Calming the Riot

by Karen Renee

  I smiled and willed myself not to cry. “Okay, Momma.”

  She left the room, and my father turned to me. “I’m gonna walk your step-mother down and be back.”

  I nodded and watched them go. Jackie turned her big brown eyes to me. “You were not kidding about your father being a staunch conservative. As hippie as your mother is, I cannot imagine those two together.”

  I chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it, but sometimes opposites really do attract. Just not for very long. Did you remember the baby oil?”

  Jackie arched an eyebrow at me. “Yes. I foolishly remarked to Volt that I couldn’t imagine why you needed this much baby oil or why that would be an appropriate wedding gift to your new husband. If you don’t know by now, the brothers talk, and they’re worse than us girls. Andrea, I can’t believe—”

  Janie had moved to the mirror to touch up her lip gloss, but at Jackie’s words, she gasped. “Andi! That’s almost kinky or something. But tell me, was it good?”

  I smiled like the cat who got its cream. “No. It wasn’t good. As Liar puts it, it’s fuckin’ phenomenal.”

  The three of us erupted into peals of laughter just as my father came back to the room using his key, and his arrival only made us laugh harder.

  ***

  I wasn’t overly superstitious, but over the past eighteen months, I had learned that Liar definitely was. So, when our plans to leave our wedding through a tunnel of our friends and family blowing bubbles on us were derailed by a late evening thunderstorm, Liar was relieved. I wasn’t relieved. I was still holding my bouquet and didn’t know why we hadn’t done the toss with the single ladies, and all that jazz. It seemed time had gotten away from us, or more specifically the DJ who was supposed to be keeping everything running smoothly during the reception.

  “Nothin’ better than rain on your wedding day, Andi,” he said in my ear as Janie told the DJ to cue up the song we were going to depart to but would now dance one last dance to instead.

  We semi-swayed to “Stolen Dance” by Milky Chance, and I did my damnedest not to slip on the bubble and soap slicked floor. I had changed out of my wedding dress as soon as we were done with pictures, but my ballet flats were no match to the slippery dance floor. Liar was tuned to my difficulty because his arms and hands were gripping me tight.

  “What was your favorite part of today, Andi?”

  I smirked. “It isn’t over yet.”

  A knowing glint entered his eyes. “I know, but so far?”

  I chuckled. “This doesn’t say much about me, but your dad and your uncle bein’ drunk enough to sing that Cajun music and Beast pitchin’ in.”

  “Why doesn’t that say much about you? The Balfa brothers are great Zydeco singers. Besides, it was one of my highlights too.”

  I grinned. “I like it because it made my father cringe so damn bad and my stepmother wasn’t too far behind. They have to learn not to be so damn judgmental!”

  Liar’s head tilted, and he looked at a point over my shoulder for a moment. When his gaze returned to mine, he grinned. “I think Beast was showin’ off for someone.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I think you’re right. That made it even cuter.”

  He brushed his lips lightly over mine. “You ready to get the fuck outta here, Mrs. Huntley?”

  “Yeah,” I breathed.

  He jerked his head to the right, and I gazed in that direction. All of the single women were gathered there. “Then, toss those flowers quick, babe and let’s ride.”

  I tossed the flowers behind my back at the women, and Liar dragged me out to his bike. Jackie was running after us, yelling my name. I knew the rain would mess some things up, and sure enough, the plan had been for Jackie to get the baby oil to me while we ran out.

  “Liar, wait!” I stopped, and he lost his grip on my hand.

  Jackie caught me and handed me the bag.

  “Let’s go, Andi,” Liar called.

  I made it to the bike. “Open the saddlebag, please.”

  Liar squinted at me. “Whatever that is, we don’t need it, babe.”

  “Yes, we do, babe,” I growled.

  Liar begrudgingly opened the saddlebag, but my hands were wet from the rain, and I dropped the bag, and both huge bottles of baby oil tumbled out.

  “We don’t need—”

  I growled my frustration, then gave Liar my biggest eyes. “My wedding gift to you is a necklace you get to give me. So, we do need—”

  He grabbed my chin and tipped my face up. “Say no more, baby. This day is already a fuckin’ dream come true. Thank you for putting the cherry on top of it.”

  THE END

  SNEAK PEEK OF FOOLISH RIOT

  Eleven years ago…

  The blue and yellow tassel dangling from my rear-view mirror reminded me I had pulled off one helluva feat. Graduating high school looked pretty damn iffy two months ago, but thankfully I passed that chemistry exam. In another stroke of what seemed to be shifting luck, I had a full-time job, though it was a dead-end. That didn’t concern me much, at least not yet. I had cash in my wallet, and my father was cool with me staying home a little longer. Glancing past the tassel to the trailer Dad and I lived in, I put the car in gear. For now, I was still hanging with the smokers and stoners from school, and tonight we were headed to a party with a bunch of old friends.

  Hillary and Michelle were sharing a cigarette outside when I got to the party. Hillary dropped the butt to the ground. “About damn time you got here, Patricka. You’ll never believe who’s here.”

  “Don’t call me ‘Patricka,’” I grumbled.

  Michelle chuckled while nodding her blonde head. “Let it go, Patti. You remember Clint Smith and Gary Laughlin? They were two years ahead of us.”

  I nodded, though I barely remembered them. If I wasn’t mistaken, they were jocks and not people I cared about much.

  Michelle’s grin told me she not only remembered them but liked what she remembered. “They’re inside and didn’t bring anyone with them. Hope I can get Clint to give me the time of day.”

  Hillary shrugged a shoulder up to her bobbed brown hair. “I don’t know. There’s some other guys I saw, who are older than Clint and Gary. Lots to choose from, so let’s go inside.”

  When we walked into the living room, I was a little surprised. It wasn’t my first house party, and it wouldn’t be the first time I drank illegally. It was the first time I saw drugs at the ready. I recognized Clint and Gary with another guy, whose name I couldn’t remember. They were sitting on a couch leaned over the coffee table. The guy I didn’t remember was laying out cigarette papers while Gary dealt with the marijuana to be rolled in the papers.

  I moved beyond Michelle and Hillary into the kitchen. Milling about, I grabbed a few potato chips. It wouldn’t be good for me to try marijuana at this point. I needed a steadier job, and I knew drug tests were a bitch to pass. As I was pulling open the refrigerator door, a warm body settled behind me.

  “Lookin’ for a mixer, Paula?”

  I could smell the alcohol on the guy’s breath but turned to look at him anyway. Clint was right behind me with his dark brown hair falling slightly into his eyes. He was cute if you were into put-together pretty boys. I wasn’t. From an early age, my circumstances turned me into a tomboy, and I preferred guys to look a little rough.

  I shook my head. “It’s Patti. And, nope, not looking for a mixer. Just beer, but thanks.”

  Pulling a long neck from the door of the fridge, I closed it and turned back to Clint. He shrugged at me and smirked. “Whatever you say. Got some weed. It’s really good shit. You should try it. If that’s not your thing, we got some ‘X’ too.”

  I twisted the cap to the beer. “Keep that in mind. Thanks.”

  More than an hour later, I had lost track of Michelle and Hillary. It wasn’t the first time, but it still wasn’t good. As I wound my way back to the living room from the bathroom, Gary approached me with a smile on his face.

  “Havin’ a good t
ime?”

  I had a fair amount of alcohol in me, so I smiled a brighter smile than I normally would. “Yeah. You?”

  “Suppose. Wanna fool around?”

  Between him and Clint, Gary was rougher looking: his cheeks were scruffier, his nose more pronounced, and he had a small scar on the side of his lip. Maybe it was a case of ‘beer goggles,’ but he seemed attractive to me and I nodded. He grinned at me and lowered his head to kiss me. It was a good kiss, and his hands started roaming my body, so I reciprocated. He started moving us backward, and I knew the bathroom wasn’t too far behind me, but then he pushed us to the left, and I vaguely realized we were entering a bedroom.

  When my knees hit the edge of a bed, I giggled, and Gary chuckled. Once my body was flat on the bed, Gary stepped away, and I realized two other guys were in the room with us. Fear coursed through me and I started to sit up only to be shoved flat by hands at my shoulders.

  “No!” I screamed my shrillest scream. My Uncle Derrick inadvertently taught me about fighting back. I had failed against him, but then again, I was only thirteen when he forced himself on me. With all of my might, I was flinging every limb at Gary and whoever the other two guys were in the room. I didn’t connect often, but my thrashing and screaming kept them from getting my clothes off.

  However, all the screaming and kicking in the world couldn’t hold off determined men. Soon enough the person on my right put his huge mitt over my mouth and stifled my screams. The fear roiling in my veins turned to sheer terror because that hand included an arm which had me in a vicious headlock. Dear God! Could my luck be so rotten that I would be raped more than once before I turned nineteen?

  The door to the room flew open with a loud bang. Loud enough to be heard over the Nickleback CD which had been playing on repeat. The next thing I knew, a burly and mean looking man pulled them all off me. His bronze hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Then I mutely watched as he pummeled his fists into their faces. He looked like he might be around the same age as Gary and Clint. However, the way he used his fists told me he had seen a lot of life. I noticed he was wearing a black leather vest of some sort. It had a huge patch on the back with a fist held up in the air with a skull above it. Wings were darting out from the sides of the skull, and it was the coolest thing I had ever seen. Add the arched banner above it, which read ‘Riot MC,’ and I knew there was something special about this guy.

  He didn’t introduce himself to me, and he didn’t make much eye contact with me at all. I read his name patch after he finished with Gary. His name was “Roll,” and it was terribly fitting because God knew he rolled right over all three of the assholes who were going to attack me. I fell in love with this man right then and there. I would never be good enough for a knight in shining armor, but a big beefy guy in a leather vest, most definitely. No sooner had he saved me, than he left the premises. Problem was, I didn’t know his club. I didn’t know lots of things, but after that night I did my level best to find out what I didn’t know.

  ***

  In my quest to find out what I ‘didn’t know,’ I hung at every known biker bar I could get to. I even went as far away as Starke. Hanging at biker bars got me a reputation. My personal theme song was “Bad Reputation” by Joan Jett. It might sound hokey, but I believed everyone had a song that summed them up perfectly. I didn’t need or deserve the rep I earned, but with my theme song in mind, I didn’t give a damn about a bad reputation. Plus, thanks to that undeserved reputation, a few months later I finally got an invite to a biker party at a club compound.

  I never wanted to be a sweet butt or club girl, but the biker parties were wild, to say the least. Booze, smoking of multiple types, drugs of many varieties, and easy ass were the main attractions. I didn’t find the elusive Roll, but I found a biker willing to show me a good time. We went at it hot and heavy in the common room in front of tons of people, and I did not give the first fuck. When we were done, he told me to make myself scarce. It didn’t faze me because I’d been spending a lot of time observing how bikers behaved.

  I lifted my leg from his lap and righted my skirt. Then I strutted over to the bar. The only free space was next to a very tall, skinny woman. She had sandy-brown hair which contrasted with her blue eyes. I gave her a half-hearted smile, and she chuckled.

  “You’re good at puttin’ on a show,” she said.

  “Good to know you enjoyed it,” I quipped.

  She belly-laughed. “I like you. Never seen you around. You need a friend?”

  I shrugged. “Friends never hurt.”

  After a couple of drinks, I found out her name was Melissa, and she divided her free time between the Devil Lancers MC, the Leathernecks MC and Riot MC. We exchanged phone numbers, agreeing to hit another biker bash the following weekend.

  “Hey, Trix!” Melissa greeted me when I opened my apartment door to her the following Saturday night. Her light brown hair was teased all around her head, and she might have been wearing more makeup than me. I didn’t know where the Leatherneck compound was located, so Melissa agreed to give me a ride.

  “Hi ya. Lemme grab my bag, and we’ll go.”

  Melissa drove a small pick-up truck, but she drove it like it was a tank. I thought she was going to rear-end three different vehicles as she drove us out to Mayport. When we pulled into the compound, the brothers were all taking tables and food inside the clubhouse because a thunderstorm had opened up.

  Melissa and I managed to get inside without being completely soaked by the deluge. There were people everywhere, and the air inside was dense with smoke from the barbequed meat and the many people with cigarettes. I scanned the room and immediately noticed, Iggy, the Devil Lancer’s member I had a good time with last weekend. His legs were spread wide open, and a woman was kneeling between them. He had his hand on the crown of her head. His eyes were closed as she worked him with her hands and mouth. Well, he was a good time, but I’d be damned if I’d be sloppy seconds. I prowled around the room. Bikers lived by their own rules; I had figured that out quick. As I moved about looking for a beer or a cocktail, I ignored the multiple ass grabs I received. One guy was standing in my way of the bar; he looked down at me and grabbed my breast.

  “You skipped first base, dude,” I said pulling away from him.

  Space opened up at the bar, and I moved to it. A prospect behind the bar put a beer in front of me. I grabbed it and turned around to find Iggy standing in front of me. I was surprised to see him so soon since it had looked like the skank was taking her time. My mind scrambled on what to say to him, but I found my hand holding the beer suddenly empty.

  “Thanks for the beer, baby. We had a great time last weekend. Let’s do that again. I’m sure I can find us a bed somewhere or an empty couch at worst.”

  Seriously?

  I blew out a breath. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll have to pass tonight. See, I don’t play second fiddle real well.”

  Confusion passed over his face, but his eyes were not right. They looked angry but glassy. Too glassy for my tastes, which told me he was high and probably drunk too. He was tall and bulky. I knew from last weekend that the bulk he carried was mainly fat. He pressed forward to tower over me and pushed my back against the bar.

  “What do you mean, you’ll have to pass?” he said very loudly.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You just had some skank suck you off. I’m not interested in being the second act for you tonight.”

  His glassy eyes filled with fury. “I don’t care what you’re interested in, bitch. All a-you groupies are here for cock, and you’ll take my cock any way I want you to do it.”

  He downed the majority of the beer, slammed the bottle on the bar behind me, and then gripped both of my biceps. Blood roared in my ears as fear settled in my gut. His fingers pressed into my flesh and I could smell his beer breath as his head came closer to me, but I was shocked when my biceps stung because the guy was yanked away from me.

  A tall thin man with long brown hair said to him, “Go fi
nd some groupie who’s willing. Woman says she’ll pass, she’ll pass.”

  The Devil Lancer turned to take him on, but a burly sandy blond-haired man in a Riot MC cut stood in front of him.

  “Don’t even think of it. You take on Blood, you take on me too.”

  The guy’s crazed eyes scanned the cut the sandy-blond haired man was wearing and then he turned on his heel and moved to the other side of the room. I liked these Riot guys immediately.

  The two of them turned back to me. I had already gathered the dark-haired guy was Blood, and the bulky guy’s name patch said his name was Cal.

  “Thanks for that,” I said, with an apologetic smile.

  Blood gave me a once over. “You sure this is your scene, woman?”

  “Sure, I’m sure,” I said hitching my shoulder up at him.

  “All right,” Cal said. The two of them sauntered away from me slowly, but I still heard Cal say to Blood, “Let’s find Roll and get the fuck outta here. Melissa’s here, and I don’t want to run into her.”

  He was here! I hurried after them and asked, “Did you say Roll is here?”

  Both bikers turned to me stiffly. Shit! I forgot one of the cardinal rules about bikers. Bikers approached you, never the other way around. I gave them a shy smile and mentally crossed my fingers as they gave me assessing gazes.

  A gruff voice spoke from behind me. “Let’s go brothers. This party is not my thing tonight.”

  I gasped and looked over my shoulder to see the huge long-haired biker I’d been looking for. He looked at me sideways and gave me a chin lift. “Have a good time, sweet cheeks.”

  My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I couldn’t speak. I was frozen to the spot watching his great ass leave the party. Adding to my disgust, I did not have a good time that night. Melissa found herself a partner, and since I foolishly rode along with her, I was stuck people watching. The prospect working the bar had paid attention during the altercation with the Devil Lancer and kept me well supplied with beer.

  ***