VINCE
I’d been running with Jackson on an almost daily basis, and riding with Axton, Otis, Toad, and Biscuit more than I ever had since joining the club. Jackson was what I expected my childhood friend would have been had he not died at such an early age. Stubborn, opinionated, and someone who immediately made me feel as if he would always have my back, regardless.
“So you’re telling me you loved this woman? Truly loved her?” he asked.
I took a drink of my beer and nodded my head. “Yep.”
“Bullshit,” he said.
I shook my head. “Sure isn’t.”
“You still love her?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nope. Can’t do it. She fucked me over.”
After hearing the inspirational story of Jackson and Emily, and how she waited for him for ten years without hearing a word from him, it lifted my spirits enough to tell him about Sienna. He questioned my love, however, because of my ability to walk away after she didn’t show up for dinner. It was without a doubt something he would have never done, and as much as he was harassing me about it, I couldn’t quite figure out what his angle was. All I knew was that the more we talked about it, the guiltier I felt for feeling the way I felt and doing what I had done. Having him give me advice was more like getting it from my father, which made it almost impossible to dispute.
“Have my doubts,” he said sarcastically.
“Doubt me all you want, I know how I feel,” I said.
“Jesus jumped up Christ,” Axton hollered.
“What?” Jackson said over his shoulder.
“Have a fucking look at this, would ya?” he said as he held his cell phone at arm’s length. “Jaye Campbell’s daughter works with this chick. Girl says she wants to suck a biker’s cock and ride on his bike. Wants some of the fellas to go to her tattoo shop and see if there’s any she likes. It’s the place where that kid I was telling you about gave me the tattoo without an appointment.”
“Crazy bitch,” Jackson said with a laugh. “That’ll start a fight for sure.”
“No bullshit. Girl says she wants to meet a few of the fellas.” Axton paused, cleared his throat, and gazed down at his phone. “Take five or six with ya and run over there, would ya?”
“Sure thing, boss,” Jackson said as he turned to face me. “And you’re going to be one of ‘em.”
“Don’t have any business going,” I said.
“You’re going for me to prove a point,” he said.
“What’s the point?” I asked.
“Just do this,” he said. “Come with me and act interested. We’ll have a talk after we get out of there. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to fuck her.”
“Well, I wouldn’t even if you did,” I said.
“You’re coming whether you like it or not,” he said.
After a few minutes, six of us were all saddled up, and headed across town to a tattoo parlor. After passing it, we cut a u-turn in the street, and parked out front at the curb. I got off the bike, turned to face the shop, and stared at the neon sign.
Blurred Lines.
“Cool name for a shop,” I said.
Jackson nodded his head. “I’m gonna get a quote while we’re in here. Come on.”
We all followed him inside, and immediately after going in, the owner noticed Jackson from his childhood. Oddly enough, they grew up together, and hadn’t seen each other for almost twenty years. It seemed Jackson’s presence back in the city was something meant to be, because not only was he helping me deal with many issues and problems, he was clearly making this guy’s day.
The girl from the picture on Axton’s cell phone walked up to the counter where Jackson was standing and raised her hands in the air.
“Listen up,” she hollered. “I don’t ever fuck with anyone but bikers, and I’ll only fuck with a biker if he’s got a big dick. I’ve got a foul mouth, a shitty attitude, and an insatiable desire. I’m no whore, and I won’t be treated like one. If you’re looking to hit it and quit it, you can forget it. I’m not your girl. If you want an Ol’ Lady who’ll out drink ya, out fuck ya, and probably out cuss ya, I’m your girl.”
I stood and stared, half shocked she was so brash. It seemed almost out of character. If I was the type of man to be attracted to someone based on looks alone, she would definitely work for me. She was drop dead gorgeous, had a fabulous body, but it seemed odd hearing her say what she was saying, because she was so damned beautiful.
“How many’s that leave?” she asked.
“Vince?” Jackson said.
I reluctantly stepped to the front and stood with my arms crossed in front of my chest.
“What’s your road name?” the girl asked.
I pointed to my patch. “Vince.”
She started laughing. “That’s your road name?”
Why you little bitch.
“Yep. Name’s Stephen. They call me Vince,” I said.
“You qualified?” she asked.
It was all I could do to keep from smiling. As my mouth curled into a smirk, I responded. “Look, I came up here after Slice showed us your pic at the bar. Thought you were a cute little fucker. Seem a little crazy for my taste now that I’m here.”
She stood and stared, and after a moment, her face washed over with concern. I hated to make her feel bad or that I felt like she was unattractive or something, so I tried my best to make her feel better. “I ain’t lookin’ to add a bunch of drama in my fucking life. Shit, I just got rid of an Ol’ Lady for bein’ a drama queen. Well, that and a whore. Nice to meet ya, though.”
She placed her hands on her waist, cocked her hips to the side, and glared. “I’m not a whore, and I’m not crazy. I’m just some chick that loves bikes, appreciates the freedom of riding, and appreciates one-percenters for being who they are. I’m a lot of fucking fun, really.”
It was apparent she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “What’s a one percenter mean to you? Who am I?” I asked.
“Well, being an outlaw. Fuck the man, fuck society. Riding isn’t a fucking hobby, and it’s not really a way of life, it is life. You see that mountain bike outside?” she asked.
I tilted my head toward the door. “Chained up by the door?”
She nodded her head. “I rode that motherfucker six miles here instead of taking a ride in a cage.”
I nodded my head. “Is that so,” I asked.
She cocked an eyebrow and stared. “So…”
“We’ll go for a ride or something,” I said. “I’ll be back, don’t worry.”
She nodded her head.
“How long you gonna be?” I asked Jackson.
“Gimme ten,” he said.
“Come on, fellas,” I said as I turned toward the door.
We walked outside, stood beside the entrance, and waited. As I leaned against the wall and joked with the fellas about the girl with the purple hair, Jackson walked out.
“Give us a minute, would ya?” he asked the other four men.
They nodded their heads and each got on their bikes.
“So, you think she was pretty?” he asked.
I nodded my head.
“Why didn’t you take her for a ride?” he asked.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest, sighed, and shook my head. It seemed foolish to even discuss.
“I’m not like that,” I said.
He nodded his head. “Only been with two women, right?”
“Yep,” I responded.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Remind me of me, you fucking weird prick.”
“So, answer me this. After seeing this girl, don’t you dare try and tell me a lie, either. What are you…no who are you thinking of?” he asked.
I really didn’t have to give it much thought. “Sienna.”
“And she’s the girl who you say fucked you over?” he asked.
I nodded my head.
“And you don’t love her anymore? You feel nothing?” he asked.
I uncrossed my arms, pressed my hands into my hips and glared at him. “Why in the fuck are you so gung fucking ho to get into my love life?”
“Call me a hopeless fucking romantic or whatever, I don’t give a fuck. I just know this. After going through what I went through and seeing all the shit I’ve seen, only to find out that my Ol’ Lady waited ten fucking years without me even speaking to her? Well, it kind of makes a motherfucker humble. If you don’t love this girl, well, you don’t love her. But if you’re being a stubborn prick, and you really do love her, but won’t admit it, I want to try and break you,” he said.
“Well, I can’t be broken,” I said as I reached for my pack of cigarettes.
“We’ll see about that,” he said.
I nodded my head and lit my cigarette.
“I suppose we will,” I said.