Skid
It wasn’t easy to leave the clubhouse. It had been his home for so long. Skid had wanted desperately to make things work, but it was too late. He had betrayed Park’s trust. There was no choice but for him to go.
His biggest regret was not getting the chance to say goodbye to Mina. He could have reassured her that he would come back for her, that they would still find a way to be together. Skid wasn’t sure how he would make it happen, but he would. He had promised her. Just because he’d let Park down didn’t mean he would do the same to Mina.
With his face cleaned up and only a few cuts and bruises showing, Skid got on his bike and pushed the machine to its maximum acceleration. He had to get as much distance between himself and Satan’s Legion as possible, before Park changed his mind about letting him leave peacefully.
For a little while, he drove without direction. There was no place that he felt he belonged, and no place he truly wanted to be except with Mina. When he found himself driving along Lake Michigan, on the same beach where he and Mina had gone to talk all those months ago, he turned around and drove with purpose. It was too much to think about her, and there was at least one place where he knew he would be welcome.
“Skid! It’s the middle of the day! And I just saw you last night.” Stomper was already at The Billy Goat, and he’d gotten an early start on his drinking. Several of his club members were with him, but their numbers were significantly lower than they were at night. “You don’t look so good.”
“I shouldn’t.” Skid threw himself down in the chair next to Stomper. A different waitress than the one he had seen the night before came over immediately. She wore a tight T-shirt with the bar’s name on it that hugged her breasts tightly and showed off her midriff. She had cut off her jeans so short that they barely covered her ass. It was no doubt an outfit that earned her plenty of tips, but Skid didn’t care about it at all right now. “Just bring me a glass of water, please.”
“Oh ho! Now I really know something’s wrong,” Stomper remarked. “Tell me all about it.”
Skid, now that he was here, wasn’t even sure he wanted to say anything. “Why do you keep hanging out at this sleazy place?” he asked instead. “Aren’t they sick of you?”
“They were at first,” the blond man admitted. “But we order a lot of drinks and we always pay our tabs. Now quit changing the subject and tell me what’s going on. You didn’t get your face all fucked up for nothing, I’m sure. Was it a girl?”
He pressed his lips together, but the gesture hurt. “I never thought I would say this, but yeah. It was.”
“Was she worth it?”
“More than anyone I’ve ever known. Unfortunately, she also happens to be Park’s daughter.”
Stomper burst out in his characteristic laughter, a sound that made him seem crazy more than in good spirits. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. But I know you, Skid. That’s just not the kind of thing I would have expected of you. This girl must be one hell of a lay.”
Skid curled his fist to keep himself from grabbing Stomper by the shirt and dragging him out of his chair. The leader of the Sons was trying to help, in his own way, and he had no idea what sort of relationship Skid had with Mina. Skid had purposely kept their conversations turned away from his current life. “It’s a lot more than that, man. She’s having my baby.”
Stomper heard the gravity in Skid’s voice, and he didn’t laugh this time. “So it’s serious, huh?”
“Very.”
“What are you going to do?” Stomper waved at the waitress for another beer, but he didn’t even look at her this time.
“That’s exactly why I’m here. I don’t know. I let Park beat the shit out of me. I couldn’t fight back; it just didn’t seem right. He told me to leave, and I did. There was no choice. But I’ve got to find a way to go back and get her. I can’t just leave her there.” There was so much more Skid could say, but he knew Stomper wouldn’t want to hear about his feelings or how he was desperate to keep his new little family together.
Still, Stomper seemed to understand. He whacked Skid on the back of the shoulder as he picked up his fresh beer with his other hand. “We’ll find a way. You just stick with me, Skid, and I’ll make it happen.”
Skid turned to look at his old friend, unsure of exactly what was being offered. He wasn’t ready to make a commitment to the Sons of Chaos, not on the heels of leaving the Legion. “I don’t know.”
“It’s no pressure. Just stay with us for a little while, and leave it all up to me. I’ll work it out. You know better than anybody that I always find a way to get things done. I’ll get you a room at the same motel where we’ve been staying. It’ll be fine.” Stomper smiled.
“All right.”
* * *
The motel was a cheap one, and it provided little more than a roof over Skid’s head. The blankets were scratchy, the carpet smelled of mildew, and the window didn’t open. The members of the Sons of Chaos that flanked his room on either side kept late hours or sometimes didn’t go to bed at all, making it impossible for Skid to sleep. At one time in his life not so long ago, he would have gladly joined them. Now, he just wanted it to be quiet enough so he could think.
Every scenario he came up with was a failure. Skid knew he couldn’t just ride back to the clubhouse and demand that Mina be handed over to him. Park would refuse, and he would send his men after Skid. Sneaking in wasn’t really an option. He and Mina had spent plenty of time making their way stealthily in and out of the building and each other’s rooms, but he didn’t doubt that Park had reinforced every doorway and put extra guards out. The fact that Skid had been forced to leave in addition to the close proximity of the Sons would make him feel the need for extra protection, and rightfully so.
That only left him with Stomper. The leader had promised he would find a way for Skid and Mina to be together. Skid sat up on the edge of his sagging mattress and pulled on his boots, tired of waiting. He made his way down the covered walkway of the motel and knocked on Stomper’s door.
“Come in!” a cheerful voice shouted.
Stomper wasn’t alone in his room. Several club girls lounged around on the ancient furniture, and the group of men Skid had come to recognize as Stomper’s closest associates were present as well. They watched Skid carefully.
“I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
“Go right ahead. I have a little time, but I plan on going for a ride this afternoon. We’ve been in one spot for far too long.” The other men cheered their agreeance.
“Could we speak in private?” Skid didn’t feel this was a matter up for public discussion. Even Stomper barely understood just how vital it was, and there was no need for input from anybody else.
“Say what you want, Skid. We’re all friends here.” He smiled as he gestured around him as though they were in the throne room of a castle.
Skid cleared his throat. “I just wanted to check with you on the matter we discussed the other day.”
“Hmm?” Stomper was distracted as a club girl came around behind him to rub his shoulders. “Oh, that. Yeah. I’m working on it, like I said.”
“I’m just concerned,” Skid tried to explain without giving too much away. “I think time is of the essence here.”
“But perhaps it’s better to bide our time,” Stomper argued. “After all, Park probably expects you to come storming back. Give him time to calm down. Speaking of time,” he rose from his seat and came to stand in front of Skid, “don’t you think it’s about time you officially joined the Sons? It would make it much easier to help you.”
“Not yet,” Skid replied instantly, but he knew that he might never be ready. He could already see that Stomper wasn’t the same kind of leader Park was. He didn’t care about his men as long as they didn’t cross him. The lower members fought amongst themselves unchecked. Stomper himself was lazy, accomplishing little more in a day’s time than getting drunk and deciding which girl he was going to sleep with that night.
“I don’t know that we should let him in.” This came from a man Skid had come to know as Scar. His name was appropriate, as a vicious gash had once cut him from his jawline, up his cheeks, and even into his hairline. He kept his head shaved to show the full extent of his former injury. He was the current vice president of the Sons. “We don’t really know him.”
It was reasonable advice, Skid thought, and the same thing he might have said to Park in such a situation. But Stomper wasn’t having any of it. “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask you for it,” he snapped over his shoulder. “Besides, I’ve known Skid a very long time. He’s like my brother, and if I say I want him to be in the club, then that’s how it is.”
Scar glared at the back of his leader’s head as Stomper turned back to Skid.
“You just be patient. We’ll get your girl, and I’ll make sure nothing happens to her. You can trust me, Skid.”
Nodding but not reassured, Skid turned to go back to his room.
“You know,” Stomper said from behind him, “you don’t have to wait. You can have your pick of any of the club girls. I’m sure most of them would be happy for a little fresh meat.” He laughed as the girls in the room giggled. Their eyes traced Skid’s muscles appreciatively.
“No, thanks.” He went back to his room, his feet and his heart heavy.
* * *
That night, the Sons of Chaos gathered once again at The Billy Goat. Skid was tired of the watered-down beer and the pushy waitresses. Most of all, he was getting tired of Stomper’s company. He’d tried to spend a little time with his potential new leader, assessing him as a president and deciding if he was worth following. No matter how hard he tried, he could only see a man who was struggling to cope with his own past, just as Skid was. Every day since he’d left Satan’s Legion, he had been kicking himself for not doing what he should have and getting himself into this situation.
Things were relatively quiet at the bar. The members of the club who had been fighting had finally been sent back to the motel, where they were no doubt continuing their fights. Stomper had cleared his head of the afternoon’s alcohol with his ride, and he was starting it up once again.
As much as Skid wanted to pressure him again about Mina, he left the matter alone. It was clear that the man wasn’t as interested as he claimed to be in helping Skid; he just wanted to feel that he had some leverage over him. It irritated Skid and made him feel like a fool, but he sat down at his usual place nevertheless. There weren’t many other options available to him.
Stomper immediately started up yet another conversation about the old days. Skid was his sounding board for his army memories, and he had a plethora of them. “Do you remember that asshole Kirkwood?”
Skid would have been happy to say no, but that wasn’t the truth. “I do, unfortunately.”
“He thought he was so fucking special.” Stomper shook his head as he tore a paper napkin into tiny pieces that fell like snow onto the table. “He thought just because his dad had been in the army and he came from a rich family that he ought to be put on all the good, clean jobs.”
“No such thing as a clean job in the army,” Skid remarked. He had been a forward observer. His job had been to go ahead of the other troops and call back to tell them where the targets were. It meant that he wasn’t on kitchen duty and he didn’t have to deal with sanitation issues, but it still wasn’t easy. His calls to the artillery had killed plenty of people, and sometimes he still saw them at night. Skid usually hadn’t been close enough to see their faces in real life, but his mind had created faces for them. They haunted him regularly.
“No, but he was determined to find one. I never met a soldier who complained so much. Fuck. What did he expect? He was just going to drive around and wave at the citizens we were supposed to be saving? He should have known better, especially if his dad really was in the service.”
“I’m sure he only heard the good stories, saw his dad at the end of his career when he worked in an office in the states and didn’t have to do anything harder than decide how to schedule his men for the week. It’s the sort of thing that makes young dumb idiots like ourselves sign up.” At one time, Skid had hated Kirkwood just as much as Stomper still did. But he was beginning to understand that everyone made mistakes, and sometimes they had to pay dearly for them.
It had been late at night and shockingly cold when Skid had left his tent in search of the latrine. He’d nearly tripped over Kirkwood in the darkness. “What are you doing here?”
“Nothing.”
But he hadn’t missed the way the man’s voice caught in his throat. He was crying. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Just go away.”
Instead, Skid had sat down next to him and lit a cigarette. He handed one to Kirkwood. “Not now. You got me curious.”
Kirkwood accepted it, his face bitter in the dull light from the ember. “I hate it here, okay? My dad made the army out to be some great, glorious thing, but it’s horrible. The food sucks, I haven’t shit in a week, and I just want to go home. The worst thing is, I can’t say any of this to my parents. My dad will just tell me I’m being a pussy. And maybe I am, but I’m not sure I fucking care. I never should have joined, and now I’m stuck.”
Skid had nodded and looked up into the vast sky. He knew the stars were the same ones he had always seen at home, but they looked different here. “I get it. I don’t think it’s anything like we expected it to be. They don’t tell you what it’s really like until it’s too late.”
“Why do you join?”
“Nothing better to do,” Skid had replied with a shrug. There had been no other future for him. He hadn’t known what he’d wanted to do after high school, and he couldn’t afford to go to college. “I guess it seemed better than ending up in jail.”
“Maybe,” Kirkwood had agreed, “but I’m going to find some way to get out of here. I don’t know how yet, but I will.”
The next week, Kirkwood had stepped on a mine that had been missed by the clearing crews. It had blown his leg completely off and damaged other parts of his body in the process. He’d been patched up and sent home permanently. Skid often imagined that he had been lauded as a hero, even though his injuries had been nothing more than an accident.
“You still with me?”
Stomper’s voice brought Skid back to the present. That was happening more and more. He would get lost in a memory and just disappear from real life for a little while. When he returned, he felt dizzy and a little weak, like the flashbacks had sapped all his energy. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Men like you and me, we need a place to belong.” Stomper leaned close so that the others couldn’t hear what he was about to say. “To be honest, I’m thinking about ditching the Sons.”
“What? But they’re loyal to you. Hell, you started the club.” Skid couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had to wonder if it was just another one of Stomper’s crazy ideas, one that he would abandon within the hour like so many of the others.
“Yeah, but I didn’t really know what I was doing then. I’ve got better ideas now, and I think they could be really great.”
Skid had his doubts, but he was stuck with Stomper for the moment. “I’m listening.”
Stomper’s green eyes glittered. “Okay, here it is. You and I both know there are a ton of veterans out there who need something to belong to. They’re trying to find satisfaction in their jobs or their families, but it just isn’t happening. They need something more, and a motorcycle club is perfect for them. I’m thinking about starting a whole new club. Maybe name it something like True Glory or Patriots United. Some corny name like that will really rake them in. But we would be a club of nothing but veterans.”
Skid had to tread carefully here. He knew that Stomper’s idea would never work, mostly because Stomper didn’t have the ability to pull it off. If he was a good leader and really cared about his men, then it would be perfect. It would create a motorcycle club that was known all over the nation, and they would have people knocking down the door to join. But Stomper would treat them all like shit, just as he did with his current club members, and they wouldn’t be happy. Besides, Stomper’s new club would immediately have rivals, since the Sons of Chaos would be after his ass. “It’s not a bad idea, but it might be a little hard to execute.”
“How could it possibly be? Haven’t you seen how everything these days that has to do with veterans is like the golden touch? They have companies that are strictly run by vets, and everyone throws their money at them. It’ll be the same. You can be my vice president, and we’ll charge a hefty membership fee. Even if guys only ride with us for part of the year or whatever, we’ll be making money hand over fist.” Stomper was so elated that he sank down the rest of his beer in one gulp.
“But it’s not really about making money,” Skid countered. “It’s about so much more than that. And you can’t rely on your own men as your sole source of income.” Park understood that, and it hurt Skid for his former president to constantly pop into his mind like that. It let him know just how much of a fool he had been. “How are you going to keep them together? What motivation do they have for joining in the first place, other than just being veterans? It’s nice, but I don’t think it’s enough. And how will you keep control of them?”
“You think too much, Skid. Just forget it.” Stomper sat back in his chair, disappointed and angry.
The front door of The Billy Goat slammed open. The figure lined in the doorway was one that Skid recognized instantly, and it sent a jolt of nerves through his stomach. Animal strutted into the bar like he owned the place. His eyes landed on Skid and he smirked.
Skid couldn’t believe that someone had been sent all the way here just for him. Park was no doubt trying to make sure everyone in the Satan’s Legion forgot about him, especially Mina. So why would he go to the trouble of sending Animal?
But the big man brushed right past him and put a finger in Stomper’s face. The other Sons were instantly on their feet with their fists curled, ready for a fight. “I’ve come with a message for you.”
“Oh?” Stomper rose more slowly to his feet, ready to put on a show for his men instead of worried about what Animal might do to him. “And just what is that?”
“Park from Satan’s Legion sent me.” Animal glanced at Skid once again, but said nothing. “You’re to get out of his territory within twenty-four hours or there will be hell to pay.”
Stomper stared at the man for a long moment before bursting into laughter. His men joined him, and the room was full of their deafening howls. “Did you hear that, boys? Parker wants us out of here, but he’s such a pussy he won’t even come down here and tell me himself.”
“He’s got more important things to do than waste his time smelling your foul breath,” Animal countered.
As much as Skid despised Animal, he had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at that one.
“I’m sure he does, like finding a new VP!” Stomper induced his men to laugh once again. “Satan’s Legion is weak. You have no idea just what we could do to you if we wanted to. And you see, men,” he turned his back on Animal to address his members, “that’s exactly why you’re in this club. You don’t need a leader who sends others to do the dirty work for him. You don’t need someone who’s so worried about losing his territory that he can’t even let another gang stay in the area.”
Cheers and growls sounded from the crowd.
“Fuck you, Stomper. You have no idea who you’re screwing with.”
“Oh, but I do,” Stomper promised. “You see, I know everything I need to know about Satan’s Legion. I’ve got one of your own on my side now, don’t I?” He grinned at Skid. “How long will it be before other members start abandoning your club as well? You can’t fight over turf if you can’t keep your membership.”
Skid was disgusted at what a hypocrite Stomper was. Only a moment ago, he had been ready to abandon his men and find new ones. He had to wonder if something similar had happened with Stomper’s previous gang, and if he had left on his own terms or if he had been thrown out. Still, he watched quietly. This wasn’t his war.
“You don’t know shit,” Animal challenged. “You’re half the man Park is, and unless you and your men want your asses kicked then I suggest you get the fuck out of Chicago.” Skid knew why Park had sent Animal. It hadn’t been because he was confident in him or because he was considering him for his new vice president. It was because he was intimidating and more than a little on the crazy side.
“Gentleman, I hope you’re paying attention.” Stomper’s chest was puffed out, and he had drawn himself to his full height. With his close-cropped hair and his muscly build, he was an intimidating man himself. “You’re going to see what happens to someone who defies me, someone who thinks they can command me. Because it doesn’t work like that, boys. I’m the president of the Sons of Chaos, damn it, and we have that name for a reason!” His men rallied behind him, screaming and raising their fists in the air.
“You’re all words, Stomper.” Animal was at least a head shorter than Stomper, but he had spent more time in the gym. He flexed his chest and arms, ready for a fight even if he was the only one fighting on his side. “Why don’t you step over here and prove what a man you are?”
“Consider it done.” In one swift movement, Stomper pulled a pistol from the back of his pants and fired. The bar staff screamed and ducked for cover. In the moment of silence that followed the blast, Skid could hear someone in the back calling for the police. The Sons of Chaos looked at each other in confusion, and then began to roar their approval for their leader once again.
The bullet had buried itself in Animal’s ample chest. The big man stood stock still for a moment, his face an expression of shock and horror. He fell to his knees, and then to the floor. Blood seeped out into the sawdust and turned it a dark brown.
Skid remained in his place, watching the whole thing with a placid interest. Animal was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t have prevented it, and it was just as well. The man had been going to get himself killed one way or another, and at least it hadn’t been at Skid’s own hands. He watched as Stomper put the gun away, knowing he had to bide his time for a little longer. If Stomper had been so eager to shoot Animal, he was likely to do the same to him.
* * *
“I’ve been thinking.” They were back at the motel room. Somehow, Stomper had used a police connection to keep his ass out of hot water, and none of the witnesses at the bar had been willing to say exactly what had happened. Skid had come to Stomper’s room, eager to show the man he was on his side.
“Yeah? What about?”
“This whole thing between the Sons and the Legion.” Skid pulled a beer from a nearby bucket of ice and cracked the top. He didn’t really need another drink, but it gave him something to do.
“I’m not worried about it. That idiot deserved to be shot.” Stomper pulled a cigarette from his vest pocket and lit it, watching the smoke rise to the ceiling and dissipate.
“Not going to argue with you there. He was an asshole, and he won’t be missed. But a fight with the Legion isn’t what you need right now. Your numbers aren’t as big as theirs, and they’ve been on guard for months. They’re ready for it. Let me help you.”
Stomper grinned. “Sounds like you’re finally starting to understand your place in the world. What are you proposing?”
“Let me arrange a meeting between you and Park. The two of you can hash all this out without any more killing.” He had been thinking about it ever since Animal had fallen to the floor of The Billy Goat. Something had to be done. Even if he couldn’t get Mina back, maybe he could at least save some of the other members of the Legion from falling at the hands of Stomper. And even though the Sons of Chaos weren’t really his crowed, he knew that some of them were good men. There was no point in fighting. There were bigger wars being waged elsewhere, ones that actually meant something.
“Always the diplomat,” Stomper remarked. “What do you think, Scar?”
Skid couldn’t remember Stomper actually deferring to his vice president before, and it surprised him. Maybe the man was starting to see the error of his ways after all.
“I don’t think we should trust him. Park sent that beast in here, and we have no way of knowing he didn’t send Skid, too. They could have been working together this whole time, and they just didn’t think you’d have the balls to kill them.” He glared at Skid, his scarred eye narrowing until it was nearly shut.
“You’re so full of shit. Why do I keep you on, anyway? Go on, and I’ll let you know when I need you.” Stomper waved him out of the room.
Scar left, but not without another glare in Skid’s direction.
Or maybe Stomper was still just as much of an ass as he always was. Scar was wrong about Skid, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t advice worth listening to.
“What do you say?” Skid asked, eager to get Stomper’s attention back on him before he thought too much. “It’s the least I can do for you, considering all you’ve done for me.”
“Now that’s the kind of man I need to have at my back!” Stomper whacked him on the arm and nodded. “It’s about time someone recognized all I do around here. Sure, Skid, I’ll meet with the guy. I’m not making any promises, and it’s possible he’ll want to start a war with me anyway since I killed his pet, but we might as well get it all out in the open. You just let me know when and where.”