She looked livid, and seemed ready to pounce, which would have been a big mistake on her part. Although my mother, I’d gladly take her down a peg or two.
“I think you better get out of here before I lose my temper,” I warned.
“This is my house. No one tells me what to do in my own home,” she shouted, spilling her drink on the floor.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Calm down, Mum. Why don’t you get another drink before you have a heart attack.”
She didn’t find that amusing and charged at me. “You little bitch. I’ll teach you not to talk to your mother like that.”
I stood my ground and pushed her away. She fell drunkenly to the floor. If she wanted a fight, she would get one. She sat on the floor glaring at me, trying to decide what to do next. Luckily for her, she made the right decision. Pushed herself up from the floor, she patted down her blouse and looked at me before turning around.
“You’ve got minutes to get out of my house then I’m calling the police.”
That was fine with me. I’d packed what I wanted.
She walked unsteadily down the stairs. I felt nothing but pity for her.
Five minutes had passed before I made a move to get up. My head was pounding. I went into the bathroom and opened the tap, letting the water run until it was ice cold, then I splashed my face and used my wet hands to cool my aching neck and shoulders. I cursed her for winding me up. I lifted my head and stared at my reflection. I didn’t like what I saw. “Fuck it,” I yelled and smashed my fist into the glass. It didn’t break, which left me feeling pathetic and weak.
I honestly didn’t want anything to kick off like that. I hoped I could leave on good terms, but our broken bridges couldn’t be mended.
I walked down the stairs with my suitcases and set them down near the front door. Mum was sitting in her armchair, staring out of the front window, a full drink in her hand. I didn’t blame her. I needed one right then.
Even with the anger I was feeling, the bond between mother and daughter was strong enough to break down the portion of hate I felt towards her. I remember thinking that it could be the last time I would see her and I refused to leave without saying goodbye. But I knew I wouldn’t have it returned. Her stubbornness wouldn’t let her turn and look at me once last time.
“Mum,” I said gently and heard the quivering in my voice. Fuck! If I cried now, if I lost it and broke down, then she would win. There was no way in hell I was going to let that happen “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave like this. I want you to know I’m happy and doing well. Take care, and tell Dad I love him.”
She didn’t answer me.
I wiped my face, picked up my bags, stood up straight, and took a deep breath before walking out of the house for the last time.
Who should be driving past at that exact moment? None other, David. The tyres screeched, and he jumped out of the car. “Jade, is that you? Jesus, it is, isn’t it? God, you’ve changed. I almost didn’t recognise you.”
He looked good. His hair was longer, yet he was the same David, wearing the same clothes I remembered.
“Hi, David. How you doing?”
I didn’t want to chat with him and wasn’t interested in how he was. It occurred to me that I had nowhere to stay and no transport to the station.
“Are you busy? I could do with a ride.”
“Yeah, sure, jump in, we can catch up. You can tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself. God, you look amazing, you’ve changed so much.”
I smiled, but my heart wasn’t in it.
He talked non-stop. I told him I was working in a hairdresser’s salon, (the best I could come up with at short notice) and that I was still living with my cousin. He didn’t need to know the truth. He told me he’d been thinking a lot about me. Yeah sure, I thought. Well, I’m sorry David, I haven’t thought of you at all. I wanted to say that aloud, only I needed a ride. I did apologise for the way we broke up, and I was sincere about it. I felt bad about the things I’d said. He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, though I could tell it bothered him. He asked if I was ever coming back. I lied and said I would be back often to see my mum.
It seemed to take forever to reach the station. I knew I would have to wait at least four hours before the next train; I hadn’t planned on going home the same day.
David asked for my phone number.
“I don’t think so,” was my reply.
We said our goodbyes and I thanked him for the ride. I watched him drive away, along with all of my past.
The Tyrants didn’t recruit members, and they didn’t allow hang-arounds or prospects. They had grown up together and shared their childhood. They had a bond, and no stranger could compete with that. I was a member. I wore their colours, but I didn’t own a motorcycle. I got the impression that Marcus didn’t want me riding with them.
I persuaded him that it would be beneficial if I learned how to ride a bike. I used an example of him being too intoxicated to ride home and for me to be able to give him a lift. I understood that he didn’t want a female riding with them while on a bike run because that honour fell to the guys. Luckily, he understood the need for me to learn. I didn’t tell him that after I was competent, I was going to get a license and buy my own bike. I loved being on the back of a bike – the speed and freedom – but my hands were itching to get on the throttle.
I spent a week riding around an empty supermarket car park on Marcus’s motorcycle. He said I was a natural. It didn’t take long until I was comfortable riding around the town but I was still wasn’t confident enough to do so at night.
Ever since talking to him about learning to ride, I’d been secretly saving money from the job I had in a boutique and the handouts from Marcus. I never questioned where his bike came from. Any Harley Davidson motorcycle, is expensive, but a Crossbones they weren’t cheap, even second-hand ones.
Apparently, the Tyrants didn’t involve themselves in illegal activities like most well-known motorcycle clubs. The only income we had was made legally. Even so, I had my doubts.
Mick didn’t come from a wealthy family, and he didn’t have a particularly well-paid job and yet he was never short of cash. In all the time I’d known him, I’d seen him with three different motorcycles. I never brought up my suspicions, and as far as I knew, Marcus never questioned him.
We were out on another night ride. Marcus sat behind me as I rode the Harley down a narrow street. A guy staggered out of the pub and into the middle of the road. I slowed down and tried to swerve around him, but he noticed me and for some reason, decided to attack. Grabbing hold of my helmet, he lifted the visor, reached his hand inside and tried to grab my face.
I squeezed the brakes, kicked the stand down, and jumped off the bike, throwing myself at the guy before Marcus had a chance to get to him. Never mind that the man was built-up like a rugby player, I was irate and didn’t think twice about laying into him. I forgot about Marcus. My rage was such, I didn’t even think about my own safety. I used all my strength to slam the guy into a parked car on the side of the road. The force was enough to set off the car alarm.
“Jade, come on,” Marcus yelled. He ran back over to the bike and started it up.
Lifting up my knee, I struck him in the gut. He fell to the ground as I ran to the bike and jumped on the back. Marcus took off down the road before anyone came out to investigate the alarm.
I was breathing heavily, and my heart was still pounding. As well as anger, another emotion crept up, fear. Fear of what could have happened if I’d been on my own. If Marcus hadn’t been there, how far would I have taken it? How would things have turned out? I started shaking from adrenaline. I had to keep my anger in check. What was I thinking, taking on a guy three times my size? That was the problem, I wasn’t thinking. I realised that kind of attitude could lead to danger.
Marcus only made one comment about the incident, and he smiled before saying it. “I pity anyone who gets on the wrong side of you.”
A year flew
by, and I couldn’t have been happier. Life was going well for all of us. I had a few chances to show my fighting skills to the gang and felt they respected me more for it. There weren’t many fights with other gangs that year, and so, when I did use my fist, it would be with another woman who I thought had flirted with Marcus. What woman wouldn’t? He was a gorgeous looking guy. But if I was going to keep him, I had to lay claim on him and fight off the competition, just as Monica tried to do with me. I think if it weren’t for my looks, I would have lost him to someone else.
At the time, I would tell myself the innocent deserved the beating she got from me and would make a big show of my toughness. I liked to think I was a good fighter, but I have yet to meet my match. You see the guys didn’t fight the females, and why should they? That was up to me, so whether it was one on one or three against one, they stood on the sidelines and let me get on with it. I handled things well, only once did Marcus intervene.
The woman’s name was Tania. Everyone knew Tania, especially the guys. She had a rep around town. If you ever saw the name Tania scribbled on the toilet doors, it was a reference to her.
I’d arranged to meet the guys somewhere, and as I turned the corner, I saw Tania talking with Marcus. She noticed me standing a few metres away, whispered to him, and then left in a hurry.
I curse myself for not putting two and two together. Only women were always flirting with him, and he enjoyed the attention, but it wasn’t very often that one would have the guts to walk up to him and flirt in front of my face.
I strolled up to Marcus. “What the hell was that all about?”
“Just a chick I know, cool it, hey. It’s nothing to get upset about.” He must have seen from the expression on my face that I was vexed because he warned me in a serious tone. “Drop it, you hear.”
“Sure,” I said and shrugged as if it was no big deal.
But it was, and I was going to find Tania and have it out with her. I believed that if I allowed just one woman to flirt with him in my presence, that would make him fair game, which he certainly was not. I wanted word to get out that no one was to mess with my man.
I waited a few minutes, and then made an excuse about having somewhere to go. I went to find her. She was close by, but not alone. They weren’t biker chicks, quite ordinary looking. I just didn’t realise how tough they were. I could have played the hard bitch, walked straight up to her and punched her in the mouth, only I decided to play this one cool. They noticed me straight away, and from their body language, they knew what I was looking for.
“Tania,” I called.
She could have run. Instead, she walked over to me composed, without fear.
“What can I do for you, Jade?” she answered, as sweet as pie.
“Oh, so you know who I am? Then you also know that Marcus is my man and I don’t appreciate a slag like you sliding in when my back is turned.”
“Who’s sliding?” she answered sarcastically.
I didn’t allow her any more comments. I lashed out and smacked her in the mouth. She hit back, and soon we were in a violent scrap, right in the middle of the busy street. I was getting back as much as I was giving. Fortunately, her mates stayed out of it. If they could fight as well as her, I was in big trouble.
I guess I should have expected that word would get back to the Tyrants. Within minutes, they were standing around watching. By that time, we were rolling on the floor punching and slapping one another. Marcus was the last to arrive. Apparently, he was going back to his bike when someone told him about the fight. He went ape shit.
“What the fuck,” he shouted, dragging me off Tanya as I kicked and screamed. “I thought I told you to cool it.”
He was pissed off about something, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with me not listening to him.
“What the fuck is going on here?” he asked.
“She started it,” Tanya said. “Didn’t know you were protected, Marcus. You always said no one owns you.”
Her smile cut off when he slapped her around the face.
I should have realised what was going on, but I was too happy with Marcus belting her to care about her comment. He didn’t say any more about the fight and never warned me off anyone again.
At that time, I enjoyed fighting. It was a great way to keep fit and let off steam, and as the guys used any excuse for a brawl, they expected me to do the same. I couldn’t be just a lover to Marcus and a friend to the Tyrants, I had to show I was one of them. I loved my life and felt fortunate to get a chance to live. I was determined to do anything in my power to keep from losing my happiness. Anything! I learnt how to be cruel and vicious. It was the new me.
I’d been working at a small boutique in the town’s shopping centre for the past eight months. I loved the job and was very good at it. I was due for a promotion at that time, and quite happy to run the shop alone, I was practically doing it anyhow.
But it didn’t start out that way. I remember the time I almost lost my job, if it wasn’t for my quick thinking. I’d only been there two weeks when the manager called me into his office.
“Please take a seat, Jade.” He pointed to a chair, and I sat down.
I anticipated what was coming. I’d been waiting for it.
“I am going to be blunt.”
Here it comes, I thought.
“I do not feel you’re cut out to work in this boutique.”
Seated behind his oak desk, he folded his arms to stop them from shaking. “I believe you’ll be better off working somewhere else.”
Ready with my reply, I leaned in close. “Mr Branshaw-” I paused. “Or may I call you Phil?”
“Phil is fine,” he stuttered.
“Let me cut to the chase, Phil… I know why I’m really in your office about to get fired, and I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I can’t do my job, or that I’m not suitable for your boutique. Am I correct so far?”
He nodded his head in reply. I could tell I was making him feel uncomfortable, and I was enjoying every minute. There was no way I was giving him the satisfaction of making me feel bad.
“I can only guess that you’ve heard that I associate with a street MC. Actually, an outlaw motorcycle club would be the correct description.” He shifted in his chair. “If you’re so worried about the fact that my fiancé (it sounded better) is the president of the Tyrants MC, then surely, you’d be too scared to fire me, wouldn’t you?” I stared at him and then smiled. “If you think about it, Phil, having a member of the Tyrants working for you is a bonus. You’re protected – if you understand my meaning.” I watched his reaction. “Let’s just push that to one side for a moment.” I moved my chair closer to his desk. “Am I good at my job?”
“Well ... yes, you are,” he shakily replied.
“In fact, isn’t it true that your sale figures have increased in the time I’ve been here?”
He looked surprised. I’d done my homework.
“Err ... yes,” he agreed.
“So wouldn’t it be wise to keep a valuable worker like me on?” I waited patiently for an answer. “I’ll tell you what ... I’ll make it easy on you. Give me a month, and if you don’t see your sales figures rise, oh, let’s see ... twenty percent, then you can fire me. Do we have a deal?”
Phil looked taken back. Nevertheless, he agreed to the deal, and we even shook on it. His hand was clammy. I’d gotten to him, and it felt so good.
We didn’t speak for the next week. I imagined he was avoiding me. I slogged my guts out for that shop, just to prove a point to him, and myself. After a month, he called me back into his office and told me that sales had gone up thirty percent and that he was lucky to have me as an employee. I waltzed out of his office with my head held high.
Marcus and Dylan were still working at the building site, and coming home every night covered in dust. Dylan was quite happy to slave along in his job. Marcus, however, felt it wasn’t taking him anywhere. It just wasn’t challenging enough, and he w
asn’t able to show his true potential. He thought of himself as an exceptional builder and wanted to have a go at designing, and constructing his own building. He dreamed of having his own business, and have every one of the Tyrants working for him, and as that included two plumbers, an electrician, carpenter, mechanic, and roofers, it didn’t seem such a faraway dream. He had the determination and skills to set up his own business. I wondered what he was waiting for.
Marcus was still the leader of the Tyrants, and we still hung out together, cruised around, and went to bikers’ conventions and beer festivals. But the gang scene had been quiet for some time. No big clashes, just small bar brawls, most of which we started.
Dale had become a landlord of a bikers’ bar in the centre of town. His position meant he didn’t hang out with us very often. Still, we saw him almost every day, as we made the ‘Spider’s Web’ our second home. It belonged to the Tyrants now, and to any other biker who would show us the respect we deserved.
That month, I saw a side to Marcus I didn’t like. I knew he could be violent, and that he loved to fight. He once told me he couldn’t control his rage, and that sometimes he would get into such a state he’d become an unstoppable force. He pitied anyone who was on the receiving end. He laughed at his own statement, so I thought he was joking. He wasn’t, as I was about to find out.
Myself and the Tyrants were out one cool evening, strolling along the street and minding our own business (as if), when a nice-looking bloke on the opposite side of the road made eye contact with me and smiled. He was walking with two of his friends, and too engrossed in me to listen to what they were saying. I looked away, which is when I saw Marcus’s eyes fixed on the bloke.
He’d seen the eye contact, and luckily for me, saw I wasn’t interested. My hair was always getting me attention, which was why I never cut it. Heads always turned when I walked past. However, this guy was making it obvious that he was interested. Usually, men wouldn’t dare look at me for more than a few seconds, but this stupid man kept ogling. He seemed oblivious to the fact that Marcus had noticed. When the bloke finally realised what a dangerous situation he was in, he looked away, and his pace quickened.
In Times of Violence Page 9
