by Bijou Hunter
“It’s a fruit. Why?” he asks, sounding irritated by the distraction.
“You know how Lily is a vegetarian now, don’t you?”
Pop exhales loudly, forever irritated by this recent announcement from my sister. “We’re meat people,” he says to her whenever she orders something veggie-based.
“I want to support her by eating more vegetables when we go out to dinner,” I explain quickly, “and I thought ketchup might count if it’s full of veggies, but it’s not so I don’t know now.”
“Eat whatever you want.”
“I want to be a good sister to Lily like Audrey is with me when I visit her in Tennessee. She always does stuff I like. Getting married made her nicer,” I say, feeling a little guilty for poking at that wound.
Pop’s dark eyes narrow angrily in response to my comment. “She was fine before getting married.”
“She smiles more now.”
“She smiled plenty before.”
“I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think you think it’s true either. I think you know you’re lying, but you can’t help lying because the truth makes you gassy.”
“I’m not gassy.”
“You look gassy.”
Exhaling roughly, he growls, “Rando.”
“Yes, Pop?”
“Did you enjoy your movie?”
“I didn’t go to the movies.”
“I know you didn’t,” he says, thrown off by how I don’t make him shake the truth out of me.
“Jim-Bean and his stupid son shouldn’t follow me. They’re not good at it. You should fire them and maybe kill them too.”
“I can’t kill a club brother.”
“Yes, you can. You’re the boss.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Pop says and rubs the back of his neck. “When a man joins the club, he becomes family. His problems are my problems. His family is my family.”
“You made a mistake with Jim-Bean. He’s no good.”
“He’s a good man.”
“Then why is he a criminal?”
“I’m a criminal.”
“I know, Pop.”
“Do you think I’m a bad man?”
“No, Pop. You’re a good man who does bad things. Jim-Bean is a piece of shit who needs to die.”
“You can’t talk about club guys that way.”
Leaning back on the couch, I smile. “Yes, I can. I just did.”
“I want you to stop.”
“No.”
“Rando.”
“Yes, Pop?” I ask, staring at him with my blankest of blank stares.
Pop studies my face for a long time, trying to figure out how much of my rambling is real. Often he gets a look as if he’s caught onto my con. He never calls me out, though, because deep down, he fears being wrong. What kind of man picks on his poor brain-damaged daughter? Not the sort of man that my father fancies himself to be.
“Where did you go if you didn’t go to the movies?” he asks, returning us to his gotcha moment.
“I had dinner with a biker from Shasta. I wasn’t sure I liked him so much. You know I don’t like bikers.”
“Rando,” he grumbles, whining as usual when I talk shit about his lifestyle.
“Then Rudy Roche and two of his weenie friends showed up and tried to act tough. Rudy even called me a bitch. The biker from Shasta beat them up so easily. You know how I like watching fights and he is good at fighting. Now I like him, so we’re going on a date tomorrow.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this to me?”
“I told you as soon as I got home. Like how I’m telling you right now.”
“When did you meet him?”
“After I ditched Jim-Bean and his no-good son at the movies, I went to Pickles in Paradise, and there was the biker.”
“He has a name.”
“I know, but I don't like learning names until I know the person is sticking around.”
Pop grumbles under his breath something about Hayes which is Audrey’s father-in-law. He’s also a giant man who likes the word fuck. Besides those two facts, I know nothing about him and don’t understand why Pop is bringing him up now.
“So you and Quaid decide to eat together, and then Rudy shows up, and now you’re dating Quaid?”
“I think he recognized me from that stupid backyard party in stupid Shasta. Quaid, I mean, not Rudy. Rudy knows me from Ellsberg.”
Pop shakes his head as if my babbling makes his brain hurt. I’m excellent at not smiling which is good since his irritation is making me want to laugh.
“I don’t like the idea of you dating Quaid. He’s too old for you.”
“And a biker. And from stupid Shasta.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Shasta.”
“It smells.”
“It’s near a rendering plant.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, I’m just telling you why it smells.”
“I still don’t care.”
Pop narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t want you dating Quaid.”
“I don’t care about that either.”
Growling like a rabid dog, Pop tries to intimidate me. I feel sorry for him when he acts this way, but I also understand how old men rarely learn new tricks.
“Pop, don’t be sad,” I say, reaching over to pat his hand. “Should I get Mom to hug you?”
“Rando,” he mutters, fighting his monster temper.
“Yes, Pop?” I ask, still patting his hand.
“I’m going to talk to your mother about this situation. Let’s see how she feels about you dating an older man like Quaid.”
“Be sure to tell her that he’s a biker from Shasta. But also tell her that he defended me when Rudy called me a bitch. That way, she hears the good and bad.”
I know my pop expected this conversation to go in a different direction. He hoped to shock me by confronting me with his knowledge about tonight. Then, I’d admit I lied and snuck away. Next, I’d confess my secrets, selling out Quaid and my self-interests. Finally, he’d fix the situation by sending away the naughty biker. In response, I would thank Pop for saving me from my vagina’s weaknesses. Happily ever after for everyone except maybe Quaid, but perhaps Pop just figures he’ll find another woman who isn’t a Johansson.
Now that I’ve put a Rando-style wrench in his plans, Pop falls back on the tag-team maneuver he’s successfully used for my entire life. I don’t blame him, but Mom won’t be any help. She’s never been good at playing the bad cop. If Pop can’t get the job done, it just ain’t happening.
Just as I planned.
THE CHAPTER WHERE FRICTION HAPPENS
THE OUTSIDER
River Rogers is Reapers’ club president in Shasta. He grew up in Ellsberg on the same farm I’m bunking at tonight. His parents, Vaughn and Raven, live just outside of town with their youngest four kids. They own a few acres of fields and woods where they raised children and pigs.
One of their porkers sniffs me while I sit by the firepit near my tent. I pay him little mind. My only concern is the back door of the farmhouse.
If Vaughn shows up to have a conversation with me, I’ll know Miranda’s plan didn’t pan out. I trust she knows how to handle her father. Though I suspect she underestimates how negatively a man like Cooper Johansson will react to his daughter dating someone like me. He knows more about me than she does. What he doesn’t know, he’ll learn from a quick call to River in Shasta. Cooper might be a killer, but that doesn’t mean he wants his daughter hooking up with one.
Vaughn never appears from the back door, but Raven shows up only a few minutes before I’m ready to crash in the tent and read a book on my phone. She walks barefoot on the neatly trimmed grass from the back porch to where I sit.
“Please tell me you like banana pudding,” she says, lifting the container in her hands. “I can’t have this in the house when Vaughn has the munchies.”
“Tell him to slow down on the herb.”
The hip
pie blonde hands me the container. “Don’t you want Vaughn relaxed when Cooper begins tossing around his boss-man weight?”
Without looking at the food, I study her face. “Why would there be a problem with Cooper?”
“Don’t play games with me, Quaid Reynolds. The gossip phone tree rang all over town after you were sighted with Cooper’s middle daughter. In fact, you better expect a call from River soon.”
“How do you suggest I handle that conversation?”
“Be straight about how Rando’s gotten under your skin, and you want to see how things go.”
Nodding, I prefer her version of the truth which excludes the original lie I used to get to Ellsberg. I guess no one expects a grown man like me to lose his shit over a young woman unless he’s a sick fuck. Since no one views me as a weirdo sex fiend, I retain the benefit of the doubt with the how and why Miranda and I met.
“I don’t know if I can eat all this,” I say, sizing up the weight of the plastic container.
“Why not?”
“I don’t like bananas.”
Raven rolls her eyes and swipes the container from my hand. “If Vaughn gets fat, that’s on you.”
“I didn’t make the food.”
“Neither did I,” she says and grumpily blows hair from her eyes. “Winnie’s been cooking for everyone.”
“I don’t know who Winnie is.”
“Shane and Shelby’s mother,” she explains, and I nod. Shane is my club VP, and his sister is notorious for telling people to bathe more. “Winnie has gotten weird since they moved to Shasta, and she cooks constantly. I assume she’s also smoking too much pot, and they won’t let her knit anymore.”
Smiling slightly, I reach for the container. “I’ll eat around the bananas so your hubby won’t pack on the pounds.”
Raven’s frown disappears immediately. I’m struck by how much her sons look like her, but they’re also huge like their father. The Rogers might be the blondest family I’ve ever met. Shane once said Vaughn and Raven were the Barbie and Ken of our biker crew. I hadn’t thought much about it. Now as I watch her long blonde hair sway back and forth as she returns to the house, I realize I’m surrounded by people too fucking pretty for this lifestyle. One punch to the face and they’ll never look the same.
The banana pudding isn’t bad, though I give half to the returning pig. I pat his head, missing my dog who often acted as the trash can for food I didn’t want.
Around ten, River calls as I rest in my dark tent. Turning down the sound of Eric Clapton’s “I’m Torn Down” just enough to hear my president’s voice, I mumble a hello.
“I shouldn’t need to explain how every breath you take from now on is a gift from Cooper Johansson.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s it?” he grumbles.
“What do you want me to say?”
“That you know Miranda Johansson is off-limits.”
“I don’t see why she should be.”
“Really?”
“She’s twenty-five. That’s well past the little-kid stage, and I haven’t made her do anything she didn’t want to do. Hell, River, you know her. Do you think I could bully her into anything?”
After a moment, River sighs. “No, I guess you couldn’t. She does get her kicks ratting out club guys to her pop. You should remember that, Quaid.”
“I remember everything, boss.”
Sighing louder, he doesn’t talk for so long that I turn down the music to see if he hung up on me. “Why Rando?” he finally asks.
“I like beautiful women.”
“Who the fuck doesn’t? Why not find one with not such sharp edges? After you spent so long in the trenches, wouldn’t a tenderhearted woman be a better fit?”
“Thanks for caring, but I don’t date women based on how they fit a checklist. They either click for me, or they don’t. Miranda does.”
“She won't like you calling her that.”
“Oh, I know, but Rando is a horrible name for a girl.”
“She likes cats. Call her Kitty.”
“Are you giving me dating advice, boss?”
“Yeah, and stop calling me that shit.”
This time, I’m certain River hangs up on me. I turn up the music and close my eyes. My thoughts return to Miranda in her little RV. Without a doubt, she’s thinking about me. What makes her special is how she wouldn’t feel any shame in admitting her feelings. Miranda owns her life in a way few people do. There’s freedom in her choices, and I’m relieved to know she’s chosen to extend our relationship to a second date. With Miranda, nothing is a given.
I sleep well despite the pigs regularly shaking my tent through the night. They’re restless about someone in their domain. I understand the need to protect their territory. My dog is the same way despite us living in someone else’s backyard.
The pigs are gone when I emerge from the tent just after dawn to take a piss. I’d guess the temperature is already in the mid-70s, and no doubt it’ll be hotter than hell by the time I meet Miranda for our picnic.
Heading into the house a little later, I use the family’s downstairs shower. Raven is a late sleeper, but she leaves out fresh apple muffins for anyone looking for food before she wakes. I find Vaughn on the side porch, eating his wife’s treats while playing “Fishdom” on his phone.
“When you’re seducing Miranda Johansson, see if you can get her to stop calling me ‘Don,’” he says without looking up from his game.
“Don, huh?” I ask, turning a chair around and sitting with my arms around the back. “What’s that about?”
“I wronged her in some way, so she refuses to use my name.”
“Seems like you should have been more careful then,” I say, fighting a grin.
Vaughn glances up at me with his bright blue eyes. “Laugh now, but you’ll see. One wrong move and she’ll start calling you Quack or Maid.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, taking a bite of the muffin. “Is there any work you need to be done around here before I head out for lunch with Miranda?”
“Clean up the pig shit.”
Grinning wider, I nod. “Is that coming from you or a particular boss man?”
Vaughn says nothing, but I catch him smiling behind his muffin. I only nod; accepting shitty jobs is the cost of time with Miranda. Having done worse for less payoff, I’m more than happy to clean up after the hairy porkers who kept me up half of the night.
Hours later, after working around the farm in the increasing heat, I take a second shower. Unsure exactly where to meet Miranda, I drive toward her parents’ house. It doesn’t take me long to spot a sexy troublemaker waiting for me.
Sitting in a folding chair and under an umbrella, Miranda waits for me next to the road leading to the Johansson house. My bike soon idles next to where she slowly stands. She smiles at me from under her brown and beige fishing crew cap. Her bare legs shine from her slip-on hiking shoes to the edge of her cut-off jean shorts. From behind my aviator glasses, I enjoy the sight of her loose white tank top clinging to her sweaty chest. The girl dresses down in the sexiest fucking way.
“Let me slide on behind you,” she says, picking up a small denim-covered cooler. “I’ll guide you to the river.”
Remaining silent, I’m afraid I might speak with the jacked-up voice teenage boys get when their dicks are running the show. Simply nodding, I glance back at where she slides onto my Harley and wiggles her ass to get comfortable. The girl will have me jizzing soon if she doesn’t stop all the non-flirting she’s got going.
Miranda directs me down the road to a small path at the end of the woods. We wind through the thick brush until she points to a nearly undetectable exit on our right. Not long after pulling down the overgrown road, we arrive at an open area overlooking the river. I park near the stairs leading down to the water. Miranda leaves the bike and walks toward a firepit with stone seating circling it.
“I took my first steps out here,” she says and sits on a smaller seat to make
abundantly clear she isn’t looking for me to join her.
Taking the Miranda-style hint, I get comfy in a spot across from her.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, leaning over to hand me a sixteen-ounce soda.
“Not really.”
“Me either. It’s too hot. Quaid, how come you sleep in a tent instead of a house? Doesn’t River pay you enough?”
“He pays me plenty,” I say, keeping my mouth shut about the money I stashed away during my years as a private contractor. “I’m not ready to settle into a place. The tent suits me fine. I use the shower in Chase’s house.”
“What about using the bathroom?”
“Nothing wrong with pissing in the bushes, and Chase has no problem with me using his toilet.”
“Chase is the bald one?” Miranda asks, wiping sweat from my red cheeks.
“No, he's the long-haired one.”
“That’s River.”
“No, River’s the blond, long-haired one. Maverick is blond too.”
“Does Chase have a lot of piercings?”
“No, that’s Doe.”
“Who the hell is Chase?”
“The guy with long dark hair and no piercings,” I say and then mumble with the bottle against my lips, “That I know of.”
“Do you have hidden piercings?” she asks and studies my crotch.
“No. How about you?”
“I used to have holes for earrings but decided to let them close over. Colton claimed someone could rip my earrings out and poke me in the eyes with them.”
“You’re blessed to have such a treasure in your life.”
A smiling Miranda kicks off her shoes and wiggles her toes. “He’s a gift that keeps on giving, but I still don’t know who Chase is. Will he hassle me when I come to visit you?”
“None of the Reapers will hassle you. Why would you worry about that so much?”
“Jim-Bean’s turd son talked shit about Lily.”
“Pretty obsessed with that, aren’t you?”
“He talked shit about my sister, and I couldn’t kick his ass. How is that fair? If it was someone else, I could kick him into another state. But club guys are protected.”
