Vacant MC Page 7

  Nico texted Hu. She replied that she was at a baseball game with the Wolfpack. Nico went home, showered, dressed nicely in a polo shirt and light pants, and went to find his wife at the Big House by the pool, typing away on her laptop. Bao introduced him to Becky. Her son Kurt was at the baseball game. Vi invited Becky to dinner, and Nico invited his wife to dinner. Both women accepted.

  Nico took his wife out on their Harleys, and she beat him to the restaurant. They had a lovely Mexican dinner of chips and salsa, enchiladas in a special hot sauce, and fried ice cream.

  Nico took Bao on a little walk through the neighborhood of shops and restaurants, and they chatted while they walked. She saw a shop selling baby clothes, and they bought little onesies, baby socks, shoes, and blankets in every color of the rainbow.

  “You realize that winter here only lasts three months, right?” he asked. She just laughed.

  They also bought cloth diapers, perfect for throwing over your shoulder when holding a fussy baby. They also bought tiny shirts and shorts.

  He looked at the pile of things and said, “Toys?” It was the right thing to say. Soon they had teething rings that could be put in the freezer for when baby was teething. Then, rattles, and tiny stuffed animals that attached to the car seat. They selected a car seat and crib to be delivered later.

  As he was stuffing their motorcycle saddlebags, Nico made a tactical error. “How many clothes does one baby need?”

  His wife raised her eyebrows at him, a dangerous sign. “Why don’t you do the laundry on Saturday? Then you’ll discover the answer to that question.” He knew he’d messed up and would probably pay the price doing laundry with Kiya or Aiden strapped to his middle. He sighed, and then resolved to quit asking stupid questions.

  They made it home alive and unpacked the saddlebags. His wife’s sunny mood returned, and he helped her to put the clothes in to be washed, and the toys in their spaces. He was pleased; he’d painted the room a cheery yellow, and he had added pictures of fluffy bunnies and happy puppies into the gender-neutral space. It worked, he thought.

  “Do you think we want one after this one?” he asked, and nuzzled into her neck.

  “Have no idea,” said Bao. “Is that the question you really want to ask me right now?”

  He smiled. “Would you like to come to the bedroom with me?”

  “Right question,” said Bao.

  He led her in, undressed her carefully, and stroked and rubbed her all over with lotion. He took off his own clothes and used his mouth and fingers to bring her to a climax. He repeated, and she came again and again. Finally, she grabbed his cock and inserted it inside herself. She groaned as he took her from behind, slowly, then faster and faster. Then, they both cried out as they came.

  He cleaned them up, then she went for a hot bath. He helped her in and out, and then helped himself to another round when she cuddled next to him. He was hungry for her, for her touch, for her love. Her whispers in Mandarin and English and the Italian she was learning from him. And the way she eyed him hungrily whenever she saw him, the tone of her voice when she caressed him. He cleaned them up again, and he stroked the baby, and talked to her. He fell asleep holding his wife, his nose in her hair, and a smile on his lips that very beautiful night.

  Learning Curve

  Henry arrived early at the training center. Bonnie was already there, her garage open, with the wild rock music pounding out. Her Soldier Pack was there, tearing apart a black Harley Fat Boy with its front end a mess. He set up the intake, checked that all the people would be arriving, and was glad for the early start. A man on a brand-new black Harley Fat Boy rode up. He had a paunch, a cinnamon beard, a Harley helmet, and was in full, Harley, summer-vented gear. When he took off his helmet, he had a do-rag on his cinnamon hair. He was tall and wide, and looked like a poster for the Harley Fat Boy.

  “You must be Henry,” said the man, reaching out his hand.

  Henry shook it. “You must be Red,” he said.

  The man belly-laughed, and then stowed his helmet. “I know I’m too damn early, but this is a dream of mine, to know what makes my Harley tick, you know?”

  “I do know,” said Henry. “Let’s get some breakfast, and we can talk Harley.”

  “First, what happened to my bike’s brother over there?”

  “Bought it from an insurance company. Rider had a heart attack. Didn’t make it,” said Henry.

  “Sorry to hear that,” said Red.

  “Let’s toast the rider after the class,” said Henry. “Right now, I want pancakes.”

  A woman rode up on a Low Rider. “Am I too early?” She wore ancient vented leathers, well-cared for, and was older than Henry by a decade. She kept her hair in a long queue like Henry’s.

  “You must be Darla,” said Henry.

  “Got it in one,” said Darla.

  “Pancakes?” said Red.

  “You’re on,” said Darla. They all went on their Harleys two blocks down and to the waffle house.

  Red and Darla hit it off immediately. “Phoenix,” she said.

  “Tucson,” he said. They both laughed.

  “Vegas, actually the Paiute res,” said Henry. “What clubs are you in?”

  “Road Mommas,” said Darla, turning to show a woman on a Low Rider on the back of her jacket.

  “Red Devils,” said Red, turning to show the stylized devil on a Harley Fat Boy on his back. “Got sixteen members, and several teens. Do a lot of off-roading. See you’ve got some for sale on your Soldier Pack website. Think I’ll check out buying one while I’m here.”

  “Good idea,” said Henry. “We have about fifteen… yes, fifteen in storage for our rides, and Robert’s working on one more.” He laughed. “Probably at this very moment.”

  “I can buy one offa you?” asked Red.

  “If the price is right,” said Henry. “And you got someone to ride it home for you.” He thought a minute. “Could be we can get one of our Soldier Pack to ride with it, catch a plane back. If you pay for that too.”

  “Soldier Pack?” asked Darla.

  “Program to help soldiers recover from PTSD and get a job fixing Harleys. They’ve got a nice setup, started in Texas, but not enough spots,” Red explained. “So, the Nighthawks here,” Henry displayed his Nighthawks skull on his back, “decided to expand the program in their shop, and it spread all over Southern Nevada. Got several clubs doing it. Part of why I’m here, actually, is to investigate it, and see if we could do it in Tucson. Not the largest town, but we could sure use someone refurbishing used off-road bikes for us. We love us some desert trips.”

  “Can I do it too?” asked Darla. “Need us a real good teaching mechanic, I suppose. And a garage. We could go in on it together, get a garage in each city going.”

  “You got any mechanics we can borrow?” asked Red.

  Henry called over the server. “Let’s order now, talk later. I’m a hungry man.”

  “Sounds good,” said Red. They ordered farmer’s breakfasts, bacon, sausage, pancakes, butter, syrup, a carafe of orange juice, and one jug of coffee.

  They heard the roar of another Harley, and a tall black man with big chocolate eyes, a square face and jaw, and a ready smile, entered. Henry stood. “Brick,” he said.

  “Henry,” said the other man. “Real name’s Charles. Got my name ‘cause I gotta head like a brick.” He sat down. “You order yet?”

  “Just now,” said Henry. The server came over with the coffee and orange juice, and he ordered the same breakfast.

  “I’m with the Soul Brothers in Atlanta,” he said, in a soft Southern drawl. “Heard you got a real good thing going on here. Wanted to meet your Soldier Pack, see if we could get a garage going. They could spin off, go all around to the little towns throughout the state. Been wanting to do more than just rides for the Wounded Warrior Project for a long time.”

  “We were just saying the same thing,” said Red. He shook Brick’s hand. “Red, Red Devils, Tucson.”

  Darla re
ached across the table and shook his hand. “Darla, Road Mommas, Phoenix.”

  Their food arrived, and they dug in. When they came up for air, Henry said, “You can’t have our Bonnie. Or Ghost or Killa. They are our bike builders. Bonnie you’ll meet today. Ghost and Killa work across the way at the Nighthawks clubhouse building three-wheelers.”

  “Sure would like to meet them women,” said Brick. “Nice operation to have. Bet it gets an excellent return on investment.”

  “It does,” said Henry. “They train Soldier Pack, too. In fact, they rotate. The Valkyries have a garage in Pahrump, Herja runs it. She has some damn fine mechanics she trained herself. The Iron Knights —they’re mostly law enforcement, ex-military, paramedics, firefighters. They have their own garage. You’ll have to talk to them. Be some damn fine ex-military mechanics in your neck of the woods, too, willing to train soldiers. Have a ride or two, build up the money to get a garage and the tools. The problem is housing them. Many of them don’t have shit when they arrive.”

  “Not a problem for us,” said Brick. “We got no problems hosting them.”

  Henry laughed. “We would have, too, but we ran out of room. Our club bought several renovated apartment houses and a house or two. We get rent once they start making money. The thing is, the list is huge. We get them out into the world when we can, and we help them save first and last month’s rent, or first and deposit. They room together or rent a house together. Got some I’d consider to be in their own self-made families. They help each other, complete jobs when someone gets sick or needs a mental health day. Some ended up working security instead, do the bikes part-time. Some end up hating working on bikes, can’t do it, or whatever. One of them lives in my house and works on my farm. The others ended up doing security for a local firm.”

  “The security people don’t care if they’re missing arms or legs, or PTSD?” asked Red. He held his hands out. “Not trying to be politically incorrect.”

  Darla snorted at him. “Logistics, not political correctness.”

  “Bannon and Gregory are both ex-military. They’ve found them to be highly competent. Two of the people working for Bannon and Gregory are coders in wheelchairs. One of them is ex… three-letter agency. Keeps getting shot,” Henry said, grimacing. “She’s working from home for him.”

  “We got a couple outfits in Atlanta, fit the bill,” said Brick.

  “So, a tour,” said Red.

  “Do it before class,” said Henry.

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” said Brick. Darla snorted again.

  After breakfast, he took them to see Bonnie’s operation. Staff Sergeant Tori Kym was there. She walked them through everything, from finding the bikes online (usually from insurance companies scrapping them), right through to getting them shipped, to tearing them apart, ordering new parts, and putting them back together. They were all fascinated.

  Billy Bob from Jackson, Mississippi, with a club called the Delta Dogs, came by at mid-lecture. He had slicked-back black hair, dark blue eyes, and a beautifully reconditioned Harley Heritage Classic in black. He stepped in, and Tori introduced herself to him, then kept talking.

  The last one, Sonja, with blue hair braided on one side and a purple smile, rode up on a Low Rider. She was dressed head to toe in dove gray, with a vented leather jacket, a soft gray top, gray jeans, and gray motorcycle boots. Tori acknowledged her, then kept talking. Bonnie then took over the class, going over the parts of a Harley, and the care and maintenance of them. They all watched intently, many taking notes.

  Henry took them across the street where Ghost and Killa were setting up for the day. Ghost told them about the parts of a Harley. Darla said, “Wait! I know you! You sell the mini Harleys!”

  “I do,” said Ghost. “Gotta be hustlin’ in this day n’ age. Gotta be doin’ new stuff.”

  “I hear Harley let you work on their new designs,” said Sonja.

  “Well,” said Ghost. “They be askin’ me to make replicas, with as many movin’ parts as possible. Got me molds I make myself. Some of ‘em be buyin’ from me since day one.”

  “Herja says you’re da bomb,” said Sonja. The women fist-bumped.

  “If you be done showin’ da love to my wifey, I show you how we get the job done,” said Killa. “My wifey be da best damn welder in da state. You find a bead to show these nice people, now.”

  “Yes’m,” said Ghost, making them all laugh. She passed out glasses, put down her welding helmet, and made a bead. She turned off the torch and backed away.

  They crowded in to look. “Damn,” said Brick. “That be a perfect weld. You go, sista.” They fist-bumped.

  Henry snorted from behind him. “I could make that weld with both hands tied behind my back.” They all laughed and went back over for more training.

  Gregory did his E and E class. Katya came over with the babies. They ate a barbecued chicken lunch, passed around the babies, and then the class had to evade fake children chasing basketballs into the street, and some of his operatives with laser pointers too. Then, Gregory held his sons on the sidelines. After the runs, they all drank flavored water. Gregory helped his wife put the now-sleeping infants into the car, waved goodbye, and told the riders what they did correctly and what could be improved. He said goodbye and then he went to work.

  Henry brought out the dirt bikes, and the riders took a short ride out into the desert. They practiced handling the bikes in the sand, rocks; everywhere, then went back to pick up their regular bikes. Sonja, Red, and Darla all bought the bikes they had been riding on the spot, and Red and Darla paid a premium for some Soldier Pack to drive them to their homes and take a flight back. Sonja called Herja, who was delighted to help a fellow Valkyrie, and to go to Northern California. Herja came down with Rina, a Soldier Pack graduate, and they took a three-person ride after a steak-and-potatoes dinner back to San Jose. They talked in a mix of English, Spanish, and Old Norse that left everyone very confused.

  They all exchanged phone numbers, and Henry gave them his information, including Bonnie and Herja’s information. They all promised to look into garages to create their own Soldier Packs. “This has been a real good day,” said Brick.

  “Abso-fuckin-lutely,” said Darla.

  “Let’s get some beer at the hotel. I’m tired of Coke and water,” said Red.

  “No smashing the furniture,” said Henry. “Do you need…”

  “We’ve got it,” said Red. He gave Henry a bear hug. So did Darla and Brick. “Let’s get hammered,” said Red.

  “Then a late start tomorrow,” Henry suggested. “Be open-eyed for the road.”

  “You want to join us?” asked Brick.

  Henry laughed. “If you had any idea how many young ones were waiting on me…”

  “Go,” said Darla. “Kiddies can’t wait.”

  “Grandkids,” said Henry, “soldiers, the Owl Pack of oldsters, and daughters everywhere.” He smiled and went out into the hot desert night.

  David met Henry by the ranch house door, with a cup of decaf coffee in hand. Henry took it gratefully. “Long day?” asked David.

  Henry sat on the glider next to the door, and David sat next to him. “Yes,” he said, “but it was profitable. Sold three bikes, and the time and energy of two Soldier Pack members to drop them off.”

  Robert came out and leaned against the porch railing. “Heard you sold two bikes today.”

  “Three,” said Henry. “You did two of them. Do some more.”

  Robert belly-laughed. “Your wish is my command.” He said, “Nearly done on the one I’m working on, actually. A blue one. Nice suspension too.”

  “Good,” said Henry. “At this rate, we’ll be short for our rides.”

  “Nope,” said Robert. “Tori’s a slave driver, much worse than Bonnie. They’ve got two nearly completed, just waiting on parts.”

  Inola came out, baby in hand. “Eebitsa!” said Ryder.

  David took her and handed her off to Henry. He held the little girl, lo
ng black hair held back with a plastic, pink, butterfly clip. She hugged him enthusiastically. She then began to chatter, waving her arms. Henry looked into her eyes and listened carefully. She used sign to say at least some of it, “play” and “eat” and “fun.” He nodded or grunted from time to time.

  Finally, the toddler monologue stopped, and she put her hands onto her face. “Eebitsa,” she said.

  “I’m glad you had such a fun day,” said Henry. She smiled, lighting up her face like the sun. Henry said, “Would you like for me to give you a bath after your long day?”

  She signed a “yes” and nodded her head. Henry stood, held her close, and Inola held open the door for him, helped him slip off his boots, then came back out.

  “What the hell is ‘eebitsa?’” asked Robert.

  “Grandfather,” said Inola, her eyes tearing up, and her voice going husky. “Her first word wasn’t ‘mama’ or ‘mom’ or ‘food.’ It was ‘grandfather.’” David patted the now-empty seat next to him, and Inola sat. David put his arm around her, and they rocked on the porch. Robert just nodded and, saying nothing, went back to put away his tools for the evening.

  Henry bathed Ryder in the tub, making her giggle as he washed her little feet and hands. She had a rubber pony she liked to ride on the waves with a purple mane and tail, and a little plastic brush she liked to run through its mane. She did that while he finished washing her, and then he washed her hair with baby shampoo. He rinsed her with the sprayer, making her giggle. She floated a boat and put the pony on the boat for a spin, splashing and making concentric circles. He took her out, put her in her ducky towel, and dried her well. She loved the water. He talked with her about her purple pony. She soon forgot she was out of the water and squeaked as she made the pony trot in the air. He dried her, put on lotion, slipped on a nighttime diaper and a T-shirt, combed and braided her hair, and soon had her sleepy body draped over his warm shoulder.

  He took Ryder in to bed and read a Paiute book about a painted pony to her. She mouthed the words and squeaked. He nuzzled her neck, making her giggle. He slid her into bed, and David came in. Together, they sang strong medicine into her. A song of life, health, and hope. They shut the door and crept down the hallway. Inola was getting ready for bed, just as exhausted as her daughter. They waved to her as they passed.