Chapter 26 #2
Slice narrows his gaze at him. “Have you established contact with anyone at the top of Mount Meth ?”
“ Not yet … But it is inevitable.” Legion’s eyes slide to me for a moment. He’s withholding his theory about who is running things. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want the Jokers to know about it. At least, not yet.
“I’ve made my call,” Slice declares as he folds up the map and hands it to his Sergeant at Arms. His steely gaze shifts to me. “You went to war with this prick’s former crew and didn’t involve us in the fray. I’m not going to insist you ride with us to hit this location.”
“You would have fought with us had I called.”
He simply nods.
“When are we rolling out?”
A slight grin tugs at the corner of Slice’s mouth. “Tonight.”
W hen I pulled out my debit card to pay for Dean’s new motorcycle boots, I noticed the business card Viking gave me in the gym a few days before Thanksgiving.
The address isn’t too far from the Harley Davidson dealership either, and since Latisha only had an hour break from work to do a little shopping and chatting, I decided to stop by this all-girls gym and see what classes they offer.
The building looks like a large garage. There’s no signage, but this is the address on the card.
There are two Harley-Davidson motorcycles in the lot.
One has a purple metallic paint job with a black leather seat and matching silver-studded saddlebags.
The other bike is a dark gunmetal color and is a slightly smaller, sportier-looking model.
I park near the door with the open sign in the window, and glance back at Ace in his car seat. The thirty-minute ride nearly put him to sleep. I know he’s going to be a little grumpy, but I would never leave him in the car alone.
Thankfully, he doesn’t complain and insists on walking into the building himself.
When I push open the glass door, a bell jingles above us, and we step inside, Ace’s small hand snug in mine.
The scent of rubber mats and faint traces of disinfectant waft through the spacious room where a few workout machines line one side.
Mostly treadmills and weight benches, but the main floor is open and covered in thick black mats.
There are a few closed doors where I imagine more equipment might be, or perhaps they’re workshop rooms or the lockers and showers.
There’s nothing in the way of advertising or even a little décor that would suggest this is a women-only gym.
I wonder if they’re just getting started and haven’t officially opened yet.
Ace spots a rowing machine and points, tugging my hand. He likes to watch his father and uncles use that one at the Saviors’ gym, as well as play on the treadmills. His favorite activity, though, is wrestling in the ring with his uncles, especially when they pretend to be defeated by him.
“Mommy has to talk to the lady, Ace,” I whisper as we approach the counter. “Hello,” I smile pleasantly at the brunette I just realized is staring at me. She looks oddly surprised but recovers quickly and smiles back.
“Hey, what can I do for you?” I immediately notice her Long Island accent.
“A friend gave me your card. I’m interested in the women’s self-defense class. He told me you do that here.”
“We do… I think there’s a sign-up sheet around here somewhere,” she says, reaching behind the desk to open a drawer or two. I notice the simple, but elegant tattoo on her inner left wrist. The word Joy within an infinity symbol that connects to the J and the Y. “What’s your name?”
“Vanna Keegan.”
She freezes for a split second upon my reply. “Let me get you the form to fill out. I’ll be right back.” She walks a few steps to what I presume is an office. There’s a big window facing the back of the counter, but the blinds are drawn.
“ What do I do?” I overhear her ask someone back there.
“About what, Ryder?” a voice with a Brooklyn accent I’m fairly certain I recognize asks.
“It’s her.”
“ Her who?”
I listen intently but can’t hear what either of them is saying now, if they’re saying anything at all. A moment passes before the attractive, dark-haired biker chick I met briefly at the Jokers’ clubhouse emerges. She’s wearing workout clothes now, but it’s definitely Jett.
“Hey, gorgeous!” she smiles uncomfortably as she approaches the counter.
“Hi… I was interested in the self-defense class,” I say again.
Ace is getting restless by my side, tugging at my hand and pointing at the stair-master now.
We don’t have one of those at our gym, and he’s curious about it.
I lift him up to hold him and look back at Jett. Something is really off here.
Her uncomfortable smile remains as she tells me, “Our little joint is kind of a hike from your neck of the woods, though, ain’t it?”
“I used to drive this distance for work every day. Doing so for a couple of classes isn’t a big deal. It’s not like I want to train for a competition. Can you tell me about the class?”
“Is there a particular reason you’re interested in self-defense?” she asks, unable to disguise her concern.
I could give her a straight answer, but I decide to play whatever this game is, a little longer. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, I’m not tryin’ to pry, doll face. Just making sure you’re okay. Nobody’s bothering you, right ?” she sounds strangely concerned.
“No… You do remember who my husband is, don’t you?” I ask, wondering if I’ve somehow jumped into an alternate universe, or maybe the Twilight Zone.
“Which is why I’m wondering,” she says.
“I was referred by a friend. I’ve done a little kickboxing over the last few months, but I’d like to acquire some additional skills.
And since you seem to be aware of who my husband is, he’s a very busy man and not very keen on the idea of me wrestling around with male trainers.
I’m not excusing the sexism, but considering where you and I met, I’m sure you know how these biker guys can be.
Besides, I’m more comfortable with the idea of a woman trainer in this aspect, anyway.
Now, can you tell me about the classes you offer? ”
“Fair enough. We have a single multi-hour workshop for the basics that can be knocked out in a day. We’ve also got a RAD program. That’s a twelve-hour course split across several days.”
“RAD?”
She glances at Ace and clears her throat before speaking softly. “ Rape Aggression Defense . Our workshops all cover multiple techniques and situational awareness.”
“How much are the classes?”
“It’s our club’s mission to help women, so they’re free. But we do accept donations to keep the lights on and equipment working.”
“That’s amazing.” I can’t help but smile.
Maybe that’s why this place seems a bit sparse.
Jett returns the expression, but still seems slightly uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, but is there some issue I’m unaware of between us?
Does it have something to do with what you said at the Jokers’ party?
” I try to remember her exact words. “Something along the lines of us needing to have an uncomfortable conversation?”
She glances at my son again. “Maybe we ought to rain check that convo?” she suggests. “It might not be child-appropriate.”
“I’ve never met any of you, yet for some reason you, or at least your friend Val , seem to have a problem with me. I’d like to know what the issue is.”
“Val doesn’t have a problem with you, I promise.” Jett seems to insist with a level of sincerity. “None of the Steel Vixens do.”
“Is Val here somewhere? Maybe she can tell me herself.”
“She’s not right now.” Jett grabs a pen and a Post-it. “Look, give me your information and I’ll contact you with the schedule of our next classes. That okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I relay my information, which she jots down and tucks into her pocket.
“What friend recommended you to us?” she seems to ask with a bit of reservation. When I inform her it was Viking, she nearly sighs in relief.
“Oh, that one.” She awkwardly chuckles.
“Who did you think referred me?”
She shrugs. “No idea, was just curious… It’s business appropriate to ask those questions, ya know?”
I suppose…
The rumbling of another motorcycle pulling up outside seems to make her tense even more, and she clears her throat again, unusually loud.
“ Yeah, I’m on it!” The woman she called Ryder, rushes out of the office where she’s been for the duration of this odd conversation, and bolts out the front door. When I glance at Jett again, she’s got another tense smile plastered across her pretty face.
“Is there a number to call here?” I don’t bother trying to hide the accusatory tone in my words. “You know, in case you happen to lose mine .”
“ Heh … yeah…” Jett jots down a number on another Post-it and hands it to me. “Have a nice day, Vanna. Be safe.”
Well, that was obviously my cue to leave. I force a parting smile of my own and head for the door.
There’s another motorcycle parked by the original two, which must belong to Jett and Ryder.
This one is a ruby-red Indian scout with a black seat and black studded side bags, though the studs are faux rubies that match the paint job.
It’s a cute bike. I glance around for the woman who owns it, but there’s nobody out here.
Is it Val’s bike? Did she go in another door?
Is she avoiding me? I can’t help but wonder what the hell is going on as I strap Ace back into his car seat for the ride home.
“ I t seems I am not the only one making virtue of necessity.” Legion slides into the chair adjacent to me in the Jokers’ main club room. He isn’t wrong. I can feel him studying me, but I keep my gaze fixed on one of the flatscreens mounted to the wall. “You could have swayed him.”
“Not my territory, not my call. My priority is Bermuda County.”
He scoffs. “I don’t believe you, Savior .”
“I don’t care what you believe. Slice is calling the shots. This is what he wants. Maybe they’ll get the message as he intends it to be received.”