Money Shot: Selected Sinners MC Romance (20 page)

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.

SIENNA

I had never been much for having girlfriends. Women seemed too competitive, and much too quick to judge, argue, fight, and lay blame. As a result, during high school most of my friends were male, and eventually most of my male friends ended up being my boyfriend, although some only lasted a few weeks.

I attributed some of my reluctance to be friends with girls to my relationship with my father, and a desire to fill a void in my life I felt my father left when he went to prison. Living with my aunt seemed weird at the time, and having my father gone was difficult to say the least. Having a male in my life minimized conflict, filled a void, and more often than not, provided me with someone to have sex with.

My patterns of behavior as a high school girl continued into my adult life, and over time, became second nature. As an adult, I ended up with no female friends to speak of, and really never wanted any. The few men who came and went out of my life provided companionship, and my friends on Facebook and Goodreads who followed my reviews provided a constant flow of communication and often gave advice. 

But now I felt I needed more.

I wanted my father, and I needed a friend.

I sat at my parent’s gravesite with a fresh arrangement of flowers and swept the dust from the base of the gravestone. After cleaning what little dust had settled into the etching of the headstones, I squatted down and placed the flowers on the stone base.

“You know I love you, but I sure hate coming here to see you,” I said.

“Nothing’s changed, we’re still apart. I hate it, but I can’t change it. I went to see his mother, and that was enlightening, but a disaster for me. You know I will never do anything to try and replace mom, but I really like her, Dad. She’s so cool. She’s like what I wish girlfriends were like, but she’s a mom. Heck, I don’t know, maybe that’s what moms are like.”

I leaned forward and smelled the flowers. As I moved back to my squatting position, I continued.

“But with her it’s hard. She’s so nice, and she makes me feel, I don’t know, kind of like you did. She’s just really fun. And she doesn’t take any shit from Vince, either. But he’s shut her out, and hasn’t been there since. And just so you know, I still haven’t had a drink of wine since that day. Maybe one day I will again, but I don’t really know. So there’s that. Uhhm, let’s see,” I paused and contemplated what else I should say before I said my departing remarks.

“I guess I just hope one day we can work things out, but I’m beginning to have my doubts. I think maybe it’ll take a miracle or an angel. Yeah, and angel’s probably a good idea, so if you know one who isn’t busy, you can send one my way, you know, being as you’re up there with all of ‘em.”

“I wish you could meet him, I really do. And you know what’s funny? I was there for a while wondering if we got married, who’d give me away. So yeah. Not wondering about that so much anymore.”

I stood, stepped to the left, and squatted.

“I love you, too, Mother. I’ll keep you posted on the progress, but I imagine dad will fill you in. Same goes to you, if you know an angel, send one, I could sure use one. I’ll be back to see you before you know it, and maybe one day I’ll have some good news.”

I stood, blew a kiss in the direction of the gravestones, and turned toward the car.

If you’re still listening, I wasn’t kidding about the angel.

VINCE

As I sat in my driveway mentally preparing my morning, I heard the unmistakable sound of Jackson’s bike coming up the block. The cams he added to the engine gave it a very distinct sound, but the
way
he rode it was what made the sound of it being ridden stand out as different.

He rode it like he stole it.

Within a matter of seconds, he was sitting in my driveway beside me.

“What’s shaking?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Trying to decide what to do. Got to meet a guy at eleven, but that’s not for three hours.”

He hopped off his bike and straightened the bottom of his cut. After going through a ritual of popping his neck, back, and shoulders, he stood and glared at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Can’t be broken, huh?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“I’m going to ask you some shit, and I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me, and with yourself,” he said.

“Always honest,” I said.

“We’ll see,” he said with a nod.

“You need to just give up,” I said as I got off my bike and lit a cigarette.

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh as he pointed to my cigarette. “Have you a smoke.”

I took a long drag, nodded my head, and blew a cloud of smoke into the still morning air.

“So, you and your pop were pretty tight?” he asked.

I nodded my head and took another long pull on the cigarette.

“You ever make New Year’s resolutions?” he asked.

“What the fuck?” I asked, coughing out smoke as I did so.

He folded his arms in front of his chest and grinned. “Just asking,” he responded.

“Yeah, make ‘em every year,” I said.

He grinned and nodded his head. “Finish that smoke and fire up another, you might need it.”

“Get on with it, Doctor Phil,” I said.

“You ever go visit your Pop’s grave? You know, go see him or anything, and before you ask, no disrespect here. I’m just saying, I know a lot of fellas whose pop has passed, and a lot of ‘em go to the grave and just sit and talk. You know, some leave notes, and stuff like that. So do you do any of that?” he asked.

I nodded my head. “Sure do.”

“Okay. Now. You said yesterday when we were at that donut place that the only reason you dropped this girl was because she agreed to meet for dinner, and she never showed up. It’s undisputed you don’t carry a phone, but she could have called your mom’s place, because she’s got her number, and she could have called your place, even though you were gone, but she didn’t until the next day. You went by that night, and you thought she was gone, but she left you a voicemail the next day explaining that she got drunk and passed out. You see all of this as a broken promise, and how can you trust her if she breaks promises, right? Sound about right?” he asked.

“Sounds about right,” I said.

He uncrossed his arms and clapped his hands together.

“When did you start smoking again?” he asked.

It shocked me that he knew I had even quit. The entire time I knew Jackson I had smoked, and was never around during the time I had quit. As far as answering the question, I didn’t even have to think about it.

“When we broke up,” I responded.

“Figures. Okay, and before that, did you smoke at all? You know, maybe an occasional cigarette?” he asked.

I nodded my head. “When I was really pissed.”

“Alright. Now, here’s a few questions I want you to either answer, or just stand and stew on for a minute. Let me ask them all,” he said. “And then you can chew on ‘em.”

I shrugged my shoulders, pulled out another cigarette, and lit it. “Okay.”

He held his clenched fist in the air and extended a finger each time he asked a question.

“Did you ever make a New Year’s resolution to quit?”

“Did you ever tell your pop you quit? When he was alive or after his death?”

“Did you ever go to his grave and talk to him about it, you know, out of pride?”

“Did you ever tell your mom you weren’t smoking when you were?”

“Did you…”

I held my hand in the air, spit my cigarette on the driveway, and stepped on it. “Stop.”

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Almost everything he had asked, I had done. I gave up cigarettes, at least initially, as a New Year’s resolution. Before and after doing so, I had gone to my father’s grave, and told him that I intended on quitting, and after having done so, that I had successfully quit.

I had also told my mother on a few occasions when she said I smelled like smoke that I wasn’t smoking.

I felt sick.

Somehow, someway, I had become the exactly what I despised.

I was a hypocrite.

And there was no other way of looking at it.

I had made promises that I didn’t keep; to myself, my mother, and to my father.

“You look sick, Brother,” he said as he slapped his hand against my bicep.

“I feel sick,” I said.

“Probably that cigarette. Those things’ll kill ya,” he said. “So, you didn’t answer, you going to?”

“Don’t think I need to, you already know the answers,” I said. “How’d you know?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Most people who smoke actually smoke their cigarettes. You take a couple hits and toss it. It told me you either felt guilty or you wanted to quit. I picked the former. Asked a couple of the fellas, and Axton told me you’d gone without for about five years as far as he could remember. And almost everyone who quits makes a resolution. The rest was just a good guess.”

I felt as if my entire world had been turned upside down. My entire life had been lived under the premise that I was the one person who had never made a promise he didn’t keep, and I expected everyone who befriended me to do and be the same.

And I used my ex-wife’s shortcomings against Sienna, the only woman I truly ever loved, based on my belief that she had broken a promise.

“Think I’m going to be sick,” I said.

“You already said that. You’ll be fine. Oh, I got one more question,” he said.

I gazed down at the toes of my boots. “I don’t think I want to hear it,” I said.

“Don’t rightfully give a fuck, I’m asking anyway,” he said.

I shifted my eyes to meet his and nodded my head.

“You still love that girl?” he asked.

I nodded my head. “Sure do.”

He turned toward his bike, threw his leg over the seat, and fired the engine.

“Saddle up,” he said.

“To where?” I asked.

“Sienna’s place,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’ll go alone,” I said.

“Not an option,” he said.

I furrowed my brow and glared at him. “What’s that mean?”

“Means it’s not a fucking option. I’ve got a plan. You’ll see,” he said.

“I don’t know if I want to,” I said.

He revved the engine and grinned. “Don’t give a fuck. Get on, and believe me, you’ll be fine. I’m your friend, Brother, I won’t do anything to disrespect you.”

I reluctantly got on my bike, fired the engine, and shook my head in disbelief. After turning around, I pulled alongside his bike.

“Follow me,” I said.

As I pulled out of the drive, I felt in many respects like I was a kid again.

Starting my life from scratch again with my friend Jackson.