P-Nut

I twisted the throttle as tight as it’d go. Blaring down the street at 90 miles an hour, I was going three times the legal speed limit. When the shop came into my line of sight, I swerved across the oncoming lane and into the parking lot.

In a full-throttle run, I blasted past the shop’s open garage doors, locked up the rear brake, and spun the bike into a 180-degree tailspin.

Halfway through the controlled skid, I released the brake, downshifted two gears, and hit the throttle.

Now pointed directly at the open doors, the bike shot through them and onto the spotless concrete floor of the shop.

I grabbed a fistful of front brake and the pressed the rear brake pedal at the same time. The bike came to a screeching stop in the center of the shop.

After whacking the throttle a few times for good measure, I killed the engine.

Crip was leaning against the work bench drinking a beer. Unless he was taking care of beating someone’s ass, he could always be found in the same spot.

Against the bench with a beer.

“God fucking damn you, P-Nut,” he howled. “Don’t come in this shop like that. You’re going to kill someone one of these days. And, I’m sick and fucking tired of you revving that piece of shit up in this shop. It’s un-goddamned-called for. This is the last time I’m telling you.”

He was the president of the Filthy Fuckers MC, and a former navy SEAL. He was a wise man, a great leader, and someone I comfortably called a brother. Despite holding him in such high regard, I treated him as if he irritated me. In fact, I never let anyone know how I felt about them.

I considered doing so a sign of weakness.

I pulled off my helmet, hung it over the handlebars, and reached for my smokes. “That’s what you said the last time.”

“Well, this is the last time.”

“Until next time.”

“I mean it.”

“I’ll slow that fucker down when I’m too old to control it.”

He crossed his arms. “What the fuck brings you in here this time of day?”

“Ever heard of the Selected Sinners MC?”

“Yep.”

“What do you know about ‘em?”

“Decent bunch of fellas, I think. Midwest presence. Kansas, Texas, and maybe Oklahoma. Up and coming club, for sure. President’s name is Bishop. Axton Bishop. Why?”

I lit my smoke, took a long drag, and nodded. I was damned impressed with his knowledge, but I wasn’t about to let him know.

“Girl who lived next door is the cousin of this Bishop fella. She just found out. Didn’t know she had any relatives. Long story, but I might be makin’ a run out that way to see him.”

“Smidge?”

“Smudge.”

He shrugged. “I was close.”

“I’ll start calling you Crop instead of Crip. Suppose that’s close enough.”

He let out an audible sigh. “Need some club presence on that run to see him?”

I took a long pull off my cigarette and then blew the smoke in his direction. “Nope.”

He waved his hands through the plume of smoke, as if coming in contact with it would kill him.

He shot me a glare. “1,500-mile run is a long one. Going without a chase vehicle or a few of the fellas isn’t a good idea.”

“1,364, to be exact. And, I ain’t lookin’ to have any of the fellas tag along, thank you very fucking much.”

“Remind me why you’re in this club.”

“I love large groups of sweaty men.”

“I’m being serious. You’re one hell of a rider, I’ll give you that. And you never miss a meeting, a ride, or a run. When it comes time to take care of business, you’re right there, every time. You’re devoted, that’s for damned sure. But you want nothing to do with anyone in this club unless it’s on your terms.”

I took another drag off my cigarette and considered what he’d said.

I locked eyes with him. “I’d take a bullet for anyone in this club, you included. Two things in my life are important to me, family, and this club. But, I’m no different than anyone else in this MC. I don’t swap spit with every swinging dick who wears a patch. Don’t know ‘em that well, and don’t care to.”

“You run with Smokey, Pee Bee, and Cholo. That’s it. Club’s a damned sight bigger than that, ‘Nut.”

I spit out a laugh. “The patch earns my respect, but friendship comes hard, Prez.”

“Just saying, you ought to try running with a few of the other fellas. Get to know them.”

I thought of the prospect that ended up being an ATF agent. Smokey, despite my warning, had befriended him. In the end, he was a cop who was posing as a biker.

I chose my friends wisely, and only after a long period of them proving themselves. With me, trust was earned over time, and never simply given.

Trusting people exposed me and those I cared for to risks, and I wasn’t in the risk-taking business.

“Let me ask you a question, Boss.” I said, my tone sarcastic.

He took a drink of beer and then gave me a condescending look. “I’m all ears.”

“Other than club business, when was the last time you rode with Bones?”

He glared.

“Big Larry?”

He took a drink of beer.

“T-Bone? Lightning?”

“I can’t ride with everyone,” he growled. “I’ve got a club to run, ‘Nut.”

“I can’t ride with ’em all, either. But I’ll ride with the ones who prove themselves.”

“Your point is what?” he asked.

“My point is that you and I are lot alike, but for different reasons. You don’t like people, and I don’t trust people. End result’s the same.”

He finished his beer and tossed the empty bottle in the trash. “Suppose I’ll give you that. Let me ask you a question, ‘Nut.”

“I’m all ears,” I said mockingly.

“You trust me?”

“Trust you? Absolutely. Just don’t like you,” I said with a laugh.

“Don’t care much for you, either,” he said dryly. “You want some company on that run to see Bishop?”

I shook my head. I hadn’t even mentioned it to Smudge yet, but I was sure she’d want to go. The thought of just the two of us going was exciting, and I was actually looking forward to it.

“Doin’ this one alone, Boss. Nothing against you or the club, but I’m taking the girl on a fact-finding mission, and she’s pretty sensitive right now. Tough patch in her life. She’s kind of like me, she ain’t too trusting.”

His eyebrows raised. “Something need taking care of?”

“Already took care of it.”

“Care to elaborate?”

I considered simply saying no, and then decided to tell him the truth. I got little recognition out of being one of the good guys, and needed all the help I could get.

“Stepdad was beating the shit out of her, and I didn’t know it. Tough little bitch, that’s for sure. Found out he’s been beating on her for years. Saw her at Biggs a week ago, and her eyes was damned near swelled shut. So, I took care of him.”

“Her stepdad?”

“Yep.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.” He crossed his arms over his chest and inhaled a long breath through his nose. “I’ll pay that motherfucker a visit.”

“Already taken care of.”

“He still walking?”

“Yeah, but he looks like someone stuck his head in a garbage disposal.”

He looked down at the floor and shook his head. After a moment, he exhaled and looked up. “You said you saw her at Biggs. She the new girl there?”

“She’s the new girl in parts, yeah.”

“That’s Smidge?”

“Smudge, god damn it.”

“That’s her?”

“Sure is.”

“Jesus jumped up Christ. She’s a fucking looker. Peeb and me went in for fork seals. God damn. How old is she now?”

“Same age as your Ol’ Lady,” I said.

He shook his head lightly. “She single?”

I shrugged. “Ain’t sure. Smoke and I are thinking she might be gay.”

“One way to find out,” he said.

I coughed out a laugh. “Not like you in that respect, Boss.” I turned toward my bike. “I don’t fuck youngsters.”

“If you aren’t fucking her,” he said. “Someone else will be. Think about that.”

I raised my right hand high in the air. “Appreciate ya, Boss.”

If I’m not fucking her, someone else will be.

Oddly, that was all I thought about on my ride home.