Chapter Twenty-One
The Awesome Yumiko
There’s a reluctant dragging of feet as we approach the mansion.
I can’t help but admire the chalky columns that line the porch, where shadows of men move behind the large sash windows.
A flutter of nerves invades my chest as I step in beneath the steely stares of club members who don’t share the same enthusiasm for the guys’ arrival as the rest of the town.
The air is thick with the scent of hops and tobacco, while eyes follow us like those of marble busts in a haunted mansion.
I slink into Atlas’s shadow, but it’s hard not to stare at the top of the grand imperial staircase, which hosts a vintage motorbike with polished chrome and black steel casing.
Coils of smoke snake towards the high ceiling, an eggshell color from years of cigarette consumption, while the still-white walls display banners with the club’s logo.
The name—RENEGADES—heads all the banners in bold white lettering, above a skull between two bowed raven feathers, matching Leon’s forearm tattoos.
He told me that since they’re nomads, they aren’t permitted to wear the club cuts or patches anymore, but everyone here has the logo on the backs of their leather and denim jackets, while sporting a smaller logo as a chest patch on their front left.
It now makes sense that the guys’ jackets are discolored where their club’s logo patches once sat.
I bow my head beneath the low peak of my cap, but there’s no doubt that these weathered faces are wondering who I am, whispering and shaking their heads.
One guy with a wooden pipe even asks, “Who’s the new kid? ”
In the centre of the final expansive room is a well-worn pool table, with a cherry-wood bar built along the back wall. I shuffle my shoulders, trying to shake the unease of being in here. This is their clubhouse, which may as well be their church, and women do not traditionally belong here.
The club president, Kinsey, has a mane of frizzy hair, and he strokes his dark goatee, offering us bottles of beer with a smile, which tightens as he passes me mine. He readjusts the smile, which presses into his round, rosy cheeks, while planting his hand on Leon’s shoulder.
“So, Leon, why so long? Where have you been?”
It seemed quiet until Kinsey spoke. The men’s muttering has turned to silence, with only the faint whisper of music in the background.
Leon swigs his beer. “Well, Kinsey, you know me. Keeping busy.”
I follow suit and try not to stand out, welcoming the refreshing cold fizz after today’s journey in the heat.
Kinsey says, “Yes! There’s always bounty work on the table. You and your boys sweep the floor with the rest of the hunters.” He slaps Atlas and Zeke’s shoulders as he moves down the line. “Still sticking with him after all this time? An enviable brotherhood.”
The other men raise their drinks and offer a grunt in agreement, but Kinsey stops before me, side-eyeing Leon as he asks, “Your new friend? Are you not going to introduce us?”
Leon catches his sceptical stare, and the glare between them builds with broadening shoulders. The room’s silence assures me it is not only me who can feel the teeth-grinding strain between them.
“You know who this is,” Leon says.
Kinsey animates a surprised look, clasping his chest as he professes shock. “Leon!” He laughs. “My boy, I was asking a simple question.” His face straightens with a drop in his tone. “Who … is your friend?”
I bow my head with flushed cheeks as I become the focus of everyone’s stares, and Leon steps forward, going toe to toe with Kinsey.
A look washes over Leon’s face—one I haven’t seen before.
His lips are pressed, his nostrils flared, but there’s a slight taunting smile.
“I’m not your boy. And you know. You know about the Minneapolis job. Who told you?”
Kinsey throws his head back with howling laughter.
“We know each other too well. Ricky heard you had a bounty job, but no one else was offered it. And then at the same time and location … a woman is abducted? And I thought, ‘Who would be foolish enough to take a job like that?’” He looks around as he performs before his men.
“Nope. None of my guys… But I forgot about the club’s prodigal son.
” He waves his arms in the air. “Alleluia, let’s rejoice at his return! ”
Leon’s fingers drum on the glass bottle. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Kinsey. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Jealous?! No, no, no. How about concern? Concerned that the Cali King’s son has stolen a woman from a city. Threatening the empire he died for!”
“My father died for the freedom of America, not for the Renegades! He fought for his wife and daughter! For his family. For women, so they aren’t caged in cities or studied in fertility factories.
You’re the one threatening his empire, making deals with the government. Prioritising money over morality!”
Kinsey’s lips stumble, since his words refuse to formulate fast enough, and with his failure to produce a comeback, he huffs through his nose. “You got twenty-four hours, Leon. Then you’re out of here—you and your little posse. You’ve gone too far this time!”
Leon stands straight, brandishing his toothy grin. “Thank you for your hospitality, President. We’ll be on our way.” He steps past him and waves to the men. “Brothers.”
Their leers burn into our backs as we leave, drinking the last of our beers before stepping into the fresh air, releasing us from the excruciating atmosphere.
The amber glow of the streetlamps illuminates the faces of young boys gathered at the front of the clubhouse, and their bright smiles grow as we step closer.
“Leon!”
“Atlas!”
“Zeke!”
They shout, gathering around their favourites like mini fan clubs.
Leon monkey-scrubs them individually. A couple of children clutch Atlas’s arms as he curls his biceps to lift them from the ground, and Zeke is racing them to the lamppost. It’s as if I’ve stepped into another universe.
I haven’t seen children for years, and the guys were just being berated by their leader, yet they’ve dropped any residual feelings to entertain the kids.
I can’t help the grin that grows, just watching and adoring such levels of kindness.
“Atlas. Tobias. Cooper!” a sharp voice calls, stopping Atlas mid-lift.
“Uh oh… I’m in trouble,” he jokes to the kids before turning and throwing his arms in the air. “Hey, Mama!”
“Boy! Don’t you ‘hey, Mama’ me. Get over here!” she says with her hands planted on her hips.
Standing on a dimly lit porch is a petite older woman, her skin dark, with a golden headscarf wrapped tight into a knot atop her head, concealing her hair.
Leon and Zeke snicker at the scolding from his mother while we walk to her home. Atlas towers above her as she reaches up, pinching the scruff of his chin. “What? Too busy to shave and visit your mama?”
He reaches down, resting his head on hers and bringing her in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Mama. Love you.” He kisses the top of her head while she pats his chest.
“A year is too long, my son. Come in, come in. Let me get you some supper.” Her face lightens, and she turns with arms open wide, bringing her hands up to cup his face. “Leon! I see you’ve given up on shaving too. That Kinsey been giving you an earache?”
“Pfft. Nothing I can’t handle, Mama Cooper.” He removes his cap, and she ruffles his hair. “Is the club looking after you?”
She throws her hands down dismissively. “I don’t need looking after.” Her attention pulls towards Zeke as she brushes Leon aside and trots towards him. “Ezekiel, oh, my good boy. Look at you!” She wraps her arms around him. “Why am I always surprised that you look like your mother?”
I stand awkwardly as she pulls away from him and clocks me, squinting. “Sorry, I don’t believe I know your name.”
My mouth drops open as I hesitantly reply. “I-I’m—”
“Mama, this is Lee. A friend of ours,” Atlas says from the doorway.
“Oh, good. I love having my boy and his friends back. Come in, come in,” she says, herding us into her home.
Sconces illuminate the olive floral wallpaper, heaving with picture frames as I follow the faces, catching a few younger versions of Atlas.
Zeke gestures for me to sit at the dining table, central to a mint-green kitchen.
I look around the open-plan home, where lace curtains veil the windows, with aromatic herbs seeping scents of rosemary, chives, and thyme.
She dashes into the cabinets, pulling out a large pot.
Atlas leans against the fridge, decorated with children’s drawings. “Mama, you don’t need to—”
“Nonsense. My little boy comes home, and he’ll get treated to some good home-cooked nourishment.”
Sitting between Leon and Zeke, I watch in awe as she effortlessly chops, pours, and prepares a delicious-smelling concoction.
Her speed is mesmerising, as if her hands work independently from her upper body while she chats with the guys about their recent adventures and local gossip.
It’s like being a fly on the wall of a throwback family sitcom, and the warm atmosphere fills me with a sense of contentment I didn’t think I would feel again.
With a relaxed huff, she spins around, pointing directly at me. “No hats at the table.”
The guys’ faces crease as they await the revelation, and with a stiff smile, I lift my hat, letting my long curls give me away. Her face lifts with a slow but twitching smile, and I am half expecting to be told off, but she is giddy. “Ohhh, a girl! Ezekiel, how lovely for you!”
The colour drops from Zeke’s face as he throws his arms up. “No, Mama Cooper… No. She’s just… She…”
I snicker while watching him squirm.
Atlas laughs as he says, “Mama, she’s a friend of ours. We’re helping her out.”