“You might find he just needs time, Al. Laid a lot on the man yesterday.”
I’d like to think that, but I need to be sensible. “I can’t change the one thing that needs changing. My past.”
“Time,” Drummer repeats. “Truck’s got to rediscover himself as a man, got to build himself back up the same way Blade and Sam are going to build him a bike. His life’s changed completely. You need time as well. Time to find out who you really are, and what you want to be.”
I look up at him. “I can’t see I can be anything else other than what I am. Else why would I have chosen the life I’ve lived for the past dozen years?”
A sharp look. “I doubt very much that this would have been your preferred career path. What choice did you have?”
He knows my history, knew I was thrown out of home when my mother thought I was promiscuous at sixteen. I don’t try to sugarcoat my past. “My brother, he might have been much younger, but he already showed he’d gotten the brains in the family. Lessons went right over my head in school. I’m no good at math, Drummer. I don’t even write very well. Reading a book is beyond me.”
“I didn’t know,” he admits.
My shoulders rise and lower. “A teacher suggested there might be a reason for it and suggested I get tested, but Mom said I was just lazy. I don’t know, perhaps I was. I found everything too hard. Much easier to look out the window and daydream. Yeah, I was the stupid one in the family.”
“You’re not stupid,” he says with a bite in his voice. “Far from it. Don’t talk about yourself, that way, Allie. Okay, so schooling and you didn’t get on, but that’s nothing to measure common sense by. You’ve got a stack load of that. Don’t put yourself down.”
My lips press together. “Even you have to admit, my options are limited, Drummer.”
Suddenly he barks a laugh. “Never had to be an occupational advisor before. But take some time, you think about what you’d like to do, and I’ll put my thinking hat on too. What do you like, Allie?”
Again, I shrug. I don’t know. Maybe he’s right, I do need some space and time to think about what I can do with the rest of my life.
“Tell you what, I’ll see how Satan’s Angels is fixed. Might be able to get you behind the bar.”
Glancing up again, I crease my eyes, wondering if he’s serious. “Behind the bar here, I don’t need to know how much shit costs or take money and give change.”
“Told you before, don’t put yourself down. That might not be as hard as you think.”
“Waitressing I could do.” I’m thinking about the Wheel Inn, the restaurant the club owns.
“That’s a thought, too. In the meantime, I know we expect you to tend bar here, but the rest of the time use as you want. It’s your future we’re talking about.”
“I don’t want to be here long, Drummer. I couldn’t stand—”
“Want my view?” Again he interrupts, and continues without waiting for my nod. “Don’t give up. Truck’s got a lot on his plate. Seems to me both of you need some thinking time. While you’re doing that, make this place your home. As I said, I’ll give you a small budget to get any furnishings you might need.”
“What’s the point, Drummer? If I’m not going to stay here long enough to make use of them?”
“Who knows what’s going to happen Allie?” He says it with a hint of finality. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to sort yourself out. Oh, this is yours.” He presses the suite key into my hand, then takes out an envelope from his cut and hands it to me. Then, he leaves.
Bemused, I stand then turn around. The first thing I notice is how quiet it is, and it strikes me I’ve never been alone in my life. First I lived with my mom and brother, then shared a room with another streetwalker. When I came to the club, I shared with Jill, then Chrissy and the other girls.
This suite is my own home, my sanctuary. As far as I know, the adjacent one is empty. It might only be temporary, but at least Drummer’s given me a refuge all to myself.
I look down at the envelope he’s handed to me, and tear it open automatically. A pile of dollars flutter to the floor. Scooping them up, I count them. Five hundred dollars?
Stunned at his generosity, I put the money in the bedside table drawer, not sure what to do with it, wondering why he’d given me so much money I hadn’t earned. Ask him? That might look like I was throwing his gift back in his face. Drummer’s a man who knows what he’s doing. Maybe the right thing is just to thank him.
Opening cupboards and drawers, in the closet I find some plain sheets and a comforter, so I make the bed first, then consider going up to the sweet butts house to grab my clothes and toiletries, but I’m not eager to go into explanations which I don’t understand myself. Bewildered at the change in my circumstances, I slide open the door and look out over the balcony.
My own suite. I never expected this.
A new start. A new me.
Suddenly I don’t want to collect my clothing that barely deserves that name. Instead, I grab the bills Drummer had given me, stuff them into my wallet and put that in my purse. Then, with determination, I exit the suite and go down to borrow a car once again.
I’ve got shopping to do.
Chapter Fifteen
Truck…
Peg had allowed just sufficient time to get the furniture I’d decided to bring with me installed in my suite, before he came to collect me.
“This is how it’s going to work, Truck,” he tells me as we’re walking down toward the clubhouse. “Today we’ll assess what muscles we need to work on, and I’ll draw up a plan of how we’ll be doing this. I’ll give you daily exercises. You’ll be answering to me if you don’t follow through.”
Answering to the sergeant-at-arms is what I don’t want to end up doing. Before I’d have been able to take him on, though bets would have been laid as to which of us would have come out the winner. In the state I am now, the man who wears a prothesis could take me on without his prosthetic leg, and with one hand tied behind him. I grin at his warning, but by the stern expression on his face, realise he’s not joking.
“I’m going to work you hard, Truck, and you’re going to fuckin’ hate me. But I’m determined to get you riding again.”
“You forget, I’m used to hard physical work. Running up multiple flights of stairs with a full firefighter’s pack was something I did regularly.” As a firefighter, during our twenty-four hour shifts, much of the time was spent hanging around for a call out. We used that downtime for working out and training.
“I’m well aware of that.”
Yeah, Peg would be. He’s married to a firefighter after all.
“Do you mind, that Darcy’s gone back to work?” Their son, Noah, is a few months old now.
“Mind?” Peg rounds on me, his face going red. “Of course I fuckin’ mind. Don’t want Darcy putting herself in danger. You…” He breaks off without completing his thought. I guess he’s saying I’m an example of what can happen.
“But,” he leans in, conspiratorially, “no one else knows this. She’s pregnant again. This time I’m hoping she’ll give up work and look after the kids.”
He might be right. But I know how a firefighter feels. It’s in the blood, that desire to serve, to protect and save. To fight fire, that one unpredictable enemy. I say nothing, which is probably for the best. Whether or not she keeps working is between husband and wife.
“Congratulations,” I say, belatedly. “You going to tell everyone else?”
“Yeah. Darcy and I agreed last night. She’s reached the twelve week mark, so we’re going to go public.”
Good. I don’t like holding onto a secret I might let slip accidentally.
This morning doesn’t sound like it will be too much effort. Peg will just be drawing up a program and seeing where I’m up to, I think, as I follow the sergeant-at-arms into his second home. The gym.
Originally most of the equipment had been installed for him when he’d come back from his service missing half a leg. He’s added to i
t over the years, and it was here he’d got Sophie, the VP’s old lady, back on her feet. Well, one flesh and blood leg, and the other a fake one. You’d never know when she’d arrived here she had been confined to a wheelchair. Of course, I hadn’t known her then, but had heard the story.
“Hey, Tommy. Come here and meet Truck.”
A man who’d been wiping down the parallel bars walks across, his gait a rolling one. He’s big, tall and broad, and has a big smile on his face which fades when he looks from Peg to me. He doesn’t say anything at first, just moves his hand to his face as if suddenly worried his own might be scarred.
Then, he says, quietly and concerned, “Oh, man. Does it hurt?”
I’d tensed. I’d expected people to show disgust or horror, but Tommy is only worried about me. “Nah, not so much now.”
Tommy’s face goes blank for a moment, then he brightens. “You’re the fireman.”
He must have heard the talk in the clubhouse. “I am,” I confirm.
“You finished now, Prospect?” Peg asks.
Tommy nods, puts down his rag, and leaves us alone.
The sergeant-at-arms stares after him. “He’s good people, Truck.”
“He was on the streets?”
“Yeah. Street smart, though otherwise slow. What could we do? Couldn’t throw him back out there, so he’s staying. Won’t ever be able to ride a bike, but as long as he’s wearing his prospect cut, I don’t think he cares.” He turns back to me. “Right, let’s see where you’re up to.”
I hastily revise my thought that this morning is going to be easy. Christ, I thought my captain had been a hard enough taskmaster, he doesn’t come close to Peg. I lift weights, then he adds to them. I reach what I think is my limit, he shows me I haven’t. Even rehab starts to become a pleasant memory, and those training days at the firehouse? I start looking back on them fondly as a walk in the park.
Peg isn’t satisfied until I’m struggling to breathe and sweat’s pouring off of me.
“That hand.” He doesn’t stop, but lets my legs take a break. “Squeeze this.”
I squeeze the squidgy ball he’s handed to me.
“Again.”
I do.
“Again.”
And again, and again.
My hand hurts, my arm aches, my legs have lost all feeling. At last I collapse on the mat with him standing over me.
“Okay,” he waves a chart at me, “we’ll increase the weights daily. Go take a shower and rest now. Be back here first thing tomorrow.”
I doubt I’ll be able to move in the morning.
At last, released, I go to my suite and wash the sweat off me, standing under the hot water letting the heat seep into my sore muscles. Then, I dry off, spy the bed Roadkill and Hound had transported and set up for me, and crash onto it.
Before my tiredness wins out, I smile. I’m a man used to physical activity. I’m used to being pushed to my limits and beyond. While every part of me is screaming, I relish the pain that comes from well worked muscles. It’s been too long since I’ve felt this way. Exhausted and worn out, the last thing I hear before I lose the battle to keep my eyes open is the banging shut of a door from the suite opposite mine.
I’d thought it was unoccupied.
A moment wondering who’s living next to me, then sleep takes me under.
My forty winks turns into a much higher number and when I wake, a few hours have passed. Stretching, an ouch comes from my mouth, and I doubt there’s a part of me which doesn’t protest, but it’s a good ache, different from the pain of my injuries. Gingerly I stand, dress, put on the cut which still feels so good to wear and make my way down to the clubhouse.
Entering, I notice it’s full.
Babies are being nursed, toddlers played with, and Sophie, Sam, Marcia looking on fondly. Becca is cuddling Darcy so I reckon her news has, by now, been shared. Over by the bar, their old men are looking fondly on.
Avoiding the happy families, I make my way over to Road and Marvel standing at the end, hopefully discussing something that doesn’t involve procreation or diapers.
“Hey, Truck.” Road stands aside so I can make my way to the bar. His eyes examine me for a moment, then he chuckles. “I can see Peg’s put you through your paces.”
“You can tell?”
“Yeah, unless you’re sporting one fuck of a boner.” Marvel laughs. “You looked a bit stiff as you walked in.”
“That would be Peg’s work,” I agree. Then hurriedly add so there’s no miscomprehension, “Not a boner, but yeah, my muscles are fucking sore.”
I turn to get a beer. Peg might not have made my cock stand to attention, the sight before me, however, risks me embarrassing myself. Allie is patiently waiting for whoever needs serving to step up. She’s wearing another of those fifties’ style dresses, this time in a black and white pattern. It’s nipped at the waist emphasising how slim she is, and reaches down to her knees. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and she looks absolutely adorable.
Her eyes widen when she sees me, then, without me having to put my request in, anticipating my needs, she hands me a beer having popped the top off.
I barely have time to thank her before she’s called to serve at the other end of the bar, and can’t stop myself watching her ass as she walks away. A memory of how good it felt to be inside her comes back to me, then Road asks something, and, as I turn to answer, I remember that he, and his companion, also know that feeling.
Why did she have to be a whore?
“A fully electric bike would be the last resort,” I answer him, when I’ve composed myself. “I’d be back on two wheels, but it’s that vibration, the roar from the exhaust, that’s part of the exhilaration.”
“Agreed. And safety’s a consideration.” Joker interrupts our conversation. “A loud exhaust warns you’re coming.”
“I groan, myself,” Marvel chirps.
Road slaps him around the head. “We’re having a serious discussion here. Don’t want to know about the sounds you make when you fuck.”
“Hey, Al. Who’s the loudest when they come?” Marvel yells at the woman behind the bar.
Her eyes meet mine. For a moment they widen in horror, then become resigned as she manages to choke back, “A lady never tells.”
“You’ll be asking her who’s got the biggest cock next.” Road shakes his head.
“What?” Marvel doesn’t look contrite. “You think they never talk about us? We discuss them. Now Allie there,” he points his beer bottle toward her, “she’s got this way of…”
Abruptly I push away from the bar, not wanting to hear details of any of their encounters with the woman I’d otherwise want. Can’t deny it. One look from her and I’m ready to go. Trouble is, I may have been one of the last to fuck her, but I was at the end of a very long line.
As I turn, I catch sight of her and the expression of loss and resignation on her face. Something twists in my gut. Instead of moving away as I’d intended, I swing back.
“Allie’s not a whore any longer,” I snarl at them. “Show her some respect. She’s heard every word you’re saying.”
Marvel looks stunned, and his mouth snaps shut. It opens, then closes. He resembles a gaping fish, but I have the sense not to point that out.
Road casts a look toward Allie, then back at me. His eyebrows rise. “Suppose you’ve got a point there, Brother.” He slaps Marvel on the back. “She’s off the market now, man. Reminiscing about how good she was in the sack won’t be bringing her back.”
“You sure about that?” Marvel asks, unaware how close he is to getting punched. “She might well reconsider when she realises what she’s missin’.” He rubs his crotch.
The hand that I can use forms a fist. I’m just about to use it to plant in Marvel’s face, when Allie steps up.
“Sorry boys, but I’ve been there, done that. Nothing so spectacular that I want to go back.”
Her eyes meet mine as she speaks, and there’s a message there. Sh
e doesn’t mean me. I turn away before I can see the hurt in her eyes.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” Marvel states. His glare toward her back as she walks off after her parting shot worries me.
But Road gets in before me. “She’s not a sweet butt now, Marvel. As Truck said, show her some fuckin’ respect.”
“No, she’s not,” Marvel responds, still looking unhappy. “But if she’s not, and she’s not an old lady… What the fuck is she still doing here? What’s she doing to earn her keep if she’s not working on her back?”
“You got a beer in your hand?” Road asks, reasonably.
“Hey, Marvel, Road. Want some company tonight?”
Pussy, I sigh with relief, has excellent timing. With her breasts, barely contained in her top, rubbing against Marvel’s arm, it doesn’t take long for him to be distracted.
His arm snakes around her. “Yeah babe.” His eyes flick to the centre of the room where the old ladies are gathering up the kids, then back to Road. “Better use a crash room. You coming?”
But Road shakes his head. “Nah. Maybe later, Marvel.”
Hmm. As I watch them walk off, I wonder how gratifying it really is to be a member and now able to go with sweet butts. To be honest, I’d prefer a woman to myself, not one to use after one of my brothers has had her that same night.
But each to their own. Left with Road, I remember I have a question. “Who’s in the room next to mine?”
His eyes crease. “You’re in Beef’s old suite, aren’t you?” At my nod, he continues, “No fuckin’ idea. But hey, let’s go ask Rock. He might know.”
I follow Road over to where Rock is holding his baby, Rose. He’s a big tattooed biker. Against his chest, his daughter looks tiny, but the love on his face is shining through. Something clenches inside me. I thought I could have that. Before that fucking cat took everything from me.
Nah, life has worked against me. What woman would want me now, looking like this, and so damaged? A man who can’t even ride a bike.
Unaware of my thoughts, Road asks, “Rock, who’s in the suite next to Beef’s old one?”
Rock looks a bit surprised by the question. “No idea. Don’t think anyone is. No one’s moved in from what I’ve heard.”
Truck Stopped: Satan's Devils MC #11 Page 14
