****
Going to her father’s house was not easy for Mona. She needed to tidy it up now that he was gone. She’d been on the fence about whether she was going to sell it or not, but it was her childhood home, so she couldn’t. It would be much nicer to move out of her small apartment and into the modest, two-bedroom house. She didn’t exactly need the space, but it would be nice to have it.
Loving father that he was, Benny had willed the home to her, as well as the ownership of the motorcycle club and a pretty decent amount of money. He trusted her. That was why, even though she was out of the loop on a lot of the stuff going on with the club, she couldn’t just abandon it.
When she went into the house’s garage, her eyes fell on Benny’s radiant, teal and pearl, 1994 Softail Harley. He’d owned that bike for ten years, remodeling it and fixing it up until it practically sang as it raced past. Benny called it The Duke because he’d purchased it from a now-out of business bike shop known as Duke & Wessox Motorcycle Emporium. Benny had other bikes, but none of them meant as much to him as this one.
Mona carefully got atop it, lying against it a little. She missed her father. Ryan expected her to ride with the club, and if ever she was to do so she’d want to ride The Duke. The trouble was, she didn’t trust herself not to crash and ruin it.
Ryan was going to be hosting a sign up for the Running Hill Riders at a barbeque joint in town. Mona knew that he, and several of the others from the team, were hoping to see her there. She closed her eyes as she straddled the old bike, wishing that it could connect her to her father. “I don’t know what to do,” she said softly, sadly. “I need your strength…”
Deciding that showing up at Ryan’s meet, even if she was undecided, was better than not showing up at all, Mona put on some tight blue jeans and a black t-shirt, then slipped into her father’s worn, brown leather jacket. It wasn’t fashionable to wear brown with black, but who would really care about that?
She elected to drive herself in her red and white Mini to the place, knowing full well that she’d be the only one to not arrive on the back of a hog. Mona Myers was responsible. She was no show-off. She didn’t plan to appear on the back of The Duke til she knew how to properly handle it. And she knew who she wanted as her teacher.
All eyes were on Ryan as he stood at the front of the room; he looked up and smiled when he saw Mona come into the restaurant. “—we just wanted to make it official that we will be continuing on in the traditions that Benny started. We have no plans to start taking on some of the more risky and illegal types of cycling. We are first and foremost about helping the less fortunate, not about showing off.”
He eyed Lance, who was sitting in the front row. Mona walked past the troublemaker, lifting her nose in the air a bit as she sat beside him. She wanted to be close to Ryan, close to the front in case her input was wanted. But what she ended up getting was ogles and leers from the Running Hill Riders’ red headed problem child.
“And now that she’s here,” Ryan said. “I’d like to welcome Mona to the front. She is, after all, the owner of our little club. Any of the decisions I make will be made with her full backing.”
Everyone clapped as Mona stood and went up beside Ryan. When she looked out into the small crowd that had gathered for this sign-up, she recognized several of the club’s trusty members. Weasel, Ryan and Arthur were there. They spanned the generations since Benny had started the club. Weasel was a few years older than Mona, Ryan was in his early forties and Arthur had to be close to her father’s age. She appreciated all of them for showing up. “Hi, I’m Mona Myers. For those of you who don’t know, my father Benny started the Running Hill Riders back in the mid-seventies. I have been entrusted with continuing his legacy. Ryan here has been put in charge of leading our group, but that doesn’t mean he’s the one who’s responsible for everything. What I’d really like is for all of us to have input. All of us to work together to keep this club successful and to keep my dad’s dream alive. I know that I can count on each of you here to carry on the club’s good name. We are like family. Any of you newcomers here today, I urge you to consider signing up. You won’t be disappointed.”
She went back to her seat to a round of applause.
“So, with all of that being said—”
“Wait just a minute,” Lance said, standing up from his chair. He looked around at the assembled group, smirking, full of contempt for the people he chose to spend his time with. “As Mona said, we are all allowed to speak our minds here. Isn’t that right?” He looked at her.
She was loathe to listen to him, but she couldn’t deny that she’d just claimed that everyone who signed up would be allowed their say in things. She gave a curt nod of the head. She hadn’t been thinking of him when she made that statement…
“Good,” he said. “Now, I say that there’s no reason to stick to the plans of an old hippie. We’ve got bikes with power, built to race and built to impress. Why do we always have to perform stunts at charity shows? Why must we continue to be seen as nothing but circus acts? I think that Benny’s dreams should be buried with Benny.”
Ryan cleared his throat. “We are a motorcycle club, Lance, not a motorcycle gang.”
Lance shrugged, appealing to the startled and confused expressions in the crowd. “There doesn’t seem to be much of a difference to me. People come to see these races and pay good money. Why not give the paying people want they want and have some real races? I for one am tired of these peaceful, exhibition shows.”
“The people who come see the shows are largely veterans with PTSD, you prick,” Mona argued.
There was suddenly a hush.
She saw it as an urge to continue. “My dad started this club as a group of vets trying to raise money for more vets. He and his friends rode in Roaring Thunder, in tours across America, racing each other and raising awareness about the consequences of war. Well, the wars have continued and so the Riders must continue to do their good service to this country.”
“Here here!” Arthur called over the clapping.
“If a club that promotes violence and crashes is what you’re hoping for, then Lance I think you’re in the wrong club.”
Grabbing his chair, Lance overdramatically knocked it over to the floor with a clang. He stormed down the aisle and out of the restaurant. He’d always been the most hot-headed asshole that Mona and her dad had to deal with. She couldn’t help rejoicing inwardly that he appeared to finally be gone.
“So… With all that being said, unless anyone else has a…complaint,” Ryan said, pausing to look around and make sure no one else stood up before concluding. “Please come to the table to my right and sign the sheet confirming that you’d like to be a member. Thank you.”
Everyone clapped. He came towards Mona in her chair, gesturing for her to accompany him at the sign-up table. She got up without question and joined him, sitting beside him as everyone wrote down their names and email addresses.
“We’re going to need to have a race soon,” he told her once everyone who wanted to sign, did. About thirty of Benny’s original forty or so members re-signed. The rest, Mona supposed, had joined the dark side with Lance.
She nodded. “What did you have in mind?”
“The Flag Day festival,” he said readily. It was clear that he’d been thinking it over for some time. “It’s not as big of a deal as Independence Day or anything like that, but it’s enough of a reason for people to be interested in showing their patriotism and support, you know?”
Mona smiled. “You’re pretty good at this.”
He smiled back. “Thanks.”
She stood up from her seat and was just about to start heading out when he placed his hand on top of hers on the back of her chair. “You know, I couldn’t help noticing that you didn’t write your name down…”
She looked at him quizzically. “I thought it went without saying.”
He chuckled a little. “Not about being a part of the club, but about riding with us.”
Blushing, Mona flashed him another smile. “I’ve been on the fence these past few days. I was kind of hoping you might make up my mind about that.”
“Oh really?” Ryan asked. “And how would you like me to do that?”
“Come home with me and I’ll show you.”
He waggled his eyebrows a little at that. As if he would turn down that invitation.