Page 2 of Duke

“I’m getting the hell out, too. Where are you heading?”

Looking over my shoulder, I see her standing in my doorway. She’s petite, but a fucking knockout for an older woman. Damn, I don’t understand how my old man bangs all these hot chicks when he treats them all like shit. Maybe, they think he’s some sort of badass god for starting one of the most powerful MC’s on the West Coast. But to me, he’s only my douche-bag father—sometimes cool, but most of the times nothing but a prick.

“California,” I answer gruffly.

“Me too, they say it’s the land of dreams. Can I bum a ride?”

“What’s wrong with your car?” I nod to the beat-up Chevy parked out front visible through my window.

“I just wanted to leave under the radar, you know?” She answers, swiping a tear.

I shake my head, not willing to get caught up in whatever mess my father started. “Sorry. I’m going alone.”

“I get it. You’re smart. I hope you go far Duke.”

I look up sharply, surprised she knows my name, but I don’t reply. I just race past her out the front door, down the steps to the detached garage.

My hand grabs the pull and with one strong tug, the door lifts revealing the bay littered with tools and auto body parts.

Ripping off the cover to my work of art, I get ready to ride.

“You better make it. It’s a long way to California,” I command. But I know she’ll make it. I re-built every piece of her.

Opening my piece-of-shit father’s toolbox, I lift the heavy pan filled with screwdrivers, and pliers, finding the thick envelope underneath. It’s filled with money; blood money he earned riding and doing illegal shit.

I’m taking it.

It’s the only way I can screw him; the way he’s screwed me and so many others. Looking up, I see my father’s mistress followed me like a lost kitten.

She is so lost, even I can see that. Her eyes are haunted. She looks like a broken doll that was once loved but now is forgotten. There’s a few grand in the envelope. Sighing, I open it.

“Here.”

Taking five hundred, I slap it into her palm, shoving the rest in my back pocket. I put my helmet on, kick off, and race away into the dark summer night.

It’s not long before I reach the city limit sign. Pulling off to the shoulder for a second, I rev the engine and flip the town the bird goodbye.

“Mama, can you make pancakes tomorrow?”

“Sure, sweetie.”

Closing my eyes, hugging my teddy to my chest, I smell mama’s perfume as she leans down tucking me in.

She brushes the hair from my face and cups my chin, “Promise me you’ll always be strong, Shanna.”

“Okay, Mama,” I reply sleepily.

She turns off my bedside lamp, humming under her breath.

“Mama?”

“Yes?”

“What does it mean to be strong?”

She sighs, looking past me out into the dark. “It means don’t let anyone, especially a man let you forget your dreams.”

“Huh?”

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