Chapter 2 #2
“It’s been mild lately.” I shrugged it off.
The bikers who had been making these appearances liked to keep themselves hidden behind a bandana or, on occasion, beneath a full, black helmet…
unusual for riders of a Harley Davidson.
They appeared when she stayed after school to practice, was at an away game, or arrived at school early to work on projects for the social committee.
“There is a large MC presence in Ashland. Always has been,” I said to her, wondering if it was one of them.
The most common one being the Celtic Beasts with their blue dragon jackets, who roamed through most areas of Ashland, more often than not, downtown.
Occasionally, you’d see one wearing a Black Spade with flames around it, but they tended to stick to my old neighborhood or in one of the border towns.
“Not up here on The Hill,” she insisted. I guess she had a point. The Hill was in the East-End of the city, a sanctuary for the extremely wealthy in Ashland.
“Crime has been getting pretty bad lately.” I had begun playing with the silver buttons on my school cardigan, which was part of our uniform.
It was true. The presence of a major crime organization was no news.
Ashland’s crime rates had shot up over the years.
It should be no surprise that it’s extended beyond downtown and the West-End to here.
Everyone knew of a mysterious group called the Faceless, who apparently ran everything, including the MCs.
The news was filled with stories about drive-by shootings at known gang hangouts, bikers showing up in the low-end, grunge neighborhoods and beating the shit out of some small drug dealer, dead bodies showing up in the city river or dump.
Last week, they found a cop who had gone missing, rolled up in a rug, and tossed into a junkyard.
He’d almost been crushed by one of the compactor machines.
Two months ago, two young bikers with spades on the backs of their jackets were found on the edge of town, dead and strung up on telephone poles, their bikes in flames.
It was always the same. Drug dealers or bikers.
Some bodies were found in their rundown homes in Harley, others in the most random of places.
Like a single biker who was found in the park, sitting on a bench after having shot himself.
There were even car bombs downtown, close to Town Hall where the mayor and other city council members worked.
Ashland was quickly becoming a shit show.
I peered over at my friend, who was still nervously drumming her fingers, her gaze far away as she stared out the window at the frost covering the courtyard.
“Ny-laaah,” I sang her name, hoping to snap her out of whatever dark thoughts had distracted her.
I didn’t want my friend to be afraid. When she flicked her soft gaze my way, I’d already set my face so that my eyes were crossed with my tongue snaked out between my teeth, and my nostrils flared as big as I could.
She burst into a fit of giggles. She loved the fact that I had a rubber face and could twist it about for her entertainment.
I watched as she relaxed her shoulders, her natural smile now emerging, and added, “I’m sure it’s nothing.
Just the biker gangs getting more brazen and ballsy…
sticking it to the man, right?” I winked at her, and she chuckled, shaking her head before her nerves seemed to get the better of her again. “What is it?” I asked.
She let out a long, drawn-out breath and stared down at her lap, avoiding my gaze.
I leaned toward her, now really concerned.
She was never one to shy away. This new behaviour now had me nervous as I reached out and touched her knee.
Slowly, she raised her grey gaze to me and said softly, “But it’s the same biker, Casey. ”
I bit my lip. Well, this was new information. Even though we both tried to wave away our worries, hearing now that it was the same bike each time sent alarm bells off in my mind.
“Same one,” she whispered, her hands shaking a little.
“I only saw his face once when I left practice early? He’s huge, with long hair and a beard, with tattoos covering his body.
I could make out three skulls that were covering his entire throat.
He…” She trailed off and peered over her shoulder as though worried someone was listening in.
But the other students kept their space, all too busy looking at their phones or else were wrapped up in their own conversations to pay us any attention.
She looked back at me, her expression sober and worried.
“It was like he was… I dunno, like he was waiting for me.”
I felt a shiver race up and down my spine. This was something we couldn’t explain. Why was this guy everywhere she seemed to be? Why would he be waiting outside a school? Was he a pedophile? I couldn’t think of anything to say that was reassuring.
“It’s the same bike, black with that weird pale ghost along the sides.
It’s so distinctive. And with the size of this guy…
I mean, how many bikers have a bike with that graphic on the side, who are nearly seven feet tall?
” She shrugged and tucked a thick curl behind her ear.
“I know it sounds nuts. I mean, how narcissistic can I get, right? But, I swear, he was watching me . I came out, got into my car, and drove away. He followed until I got to the gated community and then kept on driving, taking the turn-off that leads back south out of town. The timing was just weird. But I swear, I’m not making this shit up.
I’ve seen that same guy and that bike more than once over the past two months. ”
I tried to think of something to say that could have possibly explained these weird coincidences and sightings, but honestly, I thought I was just nervous to say what was really on my mind and scare her even more.
Her dad was a freaking detective, for crying out loud!
In a city riddled with crime and known for the major organization that was running it all.
From what I knew about Mr. Bryant, he was one of the few good ones.
Any time I was at their house, he was stressing over paperwork in his office, arguing over the phone with his superiors, or venting to his wife about the crookedness in the department.
Now that I think about it, him being one of the few good cops meant he had a target on his back in the city.
It had been just under six years since I left Harley, but I knew how these things worked.
Any hint of a suspicious or worthy cop, and the guy disappeared.
“Have you told your parents?” I asked her.
She shook her head, still looking nervous as hell and anxious as she twisted her fingers together in her lap.
“I think you should.”
“Why? And just add more stress to their lives? No, I can’t do that to them.” She shook her head and sighed, seeming to snap out of her moment of concern and doubt. “Dad already has so much on his mind. If this ended up being nothing, it would only waste his time and worry him needlessly.”
“But what if it’s not nothing?”
She smiled at me, her resolve strengthening, and I knew I was battling a lost cause by continuing to question her.
Once her mind was made up, she was all in.
“It’s fine, Casey. Really. I’m sure it’s nothing, and I’m just being…
I don’t know, egotistical?” she laughed, now back to her usual self and got to her feet.
“C’mon, let’s get some coffee before our next class. ”
I wanted to push her to talk to her parents, but I knew it was over. Nothing I said would make a difference, so all I added was, “If he shows up again, please say something, alright?”
She rolled her eyes, “Fine. If the mystery biker appears on my doorstep, I’ll tell Dad.”
“Promise?”
Nylah’s carefree facade dropped a fraction at that. Nope. I wasn’t having it. I got to my feet and fixed her with a hard stare. I didn’t care if I was shorter than her. It didn’t matter. She knew what I grew up with, and so when I went serious on her ass, she paid attention.
“Promise me, Nylah,” I said to her, holding out my pinky. She’d started our pinky promises back when we were ten, and it’s something we’ve never stopped. So when I held mine up before her face, she sighed in defeat and hooked hers with it and squeezed.
“Promise.”
Seriously, where the hell was Mom and Matthew?
I had known they’d be out late celebrating their anniversary, but it was nearly eleven.
I texted Mom’s cell again, then my stepfather’s, and lounged on my bed, aimlessly scrolling through my various social media accounts as I waited to hear back.
I had a message from Patrick Cook, asking me if I wanted to hook up again this weekend. I ignored that one.
Patrick was fun to mess around with at parties and stuff, but he wasn’t my type.
He was a big jock, played football and wrestled, and had the typical good looks of an all-around high school heartthrob with his dark hair and blue eyes.
As much as I enjoyed a nice, drunken fuck with him, that was about all we clicked on.
He liked to talk sports, high school and professional, fishing, and his dad’s ranch out in the west, where he spent his summers.
Me? I spent my time doodling in my notebook, still wondering what the hell I wanted to do once high school was over, but kept coming up blank.
Matthew was encouraging me to travel around for a year, but Mom was worried I’d fall behind if I did that.
It had been a hot topic of debate in our house as of late.