4
We are gonna come out the other side of this, just fine, shit always works out, sorta...
Everyone wins, even if they lose. That's just the way it is now a days. We as a club always had to make a show of everything, nothing could ever be subtle, or on the down low.
Oh no, when we went out of town, it had to always be a show, always a production. How could it be anything less, all the bikes roaring through town, all the heads on the street, turning to see where SAMCO was headed off to now.
You'd think getting thirty plus some bikes organized would be a nightmare, but it never was.
Each rider knows their place, never have to guess who's gonna be around you, it's life in the pac. Two up or solitary rider, always good to see the brothers and their ole lady's next to you, knowing they had your back no matter what the situation may turn into, just like you got theirs. You never had to wonder if the rider next to you knew what they were doing. We were more like a flock of crows, in tune and in time with each other, turning in unison.
Be it bullets, or brother down due to a shit road or just a broke down bike. The broke down bikes are the one reason that the club bought a tow truck in the first place. That led to needing a secure place to work on the bikes, which in turn grew into the garage known as TM.
Shortly after Hap brought me to the clubhouse and the queen found out I had a degree in accounting, she gave me a job, well ordered me to come cook the books, was actually more like it. I never worked anywhere else in all those years, never wanted to. Working with him right there just across the lot was the best of both worlds as far as I was concerned, it took some of the guys a bit longer to come around and be ok with the fact I was his ole lady and the fact that, yes I did actually have a working brain.
I guess it was the fact I did not look like what they thought he would end up with, didn't look like a hooker, wasn't tall and blond, had a mouth on me, and an attitude to match. Wasn't a size nothing in plastic heels.
I was a gal with curves, red long ass hair, biker boots and the attitude that went with the boots. No one made the mistake of thinking I was just another cheap ass bitch lookin for a hook up with a son, more than once. I stood up for my place in this life, like we all had to, everytime some bitch got it in her little fucked up brain that they had a chance at more than just a blow job out in the main bar room. Which I did very much mind, and voiced my feelings on more than once, but I knew that boys will be boys and they always want to play with things that are just not good for them. So we had our personal rules and Hap was pretty good about it.
Sure, we had our disagreements standing toe to toe in that lot, with all the guys looking on. But that never stopped us from the yelling match or the make up kiss either. Those kisses, well, I just have no words for them, still bring a smile to my face and make me miss him all the more to this very day!
Sometimes when I'm rollin down the highway, I can hear the echoes of past runs. Runs that went on for days. The canyons are the best, the roar of my bike is amplified and great echoes, so it sounds like I'm not really alone.
Oh sure, three days old clothes still suck, skin gritty with the road. Bed rolls that are either full of dirt or soggy from the rain.
Bugs, now lets just not go there, just leave that as yuck!
But we all had the same amount of road on us, each one of us could have been in a foul mood due to it, but we all just had the same silly grin and not one of us would trade this life for a desk and some lame ass nine to five fucking cubical job ever! Crawling out of a tiny tent or just the tarp tied to the bike, smelling the first pot of coffee on the fire, hearing someone bitching because the beer is all gone, or their smokes are wet from the rain, those were the good days. Reminds me of the music we all listened to back then, hell I still do!
Tig had set for the longest time, him being still and quiet was usually a sign of some fuckery cooking up in that swirling black hole he had for a brain. But time had mellowed him somewhat, and that was what had me concerned today. I had no idea of what he had been through since he'd been out, but I got the feeling he'd been through his own personal hell just like I had.
He turned to me like he was going to say something and would just stop, and look again off in the distance.
I get that, I do it a lot myself these days.
" What the fuck, Leann, just what the hell happened, did we have a rat, did one of us turn. Just what the fuck?" He said very loudly, way too close to my ear.
"Fuck did you have to yell in my ear asshole?" I said as I scooted a bit further away from him, in hopes of saving what hearing I had left.
"Shit doll, I'm fuckin sorry, I just ain't had no one to ask ya know, and now you're here, really here like alive n shit." He said as he refilled the glasses once again.
I eyeballed the bottle and with a sigh came to realize the day was gonna be shot so I might as well enjoy a nice safe drunk with one of the few friends I still had from this life of ours, that wasn't just a head stone I was leaning against in some grave yard, talking to.
I turned to Tig and said the one world we all feared, "RICCO".
The one thing that I believe each of us knew, deep down in the end would get the club.
He stood up and said, " I don't wanna know about that shit, it was crazy enough to go through that fucked up mess with that fuckin blond bitch," He turned after a bit and just looked at me. "Shit, they got us, like for real got us?" He asked.
"One way or another, ya they did get to us all." I replied. And it was the way of it, one by one the guys went down, and went down hard. Everyone of them that could, fought to the bitter end.
Stahl, the blond bitch that started it all. We could never figure out just why she went after us so hard. The reason came later, like after Opie painted a windshield with her brains.
Apparently her Dad was a club member that went down early during the bloody years, the nineties, when we lost so many members to stupid, petty fighting over turf. She never forgave the SONS, always kept an eye on all of us, just looking for that one weak brother or his ole lady.
She tried with the queen, that didn't work out so well for her.
She tried with me, I just went straight to Hap and he took it to the table.
She tried with Jax, and he turned the tables on her. Leading her on, getting her to believe that the prince had turned rat. Only the few that were in on the plan and ended up in jail with him knew the truth at the time.
It had to be a show, a production, just like always.
The letters he sent to the queen, me and to Tarra, eventually came to light and not only cleared his name of the brand of rat, but brought to light the brilliance of the plan he formulated to bring her ass down and give some peace to two of his closest friends, brothers and advisors.
We all thought that was the end of that particular mess, but we were wrong. Our club was watched more closely than ever before, we just didn't see it at the time. All of us at one time or another had been put through their brand of interrogation. Some of us handled it better than others.
Lowell Jr, that was the hole we never saw. He was always around, always watching. Waiting to get back at the club when he learned how his father was killed. Hell Clay, he even put him through reaper rehab, he should have just blown a hole in his skull when he had the chance.
It just goes to show you that the one time you show weakness, show compassion for even someone as close to the club as he was, it will always come back to bite you in the ass!
Shoulda, woulda, coulda, words that will always be in my head. Now days I never accept or allow anyone I don't personally know to be too close to me. To know my habits. I just can't take the chance. I may look way different now, but hard to change the ink or my face ya know.
I was brought back out of that particular dark hole by Tig tugging on my hair. "Why would you change the color, I almost didn't know who you were.
It's them fuckin tiny alien feet, you can't change that shit doll." He said cackling,and once again he was too fuckin close. Tig always had boundary issues. He had none, so no one else should either.
I looked up at him and said, " fuckin back off on the hair asshole!, I thought at one time I might have to shave my head again, you crazy fucker!"
"Ha! But you didn't, ya couldn't do it again could ya! Bet you can still hear Hap's fuckin fit over that!" He said with a twisted grin.
That's when I got it, Tig's medical problems had kept him safe. He'd had a stroke, now that I'm looking at him, I mean really looking at him I can see the damage.
"When did you have your stroke," I asked.
He just looked at me with sad eyes and hung his head. " Right after I got out, just a couple days actually, I just couldn't come to terms with everyone gone and me still here." His shoulders slumped, there was a hitch in his breath, he was tired of keeping up the ruse, the lie that he was fine.
"I just hit the ground one day and couldn't do shit about it helps ya know. Thought I was gonna die, n wishin I was already dead, then I wouldn't be alone."
We all had similar reactions to the news. The few of us that were still alive, were in hiding already, personal lock-down is what I called mine. Hole up, ride this shit storm out and regroup.
No one was just fine anymore. We the surviving few were anything but fine. I remembered some of the thoughts that were once shared with me from someone I really thought had finaly got his shit together, Jax.
[ Something happens at around 92 miles an hour - thunder-headers drown out all sound, engine vibrations travels at a heart's rate, field of vision funnels into the immediate and suddenly you're not on the road, you're in it. A part of it. Traffic, scenery, cops - just cardboard cutouts blowing over as you past. Sometimes I forget the rush of that. That's why I love these long runs.
All your problems, all the noise, gone. Nothing else to worry about except what's right in front of you. Maybe that's the lesson for me today, to hold on to these simple moments. Appreciate them a little more - there's not many of them left. I don't ever want that for you. Finding things that make you happy shouldn't be so hard.
I know you'll face pain, suffering, hard choices, but you can't let the weight of it choke the joy out of your life. No matter what, you have to find the things that love you. Run to them.
There's an old saying, 'That what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger' I don't believe that. I think the things that try to kill you make you angry and sad.
Strength comes from the good things - your family, your friends, the satisfaction of hard work. Those are the things that'll keep you whole. Those are the things to hold on to when you're broken. JAX ]
I think about the things he said at the time and they worked then, but not now. Now we fly under the radar, stay off the main highways. Try not to be noticed. But then we were all flying high and didn't give a fuck about what anyone thought of us, or how we lived. Now, we few that are left, we just keep our heads down, never come down the same road twice in a row, all the little things we learned back in the day about security.
Sometimes the guys would come and talk to me, back in those days, really more like spill their guts. I guess I was the natural choice. The queen would have had to pass on what she learned, me I never needed to. They figured if I could keep Hap's secrets, then I've got to have some big invisible shoulders somewhere for them to lay their shit on and allow them to move on and get shit done. Everyone needs someone to talk to. In this life we don't have priests or a biker psychiatrist to go tell our troubles to. We talk to the one we trust the most. Throughout the years I heard far more of club business than I should have. I kept the secrets, I kept their trust in me, as I trusted them, all but one.
Vulnerability is a liability, and no place for it in this life. We could never be seen as weak in any way what so ever. The ole ladys would help each other through the rough patches, work our asses off and help out to keep all of our collective shit together during the many lock downs we went through.
But after three days anything gets old. Tempers get short, inaction weighs heavy on everyone, even the club kids. At the end of the last lock down, it was far different, more were gone than were standing. Then it came time to bury our dead, regroup and get a plan together all pulled together we had to make shit work. We had too, there just wasn't that many of us left even then.
What went down I those last days was us burying the last piece of a very broken past, to some it was with joy in their hearts, to others like me, who had a bigger view of the situation it was the beginning of the heartbreaking end, our bloody end.
This isn't 1967 anymore, this is now sweetheart. This life, it ain't romantic or free. There's no path to anything that makes any sense. It's just dirty and sad and we both know it's only going to get worse. I could still hear Hap whisper in my ear, standing behind me. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, keeping me safe.
Sometimes I would think to myself, I'm just a dirty biker whore with a mile long record. Does it really matter what I have to say? Is there anyone that would take to heart what I see coming, what any fool here should see? Only one man ever took what I said and built on it, made my thoughts and words, his to pass on in church, but by then it was far too late. Our fates were sealed. Lowell Jr, just knew too much, and he was a junkie, once a junkie, always a junkie. And all junkies can be bought. As far I am concerned when he sold us out, he sold his soul to the fuckin devil.
Many have called this life the devils ride with payment in blood at the end, I now think they were right, but back then I figured just like everyone else did, I'll face that when I come to the time to. Well, I'm still on this side of that line for now.
I sat out there with Tiggy all day. We cracked another bottle in there somewhere, I'm not sure who ordered the pizza, but it was like old times for just a bit. And I think that's what we both desperately needed, for just a bit.
I woke up on the deck, I mean face down on the deck. I sat up and saw Tig snoring away in the grass. He was good, and I just laid back down, the world was a bit too bright, a bit too loud.
I remembered being handcuffed beside the queen once, we were just laying on the floor and at the time all I could think of was, would you just look at how dirty this floor is, them bitches are gonna get a talking to from me! Not doin shit around here, what do they think this is a free fuckin ride! I looked over at the queen and she has an eyebrow cocked, and I just knew she was thinking the same thing!
Funny how the bits of the past connect to the now of today, if it is even today, yet, hell it could be days ahead for all I know right fuckin now!
I miss him, I miss all the guys. I miss all the little shit they used to do that made me nuts at the time, but those are the things that endear a person to you. All those annoying little things. Jax's cocky walk, Clays above it all attitude, the queens bitch heels clicking down the hall at all hours. Pineys Tequila and the constant smell of really good weed, Bobby and his organic shit. Chibs and his constant flirting, but I'd still gladly get a hug from any of them right fucking now.
But most of all I miss my man. The only man I have ever had in my heart and soul. I'm missing a huge part of me now. Most days I just kinda wander through, getting done what I have to, but not much more. I can't, I just don't have the will to anymore. I'm so tired of being here on this earth without him. I can hear him in my head, yelling at me, calling me out, telling me this is what he spent all that time teachin me. Survive Leann, don't let the dirty bastards win, the fuckin dirt under your nails is better than those assholes!
But lover, I'm tired, tired of runnin n hiding who I am. A new name, a new place, surrounded by strangers. Never to feel your arms around me, never to hear you yell at me from the garage to bring you a beer and my reply of go fuck yourself and get your own. It was just the way we were, always at odds to anyone that didn't know us, that wasn't family.
Well, now going down the deep dark road leads me to nowhere but curled up somewhere dark, holding myself cause that's all there is these days.
Nope, got to keep on, keeping on.
Time to go harass the mighty Tigger. So I sat up and threw the empty bottle at his head, the resulting yell was extremely satisfying!
"Who the fuck!" He yelled as he sat up and glared in my direction, then he grinned and said, " You got any more of this shit Leann?"
And so we past the next couple of days, just going over the old days. Reliving the past is supposed to be good for the soul, but as much under the influence as we were it may have done far more harm than good.
We both needed this, I know I did.
I told Hap one time, I'm not going to turn into the bloody bitch queen, I'm afraid was gonna turn into you. Hap, the thought scares me, though not as much as it should. But in the end, that's exactly who I turned into, it kept me safe and somewhat sane, if you can call going on a three day drunk with Tig sane.