Rocco set his elbow on top of the front desk and turned his head towards the new biker standing a few feet away from him. Rocco jerked his thumb towards the wide, window where a row of motorcycles were parked near the street.
“You’re not going to get very far with that thing, man. Isn’t it from the early 2000s?”
The new biker, Victor, scowled and dragged his hand over his face. Rocco watched the way that Victor’s sausage fingers smoothed over the salt and pepper hairs of his beard.
Victor shrugged and said, “What do you want me to do, man? I don’t have a buttload of cash lying around to go get a new, fancy bike.”
Rocco pointed at his own bike, a brand new 2017 Harley Davidson. He smirked and said, “You’ll have to make something work, I’ll be halfway done with the race by the time that you even get that thing to start.”
Victor frowned and opened his mouth to reply but the sound of the kitchen door slamming against the wall stole the attention of both men. Clyde strolled into the front room, the fingers of his right hand were tightly gripped around the handle of his Chasing Spirits coffee mug.
Clyde nodded at Victor and walked around to the other side of the receptionist’s desk. He leaned back in his black leather chair and raised his eyes towards Victor and Rocco. “What are we talking about? It’s too early to start bitching.”
Rocco chuckled and ran one of his hands through his slick, dark hair. “I was just telling Victor here that he needs to get real about the kind of machinery that he brings around here if he plans on sticking around.”
Clyde lifted one of his sinewy arms and pointed his finger at Victor. “I know that you’ve never belonged to a motorcycle club before, but don’t pay attention to assholes like Rocco.”
Clyde smirked as Rocco snatched one of the notepads off of his desk and tossed it at him. It landed against Clyde’s hard, muscled chest, and he turned to Victor. “See? He’s an asshole.”
Victor chuckled and said, “I’ll see you fellas later. I’m going to go and take a look at my shitty bike, to make sure that it’s up to your highness’ standards.”
Rocco chucked another notepad in Victor’s direction. Victor ducked, the notepad whizzed past the top of his head. Rocco grinned and walked around to the other side of the desk. He leaned against the desk, and towered over Clyde.
Clyde raised his head and said, “So that’s what you’ve been up to this morning? Terrorizing the newcomers? We could really use your help with organizing some of these charity drives. I’m sure that Meish would love it if you sent some brain waves towards all of this drama with the Pythons.”
Rocco rolled his eyes. Tensions between the Chasing Spirits Motorcycle Club and the Pythons’ motorcycle club across town had been rising for weeks now. Meish, the president of Chasing Spirits, had been wringing his hands over it for weeks. One of the new riders that had been welcomed into the club less than a week ago returned from a ride downtown with a kicked in rear view mirror and a shrewd note from one of the Pythons’ riders.
I don’t see why I should worry about what the Pythons are up to. If Meish really wants to do something about them, then he can hop on his bike and have a chat with their president. Rocco shook his head and said, “Meish can worry about that, I’ve got too much going on. I’m going for a ride downtown later.”
Clyde’s fingers flew across his keyboard, and he leaned into the wide monitor that on the corner of his desk. Rocco watched as a multi colored calendar appeared on the screen, and Clyde said, “Meish doesn’t have the time to worry about the Pythons on his own,” he gestured at the screen and said, “he’s got all of this stuff to do, and I’ve gotta figure out who’s going to have the time to do it.”
Clyde had been the secretary for Chasing Spirits for years, and each year that he stayed there, he was rewarded with more responsibility. He stayed long after the club closed its doors for the day, and was usually the first one inside each morning. He interviewed new recruits that wanted to join the club, and he kept the peace between their current members while trying to keep Meish from finding out about any infighting. Any member of the Chasing Spirits Motorcycle Club would tell you that no one could handle Clyde’s job at the club other than the man himself, but there was one rider that consistently wiggled out from underneath Clyde’s thumb and did what he damn well pleased: Rocco Garrett. He and Rocco knew each other from living in the same shoddy apartment building on the south side of Chicago. Eight years ago, Clyde had been heading home from a late class at the community college, and Rocco had been standing outside of the building. He was occupied with half of a cigarette, and a crumpled newspaper that dangled from his hands.
Clyde would have breezed right past Rocco, writing him off as a hood, if Rocco hadn’t stepped in just as two men that tired of waiting for the bus stop approached Clyde. They shoved him hard enough to send his three-ring binder and textbooks sailing towards the cement. Clyde remembered how he threw his scrawny arms in front of him, and hoped that the thugs would lose interest once they realized that he wasn’t going to fight back. Rocco tossed his newspaper to the ground and flicked the still lit cigarette into the face of the thug that seemed to think he was the toughest.
“You don’t have anything better to do, huh? You’re just going to beat up on this kid?” Rocco questioned.
“No one was fucking talking to you,” The taller thug said, he shoved his hands into Clyde’s chest and sent him falling back onto the cement. Rocco slammed his elbow into the first thug’s nose, and ducked just in time to be able to send his knee into the stomach of the other one.
“Fuck these guys, Al. They’ve got some kind of romance going on here,”
Rocco guffawed and said, “You want romance? My foot’s going to be making love to your ass if you don’t get out of here,”
After a short lived back and forth between Rocco and the two men, he turned around and extended his hand to Clyde. At 6'2, he towered over Clyde. Rocco’s toned and sinewy body intimidated Clyde far more than the man that had just been standing in front of him. Clyde accepted Rocco’s hand and said, “Thanks for that. I know that you probably just wanted to smoke your cigarette.”
Rocco shrugged and Clyde couldn’t help but notice the honest look behind his chocolate hued eyes. “Whatever. I’ve been meaning to quit.” Rocco knelt down and gathered the binder, as well as the Economics 101 book that had fallen on the ground. He shoved them into Clyde’s chest and said, “Here you go. You know, in between studying, you should really consider hitting the gym. You don’t have to let guys like that get the best of you.”
Clyde managed a smile and said, “Yeah, I think I’ll start hitting the gym after class every night. You free around this time? I could use some help.”
Rocco grinned and pulled open the gate in front of the apartment building, “I’ve got nothing better to do. I’m going to need a new hobby now that I’ve quit smoking.” Both men shared a laugh as they head inside, and Rocco and Clyde went from working out together twice a week to looking for women in bars. Over the months that followed, Clyde had transformed his body, and while he would never be as tall as his best friend, his muscles were twice as swollen.
Clyde sighed and said, “Well, what are you going to do today? Are you going to make yourself useful?”
“I’m going to-”
There was a loud click, and a petite young woman in leather boots stepped out of one of the lounge rooms on the other side of the club. She tucked her platinum blonde hair behind her ears and kept her eyes away from Clyde’s as she moved towards the front desk. She wrapped her arms around Rocco’s waist and said, “I had fun. Don’t forget to call me later,” she pressed her lips into Rocco’s neck and headed towards the front door.
Clyde raised his eyebrows and said, “I hope that you cleaned up in there. You’re not going to call her, are you?”
Rocco grinned and said, “To be fair, I never said that I would. She thinks that a quick screw in the lounge means that we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”
Clyde sighed and turned his chair to the right of him. His open palm hovered in front of the printer tray while the machine beeped, and came to life. “Rocco, I think that one night stands stop being cool when you’re barreling towards thirty.”
Rocco shrugged and said, “I don’t think that the freedom to come home whenever you want ever gets old.”
Clyde snatched a bundle of papers out of the printer tray and set it on top of his desk. “I know that you don’t actually feel that way. It’s been years since Mariah-”
Rocco breathed a sigh of relief when the frosted glass door to the right of them opened up and Meish stepped out of his office. His hands were tucked inside the pockets of his slacks, and the flaps of his suit jacket flapped loosely around his potbelly.
He nodded towards his office and said, “I could use my secretary and my VP. We’ve got somethings to go over.”
Rocco and Clyde shared a glance before Clyde pushed his chair back and led the way inside of Meish’s office. Rocco rubbed at the corners of his eyes as he eased onto the leather sofa that sat opposite Meish’s solid oak desk.
Meish eased into his chair, and twisted his chair towards them. He folded his hands and set them on top of the desk. “Look, I’m going to be straight with you. I don’t know what to do about the Pythons.”
Rocco crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Well, we’ve known that for a while now. What’s your point?”
Meish grunted and said, “My riders are being terrorized by their people and their groupies. We can’t keep this nonsense up, none of us got into this to get into playground scraps with people across town.”
“I don’t mind a scrap every now and again.”
Meish scowled and said, “Be serious for once, will you, Rocco? I need to get these people to sit down with us and negotiate, but their president snubs me every time that we run into each other.”
Clyde leaned forward and rested his elbows on top of his knees. “Well, maybe we can ambush them. We could show up to one of their rides for charity.”
“That would only piss them off more,” Rocco interjected. “We’ll need to think of something a little smarter than that, something that will quiet them down long enough for us to get their attention.”
Clyde and Meish shot ideas back and forth, but their voices turned into a low rumble in Rocco’s ears. His eyes flew around the room, the dark red paint that covered all four walls always put Rocco in a serious mood. His eyes stopped on one of Meish’s favorite paintings, a piece that was done by a rider that had moved just last year to be with his family in Seattle.
There was a sparkling Harley Davidson reflected in the painting, the densely populated sidewalks of Chicago stretched out behind it. In the far back, just past a crowd of people, was a lone girl. Her blonde hair fell past her shoulders and just barely covered her breasts. Her eyes were focused on the bike, while everyone else moved past it.
Rocco sighed and stretched his legs out in front of him. He focused on Meish’s lips as the older man said, “We can’t put up with this shit for much longer. Chasing Spirits has always been known as the least antagonistic motorcycle club in Chicago, I can’t have my guys overreacting because losers from the Pythons wants to prove themselves as tough guys.”
“Then, let’s squash the whole thing. Let’s just corner the Pythons, address our issues, and find a way to bring the club together.” Rocco snapped and Clyde yelped beside him.
He narrowed his eyes and said, “I’ve got it. What if we do what some older fashioned clubs would have done?”
Meish leaned back in his chairs and pulled his glasses off of his face. He set the black, wire rimmed glasses on top of his desk. A heavy sigh slipped past his lips and drew out each letter in every word as he said, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Rocco scooted forward and said, “Back in the day, clubs around the city used to go out of their way to unite both groups when their members were going at it.”
Meish raised his eyebrows and said, “There hasn’t been a merger between clubs in years. We could ruin everything that we worked for by pushing Chasing Spirits together with the Pythons.”
Rocco shrugged and said, “We could try it. It might make them feel less threatened by us if they knew that we were on their side.”
Clyde sighed and said, “The problem with these assholes is that they plug their ears when you try to tell them anything. They’re making the rest of us look like idiots to the public.”
Meish placed his open palm flat on his desk. He chewed on the loose skin on his lower lip and said, “Rocco, you could take one for the team.”
The corners of Rocco’s lips turned down into a frown. “What the hell does that mean, Meish?”
Meish drummed his fingers along the surface of the desk and his eyes swiveled back and forth between Clyde’s frustrated expression and Rocco’s angry face.
“Well, since you were the one that brought up bringing the clubs together-”
“Yeah? Get to the point, Meish.”
Clyde tossed an irritated glance towards Rocco before sitting back against the safe. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, “I think that you should be straightforward, Meish. Looks like Rocco is in one of his moods today.”
I’m not in any mood, Clyde. I just want to know what the hell Meish is beating around the bush about. Rocco rolled his eyes and said, “What were you talking about?”
Meish replied, “Well, you could marry the Pythons’ President's’ daughter.”
“What?”
Meish held his hands out in front of him and said, “Now, come on, think about it. It could bring both of the clubs together in an untouchable way. No one is going to risk pissing off either person involved, or it’s their ass. Since you’re the VP, it would look great to the rest of club if you took one for the team.”
Rocco’s eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. “How about we marry you off instead? I’m not getting married, I haven’t even been on a date in years!”
Clyde nodded and said, “That’s true. He just kicks a new woman out of his bed every morning. Do you really want the Pythons’ President’ coming after us because Rocco fucked around on his daughter?”
Meish opened his mouth to reply, but the shrill scream of his desk phone cut through the thick cloud of tension that had settled into the room. Meish held up a finger towards Clyde and Rocco while he wrapped his other hand around his headset. “I have to take this. We’ll talk about this later.”
“Damn right we will,” Rocco mumbled under his breath. He strode towards the door and pulled the door open. The door smacked against the wall and a low whistle slid past Clyde’s lips as he ran his eyes over the thin crack that had appeared on the frosted glass door to Meish’s office.
Rocco groaned and stomped into the kitchen just past Clyde’s desk. He slowed his footsteps and inhaled deeply before wrapping his hand around the black, plastic handle of the coffee pot.
I’m going to need plenty of coffee if I’m going to spend all day trying to figure out a way to get out of this. He reached up and snatched an old mug off of one of the shelves that hung above him. A thick stream of black coffee splashed against the worn insides of the mug. A sigh slid past his lips, and he carefully set the coffee pot back onto the warmer. He returned to the lobby, Clyde’s neck was bent over a bundle of papers.
Clyde worked his fingers into the muscles on the back of his neck, and raised his head as Rocco moved in front of his desk. A sympathetic smile rested on Clyde’s lips.
Rocco took a long sip of coffee and after the bitter taste of the brew settled in on his taste buds, he set his mug on top of Clyde’s desk.
Rocco sighed and said, “You don’t think that I should do it, do you?”
A look of doubt flashed across Clyde’s features before he slipped his friendly mask back into place.
Clyde shrugged and said, “I don’t think that it would hurt for you to try to get to know someone in that way. You were right on the cusp of things with your old lady-”
The muscles in Rocco’s chiseled jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers curled into a tight fist. “I don’t want to hear anything about Mariah, this doesn’t have anything to do with her.”
Clyde sighed and said, “Look, I don’t care about what you want to do, one way or another but,” Clyde stretched his arms out in front of him and tilted his monitor towards Rocco. “it’s on you to figure something out,” he said. He pointed at the bold text on the screen in front of him.
It was a message from Meish that read: I’m going to be stuck in this goddamn call all morning. Tell Rocco that he needs to think of a way to bring the Pythons to the table to even consider negotiating with us.
Clyde twisted his monitor back around and said, “Tough shit, man.”
Rocco grabbed his coffee mug and hustled into one of the lounge rooms. He shut the door behind him and the cool waves from the newly installed air conditioner brushed against his face. Rocco smirked and snatched a used condom wrapper off of the floor. Clyde expects me to tidy up after I have a guest in the clubhouse.
Rocco fell back into one of the maroon arm chairs in the corner of the room. He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and sighed as he dragged his thumb across the screen to unlock his phone.
Rocco sank deeper into the chair as the minutes flew by. The small amount of coffee that remained in his mug had become lukewarm. Rocco blinked as his eyes landed on the first few words of the headline on a recent news article.
The headline read: Despite their grizzly exterior, the Pythons Motorcycle Club is responsible for a dramatic increase in volunteering across the city.
Rocco scanned over the first few lines of the article, and a section that detailed that the Pythons were making a strong effort to clean up the streets of downtown Chicago and encouraging local youths to get involved. Rocco scoffed and scrolled to the bottom of the page, he narrowed his eyes and pulled the screen back up when a photo of the Pythons’ President came into view.
He towered over the petite blonde that stood beside him, one hand was tucked into his pocket while his other arms was slung over the shoulders of the young woman.
The caption underneath the photo read: The Pythons have their president to thank for steering them in the right direction, when asked about what drives the Pythons to accomplish so much good, he responded, ‘My baby girl always reminds me to give back to the community, or else people will think that we’re hoods. I’m sure that she’d kill me if I didn’t.’
Rocco raised his eyes from the caption and focused his attention on the sweet smile of the girl in the photo. There was a thin layer of freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose, and rays of sunlight bounced off of her bright blue eyes.
I can’t believe that his daughter looks like the girl next door. I’m willing to bet that she’s never suffered anything worse than a stubbed toe. Rocco smirked and pushed himself off of his chair. He opened the door that gave way to the lobby, and rushed past Clyde’s desk.
The door to Meish’s office smacked against the wall, and Rocco stepped inside. He pointed at Meish’s headset and mouthed, “Get off of the phone.”
Meish scowled and pointed at his headset, “Yeah, of course. Chasing Spirits is always happy to do volunteer work. We want people to know that our riders are upstanding guys.”
Rocco sighed, and held his phone out in front of Meish. He stretched his long arm until the screen was just inches away from Meish’s nose. Rocco jerked his thumb at the photo on the screen, then mouthed, “Get. Off. The. Phone.”
Meish nodded politely as he waited for the person on the other end to finish talking. His eyes flicked between Rocco’s phone screen and the computer screen to the left of him. He gestured at the full schedule that was still up on the screen.
Rocco slapped one of his hands onto Meish’s desk and shook his head. “Don’t care. Important.”
Meish cleared his throat and his voice came out laced with barely restrained rage, “Excuse me, Sonya, I’m so grateful that you wanted to take this phone call on behalf of the city councilor, but I’ve just been informed that there’s an urgent matter that I need to attend to. Could I give you a call back this afternoon?”
Meish paused and drummed his fingers along his desk before saying, “Fantastic. We’ll talk then, thank you so much for time, Sonya.” He ended the call and sent a seething glare in Rocco’s direction.
“What the hell do you want? That call was very important, I thought that was obvious when I asked you to leave earlier.”
Rocco wiggled his phone in front of Meish and said, “I think that I’ve figured out a way to get the Pythons to sit down with us.”
Meish leaned back in his chair and set his hands on either side of his potbelly. He raised his eyebrows and said, “What did you have in mind?”
Rocco pointed at the photo on his phone screen and said, “It looks like the Pythons’ President and his daughter are close. I’m willing to bet that he’d give his left arm to keep her safe.” Rocco narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, “What do you think?”
Meish blinked and a shadow of doubt passed over his face before he said, “Seriously?”
Rocco nodded, “I don’t think anything would make a man rush to the table faster than the safety of his baby girl. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be left wringing his hands, thinking of all the things a few disgruntled riders might want to do to her.”
Meish nodded and said, “And if you get caught?”
The corners of Rocco’s lips turned up into a smirk, “If I get caught, consider it my resignation as the VP of Chasing Spirits.”
Meish extended one of his large hands towards Rocco. Meish’s throaty chuckle floated up to Rocco’s ears, as he replied, “You’ve got a deal.”