Chapter 28
Ella
“I’ve only been here six months, and this is the third wake I’ve helped organise,” Sophie comments sadly. Sam’s just informed us Crystal’s going to be buried on Friday. “Is it always like this?”
Carmen pats her shoulder. “Naw, sweetie, before this it’s been a couple of years since anyone died. And that was old, um, who was it Sandy?”
“Digger.” Sandy helps her out. “And he was in his sixties, hadn’t ridden for years but was still called a member. Died of liver failure.”
“I didn’t think you could be a member if you couldn’t ride?”
“Never said he couldn’t, just that he hadn’t. Probably wasn’t likely toward the end, but no one put it to the test.” Sandy smiles as she indulges her step-daughter’s curiosity.
“Digger?” Sophie queries, always interested in how the men got their names.
As I’m wondering whether he’s was responsible for excavating graves, we’re given a far more banal explanation.
“Yeah, he kept digging himself into holes he couldn’t get out of.” Sandy, who’s been here the longest, is again the one to reply. “And he’d never admit he was wrong, just kept digging in deeper.”
Her moment of inquisitiveness over, Sophie’s face falls again. “It’s natural when someone dies of old age, but I never expected it to be one of us. Crystal, she had her whole life in front of her.”
I think we all understand how she feels, most of us have probably been thinking the same thing. I glance down at Amy playing under the table, placing her naked Barbie on the back of a bike. Biting back my comment her doll should have some clothes on, I notice she’s oblivious to the grownup conversation going on around her. It’s better for her to stay that way. Her innocence reminds me Crystal should be here, wearing her colourful leggings, laughing, chatting, playing with her daughter, and it’s all wrong that we’re sat here talking about making funeral arrangements on her behalf.
“I don’t like that we haven’t waited for Heart.” Carmen puts her hands on her hips. “It just isn’t right. If something, God forbid, happened to Bullet I’d want them to wait until I could say my goodbyes. How the fuck will anyone tell him when he wakes up that not only has he lost his wife, he can’t even see her in her coffin?”
“I’d feel the same about Viper.”
As I would Slick. My heart goes out to Heart. Sometimes I wonder whether it would be better for him to quietly slip away without having to know about Crystal. Maybe there is another side where she would be waiting for him. But then, as my eyes again find Amy, I realise her father needs to recover and come home for her sake if for nothing else.
After my ordeal at the Rock Demons’ club, the first time I was at the compound I’d tried to avoid entering the clubhouse as much as I could. The one place I had felt the slightest bit comfortable in was the kitchen, and the company of the old ladies. It was them I’d got to know fairly well, and have fond memories of Crystal. She was so bubbly and friendly, and so totally in love with her man. It still seems impossible that she’s gone. She’s left a huge gap behind. Even now her ghost seems to haunt us. I almost expect her to walk through the door saying it’s all been a bad joke.
“Okay,” Sam says, clapping her hands. “Are we going to get on with this or what? I know none of us like what we’re doing, but the only thing we can do now is to give Crystal the best possible send-off we can. Now, numbers. We got our members, and how many have stayed over from the other chapters?”
Sandy looks like she’s doing a quick sum in her head. “Thirty or so.”
“Right, so that makes it more than fifty we need to cater for.”
“Carmen’s mom’s arranging the funeral, is she doing anything else?” Sophie’s enquires.
Sam sneers. “According to Drum, she doesn’t want any of us biker lot there. If she’s having a wake we’ve certainly not been invited.”
“Oh come now, she must know we’ll want to pay our respects.”
Sam shrugs. “I don’t think she gives a damn about anyone’s feelings, Sophie. She didn’t seem to care that her daughter was dead. No, she wants Amy there, but no one else.”
“She’s not taking Amy,” Sandy growls.
We all agree. Amy’s relatively settled now, or as well as she can be. She’s loved by everyone here, and whatever happens to Heart, this is her home. To me, it seems a strange place to bring up a young child, but even I can see there’s not one of these rough bikers who’d do anything to hurt her.
“Come on, let’s get our heads together as to what we need and send the prospects out with a list.” Sam pulls a piece of paper toward her. Carmen rummages in a drawer and passes her a pen.
Preparing for the funeral is almost as bad as losing Crystal in the first place, opening wounds all over again. And while we, the old ladies are subdued, the men are sombre, and something tells me it’s not just that we’re preparing a final goodbye. There’s more going on, but as women we don’t get to know what. Although Slick’s said nothing, I’ve developed a sneaking suspicion they’re expecting trouble at the graveyard. Could it be they believe Crystal’s mom will try to take Amy by force? Well, with all of them there she won’t have a chance.
Slick’s cleaning his weapons, and I’ve caught Blade sharpening his knives and others checking ammunition. The clubroom’s been turned into a war room. There’s whispering in corners and conversations ending abruptly when any of us old ladies appear.
The night before the funeral Slick seems particularly tense.
I summon up the nerve to ask him. “Are you worried about tomorrow, Slick? Is there anything you can tell me?” I’ve just made sure Jayden’s asleep and have moved across into Slick’s room, as has become our custom.
By the way his back straightens, I know my direct question has surprised him. He fixes his gaze upon me and takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “What makes you ask, El?”
Shrugging, I reply, “It would take a deaf and blind man not to know there’s something going on around here. Tension’s been rising over the past couple of days.”
He tugs off his tee, and as usual, the sight of his bare chest and tattoos distract me. Turning my head slightly away, I try to keep my mind on track, but I don’t miss his smirk.
“El, darlin’, I’d tell you not to worry, but that ain’t gonna work, is it?” Closing the gap between us, his hands cup my cheek. He stares into my eyes. “Can’t share club business, babe, but I’ll tell you this, we’re goin’ off the compound, and when we do that, we’re always prepared.”
It’s more than that, I know it.
“Will Jayden be safe here, if we all go to the funeral?”
“The prospects are staying here, darlin’. The place will be locked up tight. She’ll be fine.”
He’s saying a lot without telling me anything. I’m right. They expect the funeral to be disrupted in some way.
Slick’s hands move down, and before I register his intentions my shirt’s on the ground and he’s undoing my jeans, his actions pushing all other thoughts out of my head. Once I’m naked he carries me to bed and proceeds to make love to me as he’s done every night. So gently and carefully, as though I could break. After an hour of Slick’s most personal attentions, I’m sated and exhausted and I fall asleep, held tight and close in his strong arms.
The journey to the graveyard takes us through Tucson, and although the reason for us travelling is sad, I smile to myself as I remember the times it was me on the sidelines watching bikers ride past. Now I’ve got a handsome biker all my own, and I’m the one hugging his waist. I can’t help but feel a moment of pride that I’m wearing my old man’s patch. Part of me wonders whether there’s some girl drinking coffee outside a café, feeling curious about these men riding past.
The Tucson chapter leading the way, bikes thunder behind us, Drum’s out in front, Wraith and Peg behind him, the other officers also up ahead. Slick and I are in the middle of the bunch riding behind. It’s the first time I’ve ridden in formation, and I’m awed at the way all the men handle their machines, turning and leaning as one, the gap between each Harley, the ones to the side and those in front, remaining consistent. Tightening my arms around my man I realise how comfortable I feel to be part of this group, my fear of bikers retreating into the distance.
We park up on the road outside the graveyard. Like the other old ladies, I dismount first, then the bikes are backed up and stands kicked down, leaving a neat line of fifty bikes, almost exact equal spacing between them. Slick takes my helmet and safety glasses, putting them into his paniers, then he comes and takes my hand.
It’s a quiet group that moves forward, a few muted conversations muttered in hushed tones. None of us forgetting the reason why we’re here today. As we approach a freshly dug hole in the ground I bite my lip to prevent myself from crying. It doesn’t seem right a woman who found such joy in life is going to have her final resting place there. The world’s too cruel to have taken her so young.
Drum and Wraith walk off together and return with tight faces. Drum points to half a dozen of the brothers who disappear for a while, only to return shouldering their burden, a coffin containing the body of a woman that I didn’t know very well, but enough to count her as a friend.
My eyes become wet, tears run down my cheeks. Swiping them away, I notice the people following behind the wooden box as it’s escorted to the grave. There’s the obligatory priest, and who I assume is Crystal’s mother, the latter making a token gesture, not wearing black exactly, but a dark coloured cardigan over a flowery dress which has seen better days. Her hair is tidy, pulled back into a bun, and her face looks clean. Two men follow her. I don’t know who they are, but the sharp intake of breath from Slick by my side suggests at least one of them is not a welcome addition.
The priest says some words, I don’t take much of it in, unable to pull my eyes away from the cheap coffin in front of me. Is she really inside? It seems so wrong that she is. Sneaking a peep at Sam, holding Amy in her arms, I notice she’s got the little girl’s face turned into her chest. Amy is quiet, picking up on our moods, and I hope she doesn’t understand what’s happening.
Then the coffin is lowered into the ground.
As I watch, Drum hands Crystal’s daughter a flower. Sam puts her down and tells Amy to throw it on the coffin. I don’t know how Sam’s done it, but whatever she’s whispering to her is right, as the child looks up, holding tight to Sam’s hand, and her little high-pitched voice can be heard clearly in the silence around.
“Mommy’s in heaven now.” Amy looks up at the prez’s ol’ lady as if for confirmation.
Sam gets to her knees, and with a serious look, agrees. “Yes, she is, sweetheart.”
Her flower thrown as instructed, as quick as she can Amy turns and launches herself back into Sam’s arms. Picking her up and turning Amy into her body, cradling her head with the back of her hand, Sam nods at Drum. “I’m going to get her out of here.”
I’d been so focused on the child and choked up with emotion, I hadn’t noticed the who I’d assumed to be Crystal’s step up, one unknown man in a suit by her side, the other, dressed scruffily, is holding back.
“You’re not taking her anywhere,” the older woman says with a sneer. “You need to give my granddaughter to me now.”
The prez places himself in front of Sam, Wraith comes to his side. “Told you before, woman, you’re not touchin’ one fuckin’ hair on her head. Her father left her in our care, and that’s where she’s gonna stay.”
“I’m afraid you’ve got no choice.”
Drum’s whole body stiffens as he addresses the suited man. “The fuck you mean? The child stays with us. I can’t understand why you’re getting involved, Detective Archer. This isn’t a police matter.”
“I warn you, Drummer, I’m on duty right now. And I’m here to hand you this in my official capacity. Count yourself served.” He tries to hand a document over, the prez folds his arms.
“Whatever that,” Drum nods at the envelope Archer is holding. “whatever that is, I’m not interested.”
“This is a document from the court giving Ms Clyde, Amy Norman’s grandmother, emergency legal decision-making authority of the child. Put in terms you’ll understand, she’s been given custody.”
Drum’s face has gone red. “And what lies did you tell to get that?”
Archer shrugs. “Some of the men in your club have rap sheets a mile long. With the evidence I produced it wasn’t difficult to convince the judge that the child’s at risk if she remains with you, or to agree a biker club is no place for such a young girl. He determined that to let her stay with you would seriously endanger her physical, mental, moral, or emotional health.” He sounds like he is quoting from a textbook.
“And a twitchin’ drug addict is better?” Drum sneers, and addresses himself to Crystal’s mom. “You’re already jonesing for a fix, ain’t yer? You’re fuckin’ shakin’.”
“Just give me the kid.” She tries to get around Drummer, but she hasn’t a chance.
Leather-clad men move to stand between her and Sam, who’s still clutching Amy as though her life depends on it. Slick leaves my side and joins his brothers, making a solid line. Their stance is identical, legs slightly apart, arms held to their sides, hands hovering over their guns.
Archer looks smug. “You can’t refuse the order. I’ll charge you with kidnapping if you take the child. You’ll be breaking the law.”
Now it’s Drum’s turn to shrug. “Won’t be the first time. We’re takin’ her home with us. The club lawyer will be in touch. We’ll be contestin’ that order, and hopefully will do so in front of a fuckin’ judge that you haven’t got in your pocket.”
In a swift move Archer draws his weapon and points it at the prez. Drum’s eyebrows rise at the same time as fifty brothers at his back take out their guns. “Really?”
Crystal’s mother grabs the detective’s free arm. “Just get the kid, alright.” Her eyes look wild, her hair starts unravelling from her bun, and all signs of her attempt at civility disappear. “I want the fuckin’ kid.” Her voice is shrill. Her eyes flick round to find the other man who’d come with her, but he’s taken a step back, nervously watching the bikers.
Archer shakes her off, his look of distaste revealing exactly what he thinks of this woman he’s supposed to be representing as a suitable custodian for a three-year-old. He takes a step forward, his gun now pointing straight at Drum’s forehead. “Give me the child,” he snarls out.
As I hold my breath, Drum looks unperturbed, though a vein pulsing on his forehead betrays his rage.
“I’m not givin’ you shit,” Drum replies, looking steadily at the detective. “She is goin’ nowhere with this fuckin’ sorry excuse for a woman.”
“I’m warning you, Drummer.”
Drum doesn’t flinch. “Shoot me. And you’ll be dead within seconds.”
“You’re fucking threatening me now? I’m a police officer.”
“Don’t give a fuck who you are. And don’t doubt I know exactly why you’re here, Archer. And the reason why you’re so hot to give Amy to her grandmother. Neither of you give a fuck about the child. She’s just a commodity to you.” He pauses. When he speaks next, I can see the whites of his eyes. “Your game’s up, Archer. Don’t think for one second we’re not onto you.”
“Get the kid!” The woman, sounding like a stuck record, is unravelling in front of our eyes.
Archer seems to think for a moment, then steps back and lowers his gun.
“I’ll fuckin’ shoot him myself!” she screams as she starts to fight him for the weapon. Archer throws her to the ground. She gets up and starts kicking and punching.
Drum makes a sign, and while the detective is trying to evade Crystal’s mom’s attempts to get his gun, we fade away and get onto the bikes, and Sam briskly gets Amy set up in her seat in the back of the crash truck.
As I get up behind Slick, I see the envelope lying on the ground, being trampled into the mud as the detective tries to restrain the woman who’s clawing at him, with her shabby companion standing back, hands in his pocket as though trying to stay out of trouble.