CHAPTER 16
DIMPLES
One last time, I count the bikes parked in the lot. Everyone’s here, so it won’t be long before we start the run. Though this is my thirteenth year riding with the Iron Thorns and my third as road captain, the first pack ride of the season never gets old. I’ve had a smile on my face all morning.
I tell myself it’s the ride, not last night. True to her word, Jazmin didn’t kiss me. After midnight, we ended the night with a quick hug and crossed no lines.
I shared more of my past with Jazmin than I have with anyone other than Storm. While I’d only touched the tip of the iceberg, I was stunned how natural it felt with Jazmin. Probably because she was so open about growing up in Cabrini-Green.
With as long as we talked, my bike is spotless, and things feel right. I can do this. Build a friendship with Jazmin and not cause a scandal. No way will I give Frost ammunition against Storm. Besides, friends are safer than lovers.
“Hey, Captain,” Halo calls. “How long before kickstands up?”
I glance at my watch. “Ya got ten minutes. Better make your last pitstop.”
Halo chuckles. “I’m heading that way.”
It’s our ongoing joke. Halo has the smallest bladder in the club, so I’m always having to build in extra stops when she’s on a ride.
I spot Rouge’s unmistakable red bandanna as she comes from the club. I make a beeline toward her.
“Hey, Captain,” Rouge says with a big smile.
“Hey, Gunner,” I respond as I give her a hug. “Are you ready?”
I chose Rouge as the tail gunner for this ride because she’s the best rider we have.
Storm always lets me pick the gunner, and I’m grateful for that.
The tail gunner brings up the rear of the pack.
She’s responsible for keeping everyone together, wrangling any stragglers, and watching out for the prospects.
“I was born ready,” Rouge says in answer to my question. She splays out her arms and lifts her face to the sky. “There’s something magical about our first ride.”
I mimic Rouge’s movements, and the sun kisses my face. “Don’t I know it. Looks like the weather’s gonna be kind.”
Rouge pulls on the sleeve of her leather jacket. “I’m dressed in layers. It’s a bit nippy now, but it’s supposed to get a lot warmer.”
I put my arm over her shoulder and lean in since I’m a head taller. “Keep an eye on the prospects.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo, ya know.”
“Sorry. No offense. You know what you’re doing.”
She tilts her head. “Everything all right?”
I’ve gotta watch myself. Paying too much attention to the prospects is sloppy. “Yeah. Just being a mother hen. This’ll be Two’s first big pack ride.”
“Ah, right. I forgot. But One’s got it down.”
“Yeah, but Two is green.” My insides relax. I don’t need anyone to suspect anything. For fuck’s sake. What are they going to suspect? It was one kiss, and we put that back where it belonged.
“Got it.” Rouge purses her lips. “Maybe not my business, but when’s One gonna come up for a vote?”
It’s something I’ve given plenty of thought to. Once Jazmin has her patch, the rules will change. I shrug. “With everything going on, there’s no guarantees.”
“Say no more. It’s just a shame if the prospect gets caught in Frost’s bullshit. She better not stir up shit today.”
Instinctively, I look toward the bikes at the front of the pack and groan. Storm and Frost are standing near their bikes. It appears they’re talking, but their body language says they’d rather be standing next to a rabid raccoon than each other.
“I better get my ass over there.”
“Oh, god, yeah.”
I give Rouge a quick hug. “Keep the rubber side down.”
“You too. Ride hard, ride safe.”
I jog over to Storm, who’s rummaging through her saddlebags. I doubt she’s looking for anything, but it beats talking to Frost. When I put my hand on her shoulder, she flinches and swings around but then smiles when she sees it’s me.
I wink, knowing who she thought had grabbed her. “You ready to call the girls to their bikes?”
“Just about.” Storm fiddles with her helmet. “I can’t get this fucking thing to snap. Sucks that we have to wear one.”
I reach for her helmet, but she pulls back. I recognize my mistake and step back. This thing with Frost has her tripping.
I retreat to my bike, pull on my helmet, and slip on my shades. I check myself in my rearview mirror before I turn back to Storm, who’s sliding her gauntlet gloves up over her forearms. They always make her look badass, which I’m sure is her reason for wearing them.
“Good now?” I ask.
She nods and gives me a smile. “Sorry about that.”
“I get it. Let’s just have a good ride.”
“It always is with you by my side.”
I smile. It’s her way of apologizing, but it’s true, too.
Storm and I have ridden side by side for a long time, starting when we prospected together.
The only exception was when I was road captain while Aces was still president.
I was proud to ride beside Aces, but riding with Storm feels like home.
“Ready to go?” Storm asks.
I nod and follow Storm to the middle of the lot.
“All right, ladies,” Storm yells.
Like good patch sisters, they’re trained to respond to Storm’s voice, and they all quiet.
“First run this season,” Storm says once all eyes are on her. “Let’s make it the best yet.”
A loud cheer fills the air. As Storm launches into her rally speech, I gaze at the motorcycles lined up, and my chest swells.
This is my family. As my eyes sweep over the sea of black vests, my gaze stops on Jazmin.
It’s hard not to notice her. The light hits her sun-streaked locs that spill from under her helmet.
She’s not put on her gloves yet, so the chunky silver rings on her fingers glisten in the sun, drawing my attention to her strong hands.
With her brown-tinted glasses, I can’t tell if she’s looking at me until she smiles and puts her hand against her chest before she lowers two fingers toward the ground.
It’s a classic biker gesture, signifying wheels down, meaning ride safe.
I subtly put my hand against my chest, pretending to scratch it, before I give her the wheels down sign.
Her grin widens as she slips her hands into her gloves. Distracted by Jazmin, I almost miss Storm saying, “The floor’s yours, Captain.”
I recover my bearings as the girls let out a whoop. I flash them a smile, and several chant Dimples.
I shake my head and wave them off. Storm’s already revved them up with her words, so there’s nothing more for me to say. In a formal tone, signifying the importance of the moment, I ask them to mount their bikes.
Storm and I walk to our bikes at the front of the line.
As is Storm’s ritual, she reaches down and touches the tiny guardian bell hanging from the front frame of her bike, and her lips move in a silent prayer.
The bell was a gift from Aces. After Aces’ last ride, knowing she was too ill to ride again, she removed the bell from her bike and handed it to Storm.
It was subtle and solemn. No long speeches. Just an I love you and godspeed.
Once Storm throws her leg over her bike, I follow suit and get on mine.
I pause for a few seconds, feeling the soft breeze on my face, and I say my own silent prayer.
Lord, guide me in keeping my sisters safe on this ride.
Watch over the road before me and behind me.
Keep the rubber side down and the shiny side up. Amen.
“Ladies, fire ’em up,” I call.
I’m greeted by my favorite sound—raw thunder. The whole lot vibrates under the sound, which runs through my soul.
I glance to my left and nod at Storm. She rides in the position of authority, but I’m still the one in charge of the ride.
There’s a hierarchy in the formation. The officers ride in front with the full-patch sisters filling in behind by seniority, while the prospects and tail gunner bring up the rear.
I raise my hand and then drop it. Storm hits the throttle, and I do the same. We roll out of the lot down the treelined road with our pack of sisters behind us. The only thing marring the moment is when I catch a glimpse of Frost’s bike tailing close behind Storm.