Page 14 of Gypsy's Lady
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“Hey, Lawman, get out here. I got something for you.” Doug twisted around on the barstool and frowned towards the figure silhouetted in the doorway. It was Youngblood, one of Winger’s men. He owned amotorcycle shop here in town. “Come on, slowpoke. Jesus, the man wants to know what you think.”
Doug drained the last swallow in the glass and set it down, tucking a bill under it to cover the single beer he’d had. Youngblood had the door open and Dougstiff-armedit when Youngblood stepped away, swung it wide again and walked out to the lot. There were a dozen bikes parked near the building,and Youngblood was standing in front of a crowd of men positioned near the most beat-up and battered piece-of-shitbike in the row.
It had been a month since he’d first met Mason, weeks flying by with rounds of barely tolerated work shifts followed by hours at a time spent in the company of one Rebel or another. He knew exactly what this was: a hang-around period. A calculated segment of timeallowing Doug to try on the Rebels’ attitude and mission. It had the added advantage of allowing them to try him on for size, too.
A club, a real one, was built from the inside-out with layers upon layers of collective experiences. Those combined with a deep loyalty, working together to create an unbreakable fabric. They went from individuals tobeinga group of men who would trust a patch brotherwith their lives, because sharing a patch meant you sharedidealsand goals, meant you went about things in the same way, cohesive and strong. Clubs crafted in this fashion remained solid, regardless of the number ofchapters,because time and distance weren’t a factor.
Even the club’s motto was a promise. Rebels forever, forever Rebels told every member that as long as they held the club first,the club would have their backs.
“You wanna know what I think?” Doug laughed when Youngblood nodded, expression serious. “I think it looks rough as shit. How many garage sale wrecks did you have to cobble together to fix Frankenstein here up?”
He stepped forwards, fingers trailing along the handlebars adjusted just about right for a man his size.
“She’s got good bones, though.” He placed onehand on the leather seat, pressing hard and shimmying the bike back and forth, grunting at the effort it took. “She’s tight as a whore’s ass in church.” That earned him a laugh, then Youngblood leaned forwards and tossed a small ring of glittering metal to him. Doug caught the keys one-handed, tipping his head to the side as he lookedatthe man and the bike, swinging around to see every memberofthe loose ring surrounding them were smiling.
“Ride with us, see what you think.” Doug twisted to look at the speaker, finding Winger had joined their group at some point. “Put your money where your mouth is.”
Doug knew the smile on his face was broad, and he’d likely catch shit later for being so excited, but he didn’t want to hide it from these men who had recognized his longing and takensteps to get him what he wanted. “Hell, yeah. If you’ll have me.”
Youngblood chortled as he turned towards his own bike, laughing as he semi-repeated Doug’s words, “If we’ll have you. You’re fuckin’ funny, man.”
Five hours later, the mass of bikes made their second stop, this a joint pitstop for gas and a quick meal. It was nearly midnight,andDoug couldn’t remember the last time he’d feltthis energized. He didn’t give a shit he had to appear in the squad room for roll call in less than eight hours. All he wanted to do was keep riding with these men. They were all so in tune by the time the sun had gone down, it seemed unreal. Very much as Doug remembered things being with Joel back in the day.
Gassed up and parked, he stepped off the surprisingly comfortable bike and stretched.
“Still think she’s a monster?” Youngblood caught his ribs with a stiff elbow, laughing as he walked past Doug.
“Fuck no, man.She’sthe most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Passing through the opened door, Doug spoke from his heart. “Didn’t even know how much I needed this, man.” He glanced sideways at his companion, seeing a smug grin on his lips. “Thank you.”
“Jesus wept, Lawman. You gotall earnest and shit. Now I know you’re a keeper, you spout shit like that.” Youngblood shouted across the small diner, “Winger, brother, you called it.”
“How far we come, Road Captain?” Winger’s shout was just as loud. “You got the papers?”
A member Doug hadn’t yet met strolled up, putting his elbow on Winger’s shoulder as he dugintoan inside pocket of his vest. “Three hundred, give or take.You need exact?” Winger nodded. With a sigh, the man, whose nameplate read Bingo, read from the paper, “311 miles. You’re closest, Winger, with 325. Youngblood was short by more than twenty-three, and everybody else bet a lot higher numbers.” He dug around in his pocket again, dragging out a wad of bills. “Any argument?” He clearly didn’t expect anything,andthere wasn’t even a peep from allthe men. “Winger’s the goddamned winner. I claimfoulbecause you already knew him before Mason tagged him. Cheating asshole.”
Fingers back to the pocket, Bingo pulled out a twice-folded envelope and tossed it at Doug. As he had with the keys, he caught it easily. The deed for the bike was inside, along with a bill of sale listing him as the buyer for twenty bucks. Doug’s throat clamped tightaround any words he might have said.
Winger peeled a bill off the money he held and stuffed it into Doug’s fist. “There, don’t say I never gave ya anything. You earned it.”
Finally finding his voice, Doug stared at Winger as he asked, “Winger, what’s going on?”
“Got you a bike.” Wingershruggedas if this was the smallest of gestures. “Boys all chipped in, but Youngblood did all the work. Saidhe fuckin’ enjoyed a challenge.”
“You…” He swung in a short half circle, meeting every man’s gaze. “You’re giving me a bike?”
Nods and grins met his disbelief, forcing it back. Bingo reached out and slapped Doug’s back, right between his shoulder blades. Exactly where a patch would ride if he were a member. “It’s a start.”
“You’re giving me a bike?” Doug had to voice the question again.
“Can’tbean MCclub member without one, can you?” That was Youngblood again. “Kinda begs the question otherwise.”
“I’m not a member,” he reminded them and was shocked at the easy laughter that filled the air.
Winger pushed past him, sliding into a booth, reaching to grab the menu from beside the napkin holder. “Yet.” He looked up and caught Doug’s gaze, then winked. Raising his voice, he called toa waitress loitering in the open swinging door between the dining room and the kitchen, “Karen, darlin’, I’m hungry. What’s the late night special?”
By the time they got back to Fort Wayne, Doug’s head was heavy on his neck, his arms and shoulders tight and aching from the unfamiliar position, but his soul felt more at ease than it had in years. No bones about it, the ride with good men tonighthad been something he’d needed, and it startled him to realize he felt so much more comfortable surrounded by the men of the RWMC than he did among the officers and detectives he served alongside.
All I’ve ever wanted was to be a cop. Do some good in the world,hethought asheleaned the bike into a gentle curve, maintaininghispositiononthe road andin relation tothe bikes in front andbehindhim.I’m not certain I can reconcile the two different lives in a way that lets me have what I want from both.
Intersection by intersection, men and bikes peeled away from the main column, turning down side streets as they headed home to family. Overdinner,he’d heard several of the men discussing a job they were working on the next day, and he realized they had settled into lives thatallowed them tobearound other members.Even more support for them that way, he mused.
Talking to Winger and Bingo, he’d learned for some of the men, the life of a club member was an extension of how they’d always lived, or how they’d been raised.Hardscrabbleand tough, theycarried themselves in an unmistakable way, spines rigid and heads on a swivel, continually ready for whatever trialslife threw at them. Several of the men had become members after a come-to-Jesus moment in their path through life, something so profound it could uproot and disrupt whatever they’d been working towards before. It reminded him of Claudia, how she’d abandoned everything she worked for because it was the right thing to do.
Shaking his head as he lifted a hand in farewell, he turned away from thegroup and down the road thatledto his little house. Doug wondered if there was a correlation to be drawn.
