One
Lexi
threw her bag down on to the floor, turning around on her heels to take a quick
look around the small but clean living room before walking over to one of the
windows, throwing open the white plantation shutters. A blast of sunshine
flooded the room, transforming the previously mediocre space into something
quite different. Now it felt bright. It felt welcoming. And that was something
this town she’d just walked back into hadn’t made her feel in a long time –
welcome.
She
leant back against the window sill and folded her arms, hanging her head as a
wave of tiredness washed over her. It was almost brutal, the speed at which
fatigue swamped her, and it was all she could do to pull herself away from the
window to look for the bedroom.
The
one-storey house wasn’t exactly big, so it didn’t take her all that long to
find the larger of the two bedrooms down a narrow hallway that ran from the
living room towards the back of the house. And just the sight of the huge
double bed with its pile of pillows and dark purple duvet made her realize that
sleep was the only thing she needed right now. That bed was the most comforting
sight she’d seen in a long time, and God knows she needed comfort right now.
She needed sleep. She’d been travelling for hours, alone, and just a little bit
afraid of where she was heading. Even though all she’d done was come home. And
you weren’t supposed to be afraid of home, were you? Home was supposed to be
your safe place. She just wasn’t entirely sure she had one of those anymore.
Sitting
down on the edge of the bed she closed her eyes and ran her fingers lightly
over the cool material of the duvet cover. She wanted to sink into that bed so
badly. She wanted to curl up into a ball and close her eyes, let sleep take
over, snatch a few more hours of peace before she had to face up to what she
was doing. What she’d done. But she couldn’t hide forever. She hadn’t come back
here to hide. If she’d wanted to hide she would have gone some place else. But
instead she’d chosen to head back to this small town in northern California.
She
opened her eyes and looked around the room, at the wardrobe in the corner, the
pale blue walls that made the space seem slightly cold yet oddly cosy; at the
window that looked out on to the back porch and a small private yard. And she
hadn’t realized her fingers had been scrunching the duvet cover up quite so
violently but as she looked down at her hand she realized that’s exactly what
she’d been doing and she let go immediately, watching as the thin material
sprang back to its original state.
The
sound of her phone ringing in the other room pulled her back to reality and she
looked up, at the door that led out into the hall and back to the living room.
She didn’t feel much like answering it just yet. She didn’t feel much like
talking. To anyone. And even though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do this
until she’d faced what was waiting for her out there in the small town she’d
left eight years ago, the desire to just drift off and let sleep take over was
too great.
Swinging
her legs up on to the bed she pulled them up underneath her, curled into a
tight little ball, and closed her eyes. This town was going nowhere. And
neither was she.
Two
The Brotherhood
of Lone Riders Motorcycle Club was founded in 1951 in Newcastle-upon-Tyne,
north east England, by a man called Thomas Hart, a disaffected World War Two
veteran who, along with ten of his closest friends, had wanted to create an
environment where their slightly left-of-centre lifestyle could be lived
without having to conform to the kind of day-to-day existence that terrified
them.
After his death
in the spring of 1976, his son Charlie took over the club. A twenty-one year
old maverick who liked taking risks, Charlie took great pride in taking charge
of the club his father had created. Just like Thomas, he wasn’t a man who’d
ever wanted to be tied down by the 9-to-5 routine. That wasn’t him. He was a
free spirit, a dreamer. And his dream was to carry on his father’s vision – to
see the Lone Riders spread far and wide, to give others the chance to live
their lives the way they really wanted to live them, not the way they felt they
should be living them. In Charlie’s
eyes, everyone had a choice.
Along with his
friend Taylor ‘Tay’ Farlow, an American biker from California whom he’d met at
a bikers’ rally in Las Vegas in the summer of ’75, they’d set that dream in
motion, putting the word out, creating more chapters, with Tay finally
returning home to the small, northern Californian town of Paradise to take charge of his own Lone
Riders chapter, as well as overseeing the setting up of over half a dozen more
around the US.
By the mid-1980s,
as well as the UK Mother
Chapter headed by Charlie, and ten chapters scattered across the US, there were also chapters as far afield as
the Netherlands, Ireland, and Australia. Charlie had made sure
his father’s vision had panned out exactly the way he’d wanted it to. And he
couldn’t have been happier. His life was the one he’d always dreamed of living.
He had a beautiful wife – in the summer of ’76, not long after he’d taken over
the club, he’d married his eighteen year old Georgia-born American girlfriend
Angie Barry in a wedding any true biker would have been proud of. They’d had
two beautiful kids; everything was perfect. But what Charlie hadn’t banked on
was his old lady and his best friend starting a dangerous game neither of them
had had the sense to stop.
Angie and Tay’s affair had almost torn Charlie’s world apart, but
with the help of the club, and the support of its members, he got through it.
He came to terms with losing Angie. He came to terms with losing his kids when
she upped and took them to California to be
with Tay. He got used to it all. Because
Charlie was tough. The club was his saviour. Which was why it hurt more to lose
Tay than it did his wife. That was like losing
his right arm, the betrayal he’d felt from his one-time best friend cut deeper
than anything Angie had ever done. And it wasn’t something he could just forget
about after she’d left for America.
That had been the winter of 1994. And Charlie Hart had been keeping himself
busy ever since.
***
Jesse sat down on
one of the tables out front of the clubhouse, lighting up a cigarette and
taking a deep drag. With his long, messed-up dark hair, full beard and an abundance
of tattoos he looked like everybody’s stereotypical view of an MC member, all
attitude and swagger. At thirty-eight years old he was handsome in an edgy,
darkly sexy kind of way; a man who was never short of female attention. Along
with his best friend Kip Hart he’d been a member of the Lone Riders for over
seventeen years. A lifelong resident of Paradise, a small town in northern California, he’d grown
up knowing nothing but the kind of life he was living now. His father had been
a member of the club so Jesse had been born into the lifestyle that surrounded
it. It was a world he was familiar with, a world he had no intention of
leaving. Even though it had thrown a fair amount of crap at him over the years.
He and Kip, along
with various other members of the Lone Riders, worked in the on-site auto
repair shop, most of them mechanics by trade, all lifelong bikers. That was
what they did. What people saw them do. And as well as the garage which was, to
all intents and purposes, the public face of the Lone Riders MC, the club also
owned and ran a small film studio – The Candy Cave – which made and distributed
mainly mid-budget adult movies, and a boxing club that ran regular fight
nights. All were legal and above board. All of them brought in quite a healthy
sum of money for the club.
But the work
people didn’t see them do, that was
another matter. And that was all part of the life Jesse loved – the
anticipation and excitement of never knowing what each day was going to bring,
the kick all that shit could give you. The adrenalin rush was like a drug, just
as addictive and twice as dangerous.
The Lone Riders
MC had respect in Paradise. They looked after
the town and its residents. They let nothing threaten their safety, or the town
they all loved. Nothing. And no one.
‘You okay?’ Kip
asked, coming out of the clubhouse and joining Jesse at the table, lighting up
his own cigarette.
Jesse looked up,
blowing smoke out into the clear blue, almost cloudless sky. ‘I’m fine. Why
wouldn’t I be?’
Kip shrugged,
nudging his cap further back on his head. ‘No reason.’
‘Everything all
right in there?’ Jesse nudged his head in the direction of the clubhouse, the
sound of loud, heavy rock music drifting out into the compound.
‘Fine. Apart from
Angie working herself up into a paranoid frenzy.’
‘Tay due back today?’ Jesse blew more smoke up into the
air.
Kip nodded, his
cigarette now hanging out the corner of his mouth. ‘You know what my mum’s
like. Seems to think every time he goes away on business he’s gonna find
himself a younger model and she’ll be put out to pasture.’
Jesse smirked,
taking one last drag before he stubbed his cigarette out on the table. ‘Angie’s
got nothing to worry about on that score. She’s one of the hottest old ladies
out there, and Tay’s crazy about her. Always
has been.’
‘Yeah,’ Kip
sighed, pulling one leg up on to the bench beside him, resting his arm on his
knee as he stared out ahead of him, watching the traffic go by the open
compound gate. ‘My mother, the MILF. You’d think she’d have realized by now
that Tay isn’t going anywhere, but she just can’t stop herself from thinking
he’s gonna be swayed by some younger, prettier face or a long pair of legs.’
‘That’s your territory, huh?’ Jesse grinned,
jumping down from the table, reaching into his back pocket for his black beanie
hat, pulling it down over his head.
‘You better
believe it, brother.’ Kip grinned back, nipping the end of his cigarette to
extinguish it before throwing it into the half-full ashtray on the table.
‘Church tonight,
right?’ Jesse asked as he and Kip made their way back over to the garage, the
late afternoon sun beating down on them.
‘Yeah. Tay wants to bring us all up to speed with what’s been
going down with the Vegas chapter.’
‘Where’ve Blake,
Cain and Luca gone?’
‘Coby sent them
out on a run.’
Jesse stood
still, his hands in the pockets of his oil-stained overalls. ‘A run? Something
going down?’
‘Alcohol run, J.
We’re a bit low on whisky and beer, and Tay’s
coming home so, that means a party.’
Jesse’s face
broke into another grin as they continued the short walk across the compound to
the garage. ‘Can’t think of a better way to welcome our President back.’
***
Tay
threw his bags down on the clubhouse floor, flung his arms in the air, and let
forth a shout so loud dogs a block away started barking. ‘Daddy’s home!’
Tall and rangy
with short, curly black hair, a goatee beard, and a physique that belied his
fifty-nine years Tay Farlow was glad to be back after his short trip away.
President of the Lone Riders northern California
chapter, he’d lived his whole life in Paradise.
It was a town he cared a great deal about, which was why he’d made sure this
chapter had based itself right here, in his own back yard. Because he wanted to
protect it, and everyone who lived there. They were his friends. His family.
And all he wanted was for them to be able to live their lives in a safe
environment. With the Riders in control, Tay
knew that’s what they’d have.
‘Baby!’ Angie
screeched, almost running from the clubhouse kitchen, throwing herself into his
arms as Kip and Jesse made childish “vomiting” noises, laughing like a couple
of teenagers instead of the grown men they were. ‘Oh, honey, I have missed you
so much!’
‘I’ve missed you,
too!’ Tay smiled, kissing her quickly before
letting her go, making his way over to the other club members who’d already
gathered in the clubhouse. ‘No welcome home party?’ He grinned, hugging his
close friend and the club’s Vice President Coby Walker. The two men shared a
love of scotch whisky, women and motorbikes, and although they’d had their fair
share of rifts, fights and disagreements over the years, they’d always remained
tight.
An ex-military
man, originally from Glasgow, Scotland, Coby had started his life as a Lone
Rider with Charlie over in north east England at the age of twenty-four.
Three years later Charlie had sent him across the pond to help out in the Paradise chapter. Tay
had taken him under his wing, they’d formed a firm friendship, a mutual
respect, and the rest was history. He’d been in California ever since.
At almost
forty-nine years old and over six feet tall with dark brown hair that was shot
through with streaks of grey and just long enough to brush the collar of his
black leather cut, Coby Walker was very much an old-school biker, incredibly striking
in a roughed-up, unconventional kind of way. Which meant that, with his
wide-set dark eyes, tattoo-covered body, battle-scarred face, thick goatee
beard and moustache, and a strong Glaswegian accent he’d never lost despite all
his years living in California,
he was never short of women. And never one to let any of them down. He’d given
his life to the Lone Riders, and he was living that life to the full.
‘Jesus, Tay, you
know there’s a party,’ Coby laughed, pushing his friend away, turning to face the
bar, pouring Tay a large measure of whisky.
‘Like we need an excuse.’ He handed Tay his
drink before pouring one for himself, knocking it back in a single mouthful.
‘I knew you
wouldn’t let me down.’ Tay grinned, helping
himself to another drink. ‘Church first, though. Get you guys up to speed.’ He
looked over at Angie. ‘I trust no shit went down while I was away?’
‘Everything’s
fine,’ Angie said, walking over to him, playing with the open edges of his cut.
‘What about you? Everything go okay?’
‘It’s all sorted,
baby, don’t you worry. The Vegas chapter got themselves a brand new President,
so no more in-house problems. That kinda crap I can do without at my age,
believe me.’ Tay turned to look at his crew,
from the young Prospects all eager to make a good impression, to the familiar
faces that had surrounded him for years. He loved them all. He loved this place. ‘Everyone here?’ he asked,
slipping his arm around Angie’s waist.
‘Cain’s just
bringing another case of beer through from out back,’ Angie said, running a
hand through her red-streaked hair before shaking it out. ‘Wanted to make sure
we had enough for tonight, so we got a few extra supplies in to tide us over
until the next delivery. Nothing worse than running out of beer at a Lone
Riders party, huh?’
Tay
grinned, giving her waist another squeeze. ‘You got that right. Come on. Let’s
get this show on the road. The sooner we get this meeting over with, the sooner
we can start drinking!’
***
Lexi sat on the
edge of the low wall, pulling at the top of her knee-high biker boots, a
nervous reaction she hadn’t even been aware she’d adopted. So she started
chewing on a nail instead, hating the fact she felt like a frightened teenager
instead of the thirty-five year old woman she was. She should have had a handle
on all of this by now, but if that was the case, why had she waited until after
dark to come here? Why wasn’t she doing this in broad daylight, like she’d
promised herself she would? Because she wasn’t doing anything tonight, that’s
why. She was here only to observe, to see what she needed to see. The rest she
had yet to work out.
Staring out
ahead, she watched as the lights from the garage and the neighbouring office
were switched off, the compound now lit up only by strings of white bulbs
hanging from the canopy outside the clubhouse and a small, contained fire she’d
watched someone start that bathed the whole of the yard in a warm orange glow.
She leant forward
as more bodies flooded out into the compound, voices raised and laughter loud
as the music was turned up a notch and another Lone Riders party got underway.
Parties she was all too familiar with. They’d been a part of her life since –
since forever. She leant further forward, squinting slightly as she tried to
see if there were any new faces. She couldn’t really tell from so far away. But
she had a feeling that – apart from the Prospects who were bound to be new –
everything would be just the same. As familiar as it had been the day she’d
left just over eight years ago.
Hanging her head
she clasped her hands between her knees and breathed in deeply, a wave of
nerves washing over her. There was a part of her that just wanted to run, back
to where she’d come from, away from this and everything it could kick up, but
there was another part of her that knew she had to do this. She had to face
this. She’d come back to Paradise for a reason
– it was her home. It was where she belonged, even though she’d spent the first
fourteen years of her life in England.
But Paradise – it was her home. And she wanted
that safety back. She needed some questions answered. She needed to find her
own truth because, for far too long, she’d been living someone else’s.
Taking one more
long, deep breath she stood up, exhaling quickly, her eyes staring straight
ahead at the party carrying on right there in front of her, everyone blissfully
unaware that she was outside. Waiting to make her return.
Keeping her eyes
focused on the Lone Riders compound, she put one tentative foot in front of the
other and walked slowly across the road. Reaching the now-locked front gate she
placed her hands on the cold metal, surprised they hadn’t pulled the solid gate
across that blocked the compound from public view when necessary.
She stared
through into the yard, her heart starting to beat at a rate she hadn’t been
expecting. It was thudding so hard inside her it was almost painful. And that
beating only got faster and harder when she saw him, for the first time since
the events that had led to her leaving almost eight years ago. And everything that
had happened since. He was leaning against one of the bikes, laughing with Kip,
and she briefly closed her eyes as the memories she knew would never leave her
flooded her brain.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ she
whispered, bowing her head. ‘Jesus!’
Raising her gaze
she watched as he pulled his hat down over his head, and she remembered how
she’d sometimes liked him to keep it on when they’d made love, just as he’d
always liked her to keep her biker boots on, and those memories caused Lexi’s
heart to crack with a pain that was all-too familiar to her now.
Letting go of the
gate she turned around, leaning back against it, closing her eyes again as the
enormity of what she was doing – of what she’d already done – finally sunk in.
But that was enough for tonight. This was all she could do. Everything else
could wait until tomorrow.
© Michelle Betham 2014
Revolution is available to download now from Amazon:
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