words,” the biker yells, squeezing tighter with his arm.

  Bull, who the hell is Bull?

  He releases his grip on me, shoving me forward. Two arms grab me then and pull me steady. Looking up, I am face to face with my uncle, Kenny.

  “Franky, what the fuck? Why are you here and why is Roundman dumping your ass in front of me?”

  “Umm…” is all I manage to stammer.

  “Your boy wanted to go on a little joyride,” the burly biker, who is apparently Roundman, says with a snicker. “A joyride in my fuckin’ car.”

  “Fuck. Franky, what’re you thinking? Have you lost your damn mind? Your momma is gonna kill you and me both.”

  “Laney needs shoes.” It slips out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop myself.

  I don’t want to be rich and wouldn’t have agreed to steal the car for a simple joyride. My mom is two months behind on the electric bill; it’s going to be turned off any day. We have never had cable television, and currently, we don’t have a phone because it was disconnected three months ago. If it weren’t for food stamps and the left-over scraps from her job, we wouldn’t have food most days.

  My sisters get good grades and are innocent to the damage our dad’s past brought down on my mom. Hell, Bonnie was only eight and Laney four when he was killed; neither of them really remember him. He wasn’t around much when he was alive anyway. They do vividly remember two days later when the goons showed up and took everything out of our house to repay my father’s debt, though.

  That’s right. They took everything, down to the very mattresses we slept on. My mother’s jewelry gone, including the macaroni necklace I made her in kindergarten. It took time, hard work, and long hours for my mom to raise the money just to get us to North Carolina where her sister lives.

  Her sister, Aunt Marsha, got her a job and set us up in the small two bedroom trailer we live in. I sleep in the living room so my mom can have a bed to rest her tired feet in at the end of a long day. Pride has always kept her from telling anyone how bad our finances are.

  “What do you mean Laney needs shoes?” Uncle Kenny asks, his face distorted in anger and concern.

  “The electrics about to be turned off. Laney needs shoes. Bonnie needs clothes. And Mom is working herself sick. I’m the man of the house; I gotta help. I was given an opportunity, so I took it.”

  The swift movement of the back of his hand coming across my face doesn’t register with me until I am on the floor, spitting out blood.

  “Fucker, you call me. You don’t go steal shit.”

  As soon as I am standing, the next blow comes—a punch to the gut. My breathing is coming in hard pants as the room spins around me. Trying to catch my breath and remain standing is almost too much. Before I fall to the ground again, two arms are holding me up by my shoulders.

  “Enough, Bull,” Roundman commands from behind me.

  Turning me to face him, he smiles at me as I fight to breathe regularly and my face is rapidly swelling. “Boy, I get you’ve had it bad growing up, but it’s time to learn about family. You want to learn about brotherhood, son?”

  I can only nod in agreement. What else is there to say?

  “You’re young, but you’re strong. You’ve faced what you’ve done with pride. Still, you’ve got a debt to pay for touchin’ my car, and you’ll start repaying it next weekend. We’ll take care of your momma and your sisters; ge
t them what they need. The Hellions are gonna make a man outta you, boy, and teach you what your daddy obviously didn’t.”

  I nod once again in agreement. As I breathe deeply, I realize the man in front of me is cutting me a break, which is something no one has ever done for me before.

  Roundman meets my eyes as he continues, “Life may hand you a shit deal in the cards, but you have to show that motherfucker no one controls you. Rise above it, boy. Make something for yourself, your mom and your sisters.” With that, he turns and walks away.

  Afterward, Uncle Kenny takes me home and agrees not to tell my mom about the shit-storm I’ve escaped today.

  One bad choice has changed my life. The path before me that has once been unclear and filled with more struggles than I care to think of, suddenly opens to a world of possibilities and the chance to do something with my life.

  Roundman and the Hellions turned everything around for me.

  Chapter

  1

  Unsettled

  ~Sass~

  There are times in life where things change so much nothing seems the same anymore. Yesterday becomes some far off dream of what once was. The things that have brought me to this place feel like a faint, far off memory.

  The logical side of me still screams strongly that walking away from my family, from everything I know, and from the Hellions motorcycle club is what any sane person would do. I am a grown ass adult. The lifestyle decisions of my parents should no longer dictate the choices I make with my own life. The bubble that I grew up in has popped, reality surrounds me now.

  Life with Nick is safe. No crazy-ass road trips. No crazy fucker putting cameras in my house. No wild parties. No runs where the men in my life are gone for days without a word of their safety or location. Life with Nick is calm. We’ve come a long way from that first meeting one night at a bar. Doll and I met him before the Delatorre situation hit the fan. Nick and I went out a couple of times before I left. While I was away¸ I wasn’t sure what I would do when I returned home. Nick was supportive through it all. Coming home to find Tank in a coma, Nick has been the normalcy I’ve needed. He’s the opposite of everything I’ve ever known with the Hellions and I need that now more than ever before.

  The chaos surrounding the Hellions slowly disappears from my world as each day passes. Sure, I know my mom misses me and my dad is upset that, outside of doing my job, I refuse to have anything to do with the club. It is hard to give up everything I’ve ever known, but my life is better this way.

  Doll and Caroline are the ones who understand my reasoning the most. They are my best friends. After everything we’ve been through in the last year, neither have pushed the issue of why I left the club life. Doll is an ‘ol’ lady’ now. Tripp recently proposed and she is planning her wedding here on the coast. Caroline is wrapped up in some mess at work so Rex is stepping in to help her. Caroline wants none of this, but she’s backed into a corner. There is no way out of her current situation without help from the club.

  I miss having my best friends around. Hell, until the ride we had to take because of Delatorre, Doll and I were roommates. Caroline lived with us in college, but she stayed in Charlotte when Doll and I returned to the coast after graduation. Now that we’re safe and Doll is with Tripp, she lives in Catawba with her man and his charter club. She is in love and feels safe, so at the end of the day, I am happy for her. Caroline claims she has no time for love. Her focus is on her career and I support that. They have their lives there and mine is getting started here.

  After returning, I made the decision to give things with Nick a serious try. We moved in together not long after my return. He is stable. Things are good. However, the one thing left of my old life I can’t seem to let go of is Tank.

  He is in the hospital because of the Delatorre situation, and the coma he hasn’t come out of in almost eight months weighs heavily on my heart. There is so much I never got to say to him. I have actually said a lot of it now, but does he really know I am here and I am talking to him? The doctors say he can hear me. They tell me the last thing a person loses is their ability to hear, so I should keep talking to him every chance I can. Therefore, each morning, after Nick leaves for work, I spend an hour at Tank’s bedside before I go off to my job. A job where I once saw Tank every day he wasn’t on a transport.

  The whole thing started when Doll and I were sent on a ride across the country with Tripp and Rex. It was to keep us safe since Felix Delatorre threatened Doll. While we were on the road, the Hellions back home handled Delatorre and his crew. I don’t know all of the details of what happened in the warehouse that day, only that Bull, Perry, Pearl and Coach were all killed. I know that Roundman eliminated Delatorre, but the specifics have not been discussed. Tank, Bandit and Jag were all injured, but while they have since recovered, Tank has not.

  They don’t know why he isn’t waking up, either. His body has completely healed. However, his mind has not.

  The majority of our trip was relatively easy compared to what everyone back home was facing trying to eliminate Delatorre and the threat he posed. Rex and Tripp took care of keeping Doll and I safe. We only had one major incident, though it’s one that will forever be ingrained in my soul.

  Doll and I have been inseparable since childhood, my survival sister in this crazy life. The instant Tripp’s arm comes up to signal he will be turning off and Rex is to continue on forward then circle back around, my heart skips a beat. Watching my best friend pull off at the exit while we have to continue on crushes me. The millions of ‘what ifs’ are playing on a loop in my mind.

  Rex and I continue on and circle back around as instructed, and when we finally pull up to a rundown gas station, my heart drops. I can see the Hellions cuts on the back of the men as they are guiding a group of Hispanic men at gunpoint behind the restrooms. What I don’t see is Tripp or Doll. Rex taps my thigh, a signal for me to get off the bike, as he removes his helmet. Rex is not the serious type. He takes life as a ride; simple, carefree, face what comes when it comes. At this moment, however, he is stern and unsmiling as he looks at me.

  “Sass, we’re gonna head to the restroom and get Doll. Given where the guys came from, I’m sure that’s where Tripp sent her. You don’t leave my fuckin’ side, though. If more guys show up, you get to the restroom and lock yourself in.” He hands me a small handgun and nods at me.

  I nod back in understanding. Yes, I know how to fire the weapon. Doll and I have spent as many hours shooting as we have shopping. It is the Hellion way of life—control the chaos, command when faced with the extremes, and never be without your brother and your weapon.

  Well, I am without my sister right now and it is time to get her.

  Finding courage and resolve I never knew I had, I follow Rex to the restroom. I can hear the faint whiz of the shots being fired and the men hitting the ground nearby. The boys may be using silencers on the guns, but it is still evident when you are close by what is going on. Connections will be called, markers used or owed; this mess will be cleaned up without a trace in a matter of hours. If Doll is safe, it is worth it.

  Relief washes over me as my best friend comes to the door when I knock and call out to her. I can hear Tripp in the other restroom talking, but the sounds are too muffled to comprehend.

  We walk with Doll over to the bikes while we wait for Tripp. Tears are streaming down Doll’s face, and I’m at a loss on how to make this better for her. When Tripp emerges, she finds her calm within the storm with him.

  Thinking back to that day gives me chills.

  Before we left on the ride, I had decided the biker life wasn’t for me. Stupid teenage fantasies had me read more than there was into the friendship I had formed with Tank. After one hookup the night of the barbeque, things changed for me. Tank’s easy dismissal of me made it clear where I stand with him. It’s more than that, but his rejection confirmed it, club life isn’t for me.

  I’m building something solid and long lasting with Nick. He’s not my knight
in shining armor, Prince Charming, or any of the stuff fairytales are made of—none of that shit is real anyway. He’s reliable, kind, gentle and attentive. He’s safe. He’s secure. And he wants me. This is what I want—to be the center of someone’s world, not second to a brotherhood, a club.

  Why do I still feel there is something missing, though?

  ~Tank~

  Darkness. Shadows. Blackness. Gloom. Sadness. I am engulfed in obscurity, vagueness and murkiness. Oblivion. I am not completely gone, but I’m not altogether here, either.

  Lost. Tumbling. Absent. A soft voice comes through; gentle, kind, loving and sad. Her voice, her presence, breaks the numbness consuming me. My girl is here. The light in the dark. The sounds of her, the feel of her, knowing she’s here pulls me through the shades of black. The citrus smell of her invades my senses.

  I fight to open my eyes. I want to see her. No, I need to see her and the depths of those emerald green eyes that once danced in my presence. I crave that connection. I fight with everything in me to see her, but my body remains unresponsive to my command.

  She is touching me. I can feel her squeeze my hand and rub my arm. It’s a relaxed brush, a tickle almost.

  Come on, Tank; move your hand, I think to myself.

  Dammit, I can’t do anything. Fuck, I need her to know I am right here with her.

  “I have to go to work. Roundman and my dad will be by later to see you. I’ll come back tomorrow,” I hear her say with somber undertones.

  She is carrying a heavy burden. A weight I want to lift away. I can feel her sorrow. Why? What is bothering her? Is it my situation?

  Why can’t I wake up and tell her it’s going to be okay?

  Her hands move off my arm and hand. I feel her push off the bed and lean over me. She brushes her hand through my hair and then touches her lips ever so softly to my forehead.

  “Bye, Tank. Until tomorrow. Come back to us,” she whispers so low it’s barely audible.