by Turner, Xyla
“Well, yes, your honor. It’s not a gang but just a bunch of women riding motorcycles,” he replied flippantly.
My V.P. hissed under her breath, as my Treasurer looked ready to take off her hoop earrings. I held up my right hand to simmer them down.
“So, let me get this right?” The judge said. “They are both in these delinquent biker gangs and the lover’s quarrel is in my court?”
My mouth was wide open at this juncture because none of this could be believed.
“No, sir. With all due respect, you cannot compare the hobby that my client participates in with the outlaw biker gang that nearly smashed her face in. If you look at Exhibit A, there are pictures from the sheriff’s office with the two black eyes, gashes in her forehead, busted lips with multiple contusions. It was brutal and the biker gangs need to pay. This was not two gangs at war, it was not even a fair fight. It was a broken woman upset about her lover cheating and was nearly beaten to death by those menace to society bikers.” Talbert continued to argue.
This also fueled the fire of everyone on my row. The tension could be cut with a knife, as we silently seethed at the cruel words he was using to describe us.
“Very well, Counselor,” the judge conceded. “Bail is denied, and Mr. Hanner will stay remanded until the trial. The case is dismissed.”
We should have been happy, hell, even elated, but none of us were. Not even Mini as she turned and was glaring at the lawyer.
As soon as the judge left his seat, I made my way to Talbert and Mini, with unchecked rage. I vaguely saw the man that was sitting on the other side of the court, observing everything. At that point, he did not matter. Bitch-ass Talbert did.
“Where do you get off,” I hissed at the smug-faced lawyer. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking about bikers in that manner. You do know one fuck about bikers, their code, creed, missions or beliefs. They are not all outlaws, delinquents or even criminals. Mini’s club is not a hobby or just something she does for shits and giggles, it is a family and we look after each other. How dare you try to sit and perpetuate the negative connotations about bike clubs and you don’t know the first fucking thing about them. You might have won this case, but you’re off of it. You don’t deserve it. They said you were good, but you’re a smarmy bastard, spreading biker hate and feeding the propaganda. That wasn’t just for the judge because you believe that shit. So, go eat shit,” I snapped at him. “Mini, let’s go. I’ll get you a real lawyer and not this asshole.”
She shook her head, glared at him and we all walked out. The ladies had some other words for him but I didn’t stay around to hear them, since the courtroom was also my domain. As I turned to leave, I caught another glimpse of the man, who was rather handsome, smiling at me. My head turned to see what he was really looking at, but there was no one there. When I turned back to look at him, he nodded, as if to say hi. I scrunched up my face in response and walked out. He was apparently a friend of Talbert, the bitch, so he was definitely no friend of mine.
* * *
The Lady Guardian Headquarters
“Yep, it’s five o’clock and he’s outside again,” Cut, my Vice-President, announced to the entire compound.
Holding a club down with a group of thirty-three women was not how I anticipated rolling out of my late thirties. As my grandmother used to say when someone asked her age, ‘old enough to eat cornbread and not choke.’ That is what I felt like when someone asked me how I was the President of a women’s motorcycle club. This was no social club, because every member of the Lady Guardians must have a bike and if it is temporarily down, then we put the membership on hold until the bike was working again.
The shit is real.
All day, every damn day.
We’re a bike club and one pre-requisite was to have a bike. Everything is located in our by-laws and members take it seriously. This wasn’t always the case, when we were the Phoenix Riders. Everyone ran amuck, and that shit got real old, fast. Regina, club name Roe, the President at the time, was tired and more interested in the title than the work. Me and Cut, we worked our asses off, which made us popular amongst the other members. Therefore, when it was time for a changing of the guards, we not only dropped our previous club name but affiliated with the famous Legion of Guardians Motorcycle Club. Razor, the National President, was beyond cool and glad to have us join forces. It also helped that he and I shared the same ideology, which made our conversion seamless.
The Lady Guardians’ National base was in Reading, Pennsylvania, which was less than an hour from Manor, the national headquarters for the Legion of Guardians. The next chapter was in Norristown, which was headed up by Swag, who served as the District President, Razor’s former title.
Those men were top notch and not from just the rumors we heard around the county, but from firsthand experience. I would work with the Guardians any day, which is why the women voted thirty-three out of thirty-nine women to make the switch. We dismantled the group, rebranded and I wish I could have said the six that disagreed left.
No, they did no such thing.
Four of them decided to stay and continue to be a pain in my ass. Roe, the former President indulged their shenanigans.
I did not.
There was too much shit to be done to deal with infighting and foolishness like they would often bring to the table. The other members were sick of them too, but it was only a matter of time before they revealed their true motives and I was the type to let people hang themselves.
This ideology had a lot to do with my full-time job as a lawyer at Reid, Wilson and Ebon (R.W.E.). The nature of my line of work was either to attack or defend. As the president of a bike club, those rules seemed to be the same but a tad bit different.
“Justice, that man is outside.” Brooklyn, my club secretary, mentioned in passing as she made her way to the kitchen.
The woman was a cook in another life, which no one at the club, minded. The only problem was when she went on a diet, the entire club had to go on one too.
“Yo, grab me a water,” I yelled to her back. “Appreciate it.”
“You’re just going to ignore the fact that this gorgeous guy has been staking out the place for the past few days. It’s like the man comes from his job and just sits out there for a few hours.” Goldie, my club treasurer, decided to insert her opinion.
I patiently waited for my water because she wasn’t getting a comment about the man outside. No, I had not a mere comment. I knew who he was, some biker-hating friend of Talbert who probably wanted us to do something illegal. Or some other crazy thing, people assumed bikers did. I did not even want to know what he thought lady bikers did, so therefore I ignored the man outside. Even though I could see him from my office.
Oddly enough, I knew that he didn’t plan to stop showing up unless we talked, so maybe I secretly refused to talk to him to see how long he would keep coming. There were other women bikers and clubs not too far from us. Hell, one club formed under another charter after we denied them from joining the Lady Guardians.
Apparently, he was not interested in them. Maybe the man wanted retribution because I made his friend look like a toddler in court. Despite my leather, affiliation and status with the club, I don’t think he knew that I was a lawyer. This was a fact that I liked to keep separated.
The law was my first love. There was something about right and wrong, that made me feel safe and provided comfort. Ambiguity and grey areas seem too loose and chaotic for my liking. I took my job very serious and even in my late thirties, I kept studying because laws changed regularly. I wanted to be prepared for the unexpected.
The unexpected, like the man waiting outside of the compound, as if he was paparazzi or a reporter.
“You’re just not going to address it, huh?” Goldie asked as she passed me the water that she nabbed from Brooklyn. “He won’t talk to no one else but the President. He’s been saying that for days, now.”
“Thanks for the aqua.” I nodded and went to my off
ice.
We had five new chapters that came under us, but two of them had already been established. There were five wonderful Presidents that I had the pleasure of meeting in various locations. The National Lady Guardians were the beginning of something magnificent and women all over the country were excited and wanting to be a part of the network. Especially since we were backed by the Legion of Guardians.
I had the privilege of working with him on a joint venture that took down the guy that stalked and assaulted one of our members.
The Guardians were inclusive, thorough and accommodating. They were also extremely helpful with the setup of new chapters and other established clubs that came under the Lady Guardians. Having them as a covering provided more authenticity and we were taking more seriously. This meant more to me than it did to others because of what we represented and how much it mattered.
Drinking my water, my thoughts ran to the man who was outside waiting to speak to me. I had seen him standing in the courtroom as he watched with amusement as I lit into his friend’s ass. Why the hell he decided to come to my clubhouse, was yet to be known. However, I would not lose sleep over it, plus I was a firm believer in birds of a feather flocking together. I didn’t know what his occupation was, but the three-piece, tailored suit, said businessman or something in the corporate world.
I had other fish to fry, so my focus was on reviewing the new clubs coming under the National Chapter.
The first on the docket was the Lady Guardians chapter from Arlington, Virginia and their President, Stella Trent. The actual club had been around for over twenty years, so it was well-established, and we were excited to have them join the ranks. I was set to visit them soon, but Stella and I have been playing phone tag. I shot her an email, so we could narrow down some dates.
By the time I left the compound, it was well after eleven o’clock. I did not have any dinner and the bottle of wine looked quite appetizing as I walked into the kitchen to find it and a glass of water on the counter. Inside the refrigerator was expired eggs, cheese, mayonnaise, pickle juice with no pickles and grape jelly. Nothing, I could make a meal with.
Living in the suburbs of Pennsylvania in a newly renovated townhouse, the closest thing that was open, was well over an hour away. Reading, Pennsylvania was not the happening place like Lancaster or Philadelphia. Though, the location was inconvenient for a night owl, like me, I did not want to live in a college town between the two bustling cities. I was too close to forty and me and college students, did not mix well. My patience was short when it came to the insane privilege they held, which is something I had to teach my intern.
I worked as a lawyer for seven years at Reid, Wilson and Ebon. In the office, most people knew me because of an affair that I did not have. Unbeknownst to me, the guy I was sleeping with, six and a half years ago, was engaged to another woman that used to work at the office. How was I to know this tidbit, when I was new to the company? Hotter than fish grease, was the understatement of the year. I was also embarrassed but determined to make the best of the messy situation.
When it was brought to light, I was seen as the adulterer and I had not even been the one that actually cheated. I was cheated with, unknowingly. All of this in my freshman year at the firm, prepared me in more ways than one to survive those people. I didn’t fuck around with men, no matter what they said. Since a lot of them tried to get with me after the cheater’s exposure, I was a pro at turning them down. Women made a lot of assumptions, but I let my work speak for me. Eventually, people gave me a chance, got to know me for who I was and the work that I produced rather than the rumor I was involved in.
Now, on to the topic of my personal life. Well, there was no personal life. It was me, my job and my club. The Lady Guardians were transformed from a barely surviving entity to a thriving one. We had several rules and they included the following:
Must be a woman
Must have a bike
Must believe in the mission of the organization
There was little to no negotiations for anything else because it simply wasn’t time. I tried to occupy myself with everything that involved anything but me. My passion included women’s rights, education and social justice for all women. Including the mission: We aim to be guardians to those in need while reflecting the values of sisterhood, biker camaraderie and of supporting the larger biker community as well as our local communities.
Bikes were my passion and that came from my father. He was a bike mechanic, and the man could fix anything on two wheels. Every motorcycle club member knew it too. He’s always in business and has his own shop in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Sometimes the members would pay extra for him to come along their road trips, and when I was young, he’d take me. This ignited my love of the brother/sisterhood of a club. I had been around many, and some were toxic, while others were great. My love for both spurred my attempt to become a member of a club that I thought was outstanding. However, little did I know about the by-laws at eighteen. Women were not allowed. I could be a hang-around, chat it up with the guys, but never wear the colors or pledge. Hell, by the time I was eighteen, they wanted to do more than chat, but I liked that club because they had always been respectful towards me. Until that fateful day, they did the old Little Rascals routine and told me that no women were allowed to join. I coined them as the He-man Woman Haters after that.
Then some years later I heard about the all-women clubs, and I hopped on it. Probably a little too soon, because it turned out to be very different than I was used to. The women were catty, and the President allowed the loud mouth wenches to run her, and it drove a wall in between the members that were loyal and everyone else. I stayed because I thought I could have an impact on the reorganization of the club. Cut thought so too, because I was voted as the Vice President but shortly after, Roe resigned. She told me, that she felt comfortable doing this because she couldn’t take the club where it needed to go. I wasn’t sure that I could either, but I respected her decision.
Now the club was under my reign, but that also meant I had to deal with the persistent man outside. The same one who would only talk to the President.
That was me.
This concludes the end of Chapter 1 of Justice by Xyla Turner. To order your copy, click here.
Additional Chapters
Preview all of the Lady Guardian novels by clicking on the following links.
Justice by Xyla Turner
Ride for Free by Hadley Raydeen
Forgiven by Reana Malori
Onyx Rides by Celeste Granger
Hampton Roads: Isis by Y. M. Sheree
Back Off by Toye Lawson Brown
About the Author
Xyla Turner is a USA Today Bestselling & award-winning, bestselling romance author. She was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, an avid reader of romance novels and a sucker for sassy women and dominant males. She is a high school educator and an awesome Auntie. Outside of reading, Xyla likes to spend time with her family and friends and travel. She writes different genres, but her favorite is romance.
Xyla is the founder and proud member of AuthorGo. The network that brings readers and authors together.
Join Today
Follow Xyla Turner
www.xylaturner.com
[email protected]
Also by Xyla Turner
Legion of Guardians Motorcycle Club Series:
Just Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (1 - eBook & Audio)
Let’s Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (2)
Just Right: Legion of Guardians MC (3)
Just Dream: Legion of Guardians MC (4)
Dream Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (5)
Double XX Series:
The Chase: Part I & II
Line of Duty Series:
10:80: Line of Duty Series
10-99: Line of Duty Series
10-24: Line of Duty Series
Stetson Series:
By Chance, No Choice: Stetson Series
Meet Me Halfway: Stets
on Series
Far Rockaway University Series:
Love Under Attack: FRU Series
The F Student
Bookstore Chronicles Series:
No Returns: Part I & II
Bookstore Chronicles III
Non-Series Book:
BOMBSHELL
Across the Tracks
Power of the Pen
Extraction
Cole
Take A Knee
Warren
XYLA’S CONTACT INFORMATION
Xyla Turner can be reached at the following locations!
Facebook/ Xyla World / Twitter/Facebook Group/GoodReads/YouTube
Click to Join Xyla’s Mailing List
Text Alerts: Text EZXYLA to 313131
Join Xyla’s World!
Engage with other readers about your favorite authors, subjects and qualify to win prizes?
Stay Connected to Xyla Turner by downloading her mobile App.
Currently on Apple and Android devices.
Mailing Address:
AZINA MEDIA
C/O: Xyla Turner
237 Flatbush Avenue, #187
Brooklyn, NY 11217
f
