Sunny Daze - The saga of a young girl and her involvement with a motorcycle club.
Part I - Published February 2012
(March 2014) It
started out as a refreshingly cool and comfortable morning ride. The
cloudless sky was a deep azure blue and the sun was rising over the
tall span bridge, throwing off blinding light as it collided with the
cold steel tresses. But, the worn copper snap at the neck of Sunny's
jacket suddenly broke and began flapping in the wind allowing the
cold winter air to weasel its way in, slowly seeping through the
layers of clothing beneath. The long sleeved turtleneck covering a
short sleeve t-shirt, a tank top and finally, her undergarments, were
not enough to keep her from getting a chill. The annoying flapping
of the leather and the resultant cold air rushing into her jacket and
through the sleeves, back, and bodice of its liner took her mind off
the beauty of the day, and more importantly the task of riding
safely. She rolled on the throttle and zoomed past her current live
in boyfriend, Memphis. She didn’t see the SUV clearly taking up
the right lane as she made her Interstate exit.
It
was cold, and she just wanted to get to the Waffle House. She had
seen the big black and yellow billboard five miles back when the snap
first broke and the cold first began to permeate her body stealing
the warmth from her very core. Although she was warm enough before
the snap broke, now every part of her body started to suffer from the
exposure. Her hands, inside what she realized too late were too thin
gloves, and her fingers became numb. It felt like hundreds of tiny
needles were piercing her skin. Inside her boots, Sunny wiggled her
toes. No part of her body, it seemed, could escape the encroaching
cold. The wind picked up and came in frequent strong gusts that
slapped her bare face and brought tears to her eyes underneath the
cheap sunglasses adorning her face. She began to shiver all over and
her concentration was on the increasing cold. She stared at the sun,
willing its warmth to rescue her. She knew she had to get off the
highway and find a warm place.
Nearing
the end of the off ramp, Sunny began to slow down but unwittingly
drifted toward the SUV. Behind her, Memphis was yelling, no
screaming at the top of his lungs “Sunny, watch out”, but over
the din of traffic and the whoosh of the wind, she couldn’t hear a
thing. In the nick of time, she turned her head over her right
shoulder and saw a big blob of white ascending upon her, only inches
from turning her Harley into a tangled piece of metal and her body
into a wretched mass of torn ligaments and broken bones. Skill and
probably a little luck gave her the foresight to swiftly swerve back
into her own lane and avoid the imminent collision. Sunny pulled
into the waffle house and before she could back into a parking slot
and put the kick stand down, Memphis was standing over her. “What
were you thinking, Daze?” You know you could have been killed!
That was such a dumb thing to do. You simply shouldn’t be riding
your own bike!” Memphis continued to chastise her. “One of
these days you’ll find yourself strewn all over the highway. You
know that don’t you? Are you listening to me?” He kept on and
on. She knew he was mad, no livid, when he first opened his mouth
and addressed her as Daze because he only used her biker name when he
was really angry. He didn’t think she deserved a biker name.
After all, she was just a chick, just property, and she certainly
didn’t have the same privileges as the men who rode. She knew he
took a lot of heat from the guys in the Club because of her riding
her own Harley, and they constantly chided and teased him that he
couldn’t control his woman. He wasn’t happy about it when first
she got a motorcycle and then a license to ride it.
Sunnny
could visibly see his blood pressure rising when he yanked the fabric
of her jacket near her shoulder with his right hand, and twisted it
as he pulled her closer. She stumbled as he dragged her off the
motorcycle. She could feel the spittle he was spewing as his volume
increased and his anger elevated. She was silently berating
herself. She knew what he was saying was true. But, it’s not like
she did it intentionally. And, everything is OK Nobody’s hurt,
right, she thought? Except, of course, she was going to be hurting
soon, hurting so much, in fact, that she’d probably be wishing she
had collided with the SUV. She just hung her head and murmured “I
know, I’m sorry Babe.” He lifted her chin with his left hand and
cupped her face as he drew her nearer. Inches from his face, she
could smell the stale coffee and cigarettes and the lingering whiskey
from last night. He continued “I can’t believe you almost
screwed up my trip ...”, but, fortunately for Sunny, he was
interrupted by the annoying beep beep sound of his cell phone as its
ringtone alerted him that Probate was calling. Charlie couldn’t go
anywhere without his coveted cell phone. Sunny hated it more than
anything, but this time, she was thankful for it, as he slid the
screen to open the application and answered the call. “What?”
“This better be good”, he grumbled. Thankfully he now had
someone else to channel his anger towards. At least he wasn’t
screaming in her face any more, but she did feel just a little bit
sorry for the Probate on the other end of the line. And, she knew it
was not over yet. He wasn’t through with her. He would get back
to her later. She knew that she was going to pay dearly for this
mistake. Memphis never forgot it when she screwed up, especially
when it concerned her riding the motorcycle. He would use it as a
chance to say “I told you so”, and he would once again take the
opportunity to tell her how women don’t belong on their own bikes.
He would throw her up against the wall and repeatedly punch her in
the face. And to punish her, when he’s done with the beating, and
her exhausted, bloody and bruised body is sore and aching, he’ll
drag her by her long hair and take her to the back room of the
clubhouse where he’ll watch as he forces her to have sex with one
of his other girlfriends. She knows the scenario all too well and is
dreading it.
The
telephone conversation is not doing a thing for his blood pressure.
As he paces the tiny Waffle House parking lot, a steady stream of
cuss words are exiting his mouth like angry wasps flying out of a
nest that has just been sprayed with pesticides. Sunny can see a
thick, bulging, blood filled vein running up his neck and behind his
ear. He has the phone cupped closely as he speaks loud and clear,
“You’ve got to be kidding me. How did this happen? I can’t
leave you alone for one single day, can I? O. K. I’ll be there, it
will take a couple of hours. I’ve got Sunny with me, and she just
about steered directly into traffic. That girl really shook me up.
She shouldn’t be riding her own bike. Maybe I can convince her of
that this time.” His laugh was evil. If she had any doubt before,
she didn’t any more. She was going to pay. But, it would have to
be delayed until he took care of whatever was happening at the
Clubhouse.
___________________________________________
(July 1985)
Deidre
had been beaten for the last time.
It
didn’t matter to Charlie that she was nine months pregnant. She
didn’t have his dinner on the table when he got home. It was
going to be a long night in the Cash house.
He
walked in the door, threw his grease laden Carhart jacket on the
chair just inside and hollered “Deidre, where’s chow?” He
walked to the refrigerator and took out a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon,
(PBR), beer. In just a few thirsty gulps it was gone. He crushed
the can and threw it in the sink. Charlie popped the top on a second
beer, took a swig and set the can on the old, grey, stained Formica
kitchen table. It’s edges were curling up and the wide strip of
aluminum was dangling, long ago separated from the frame. He picked
up the newspaper she had been reading and saw the red penned circles
around the Help Wanted Classified ads. One for a maid, another for a
helper at an old geezers home, and yet another for a secretary. He
snickered, “that girl ain’t got a brain in her head, and she
thinks she can do the job of a secretary”. His laugh was deep and
scary as it resounded off the walls of the tiny trailer. He reached
for the bottle of Tennessee whiskey and began to sing off key the
Derek Trucks Band song,
“I
ain’t seen no blues whiskey made me sloppy drunkI
aint's had no whiskey, the blues made me sloppy drunk”
He
brought the bottle to his mouth and stopped just short of a swig
“Deidre, get out here. I’m a hungry man, been workin’ all day.
DEIDRE! And, he lifted the bottle to his lips and drew a long
swallow. And, he sang:
“I
ain't seen no blues whiskey made me sloppy drunk...
Exhausted,
he sat down at the junk laden table. There were newspapers and
magazines, overflowing ashtrays, dirty napkins and balled up snot
rags. There were cookie crumbs and spilled milk. “And she thinks
she can be a maid”, Charlie chuckled out loud.
He
turned on the evening news. It was July, 1985 and the chairman of
Coca Cola was on the screen proclaiming “We at Coca Cola Care”,
and waving a white flag. He was there to announce that the company
would listen to its customers. New Coke was not successful and the
company was going back to the original, 99 year old Coke recipe and
would rename it Coca Cola Classic. Next Charlie watched the news
stories: “Man found dead in a canyon in Anaheim”, “An employee
stabbed in a store robbery”, and “Two die when plane crashes on a
New York golf course in the fog”. He thumbed through the newspaper
and read the headline: “Reagan’s tax plan brings legislatures
into uneasy alliance”. “What is the world coming to”, he
mumbled, and got up and changed the channel to a rerun of Archie
Bunker in “All
in the Family”.
As he watched, Charlie drank his whiskey and went through a six pack
of PBR. He nibbled on stale cookies left over from the July 4th
weekend. Deidre had baked them and taken them to the Clubhouse, but
they were hard and horrible tasting, so she brought most of them back
uneaten. He had almost forgotten that he was mad at her for not
fixing him dinner until he heard Archie on the TV holler “Edith,
Eeeediiiiith, get down here”. He turned and looked down the
hallway at the closed door. Like Archie, he hollered, “Deidre,
Deeeeiiiidra”. No answer. Again, “Deeeeiiiidra”. Still no
answer. He swigged back the half empty bottle of whiskey, slammed it
down and placing both hands on the table to lift his heavy body off
the chair, he stood, a bit unsteady, but on his feet. He stumbled
down the hallway first bouncing off one wall, then the other, and
almost passed the bathroom, but when he saw the open door, he decided
to make a detour.
He
placed a hand on the wall to steady himself as he fumbled with his
zipper. With his head and eyes rolled back, he stumbled and nearly
fell as his urine streamed on the wall in front of him, completely
missing the toilet bowl. He sauntered and regained his position.
Charlie didn’t bother to pull his zipper up. He was going to see
his Deidre. Switching to a popular Ricky Skaggs tune, he sang:
“Honey,
honey, honey won’t you open that door,This
is your sweet daddy, don’t you love me no more?”
He
continued to the end of the hallway and opened the door. Deidre was
asleep on the bed, dressed in an old cotton gown and snoring lightly.
On her side, her arm cradled the baby in her womb. Charlie would be
glad when she had the kid; it wasn’t easy for a big man like him to
crawl on top of her and have his way. But, he would sure give it a
try. He stripped himself of his clothes and went to the bed where
she was. He moved her arm, and she woke up. “Hey Baby, Sweet
Daddy’s home”, he slurred. She opened her eyes and looked at
him. She wasn’t sure what time it was or how long she had been
sleeping, but as she woke, she realized the back pains that had sent
her to the bed in the first place were still lingering. Charlie
lifted her gown and said “What you got under there Baby?” The
last thing she wanted was to have sex with him, but she could smell
the whiskey on his breath, and knew to fight him would be futile, and
she just didn’t have the energy. She had been searching all day
for a job so after the baby was born she could hide away a little
money and leave Charlie for good. She was so big in the belly that
she couldn’t bend over to tie her shoes, she couldn’t sweep the
floor because she would be out of breath in a minute from the
exertion, and she didn’t want to clean this old trailer house,
anyway. She just wanted to have the baby, and go home to Shreveport.
Charlie
pushed her over on her back and crawled on top of her. He lifted her
gown above the bulging baby and had his way with her while she lay
there trembling. When he was finished, he crawled out of bed, pulled
on his jeans, and picked a cigarette up off the night stand. He
pulled his Zippo out of his pocket and said to her “You been
smoking again? Where’d you get these here cigarettes Girly? You
know that ain’t good for the boy.” And, with that, he slapped
her across the face. Deidre screamed and he hit her again. As she
whimpered, he rubbed her belly and said “it’s alright baby, you
gonna give me a son, ain’t you? There ain’t no girl in there, is
there? There better not be; that’s all I can say. Cause if it’s
a lazy, no good girl like you are, Deidre, I’ll throw you out;
that’s for sure. It probably ain’t my baby no ways. You
probably been sleepin' with the mail man, or that Negro next door.
You been sleepin' with a Negro?” Deidre shook her head back and
forth, “no, Charlie I ain’t been sleepin' with nobody but you.”
“Liar,
Liar!” You shouldn’t lie to me. And he slapped her again.
“You’re hurting me Charlie. Stop it, Please just stop it”,
she said. She pushed herself up with her feet and leaned against the
headboard as he came after her. She was afraid he was going to kill
her. The blows kept coming. Then he grabbed her head in his hands
and kissed her sloppily. She was hurt, scared and confused when she
reached over on the night stand, grabbed the cold, hard handle of the
gun and brought it to the side of his head. She heard him gasp, and
say “no”, but Deidre pulled the trigger. It was louder than she
expected. But, it did its job. It stopped him. He fell silent on
top of her. She dropped the gun and just laid there. Finally she
garnered the strength to roll his body off of her and scooted out
from under him. She left him face down on the bed, his blood soaking
the sheets and forming a puddle. She went to the window and
nervously peered out to see if anyone was stirring. The light was
out in the farmhouse down the road, the only occupant an old man who
went to bed early. There were no other neighbors to hear the gunshot
or witness the horror that had taken place.
Deidre
grabbed her whits and jumped into action. She knew she didn’t have
much time. She would gather her things and go to the bus station.
She would leave town and be gone before they found him. She threw on
some jeans and an old t-shirt. She hurriedly packed a suitcase.
And, then it came. A sharp pain that bent her over and almost
brought her to her knees. “Not now”, she cried, and the pain
left almost as quickly as it came. “Whew”, she said, as she
wiped her forehead. Deidre slammed the suitcase shut and grabbed her
purse off the dresser. She turned and fished through Charlie’s
pants. She reached in the back pocket and retrieved his wallet.
Lucky for her, it was Friday night, and he had just gotten paid. She
knew he stopped at the liquor store to cash his check and buy
cigarettes and booze. But, the rest of the paycheck was there. She
counted the money, $263. That would get her out of town, she
thought. She stashed the wallet in her purse, left the room, slammed
the door, and went down the hallway he had come through just fifteen
minutes ago. Not stopping, she picked up the keys off the table,
slipped on her shoes that she had flung off by the door, and left the
little trailer for the last time.
The
greyhound station was in a frenzy. Nashville was always a hub of
activity. There must have been 100 people in the station, all
looking to get out of town. And, there were the ones who had just
arrived in Nashville, hoping to catch a record deal or get a gig
somewhere working as a paid musician. Most would end up on the
streets, or working minimum wage jobs. Some would find themselves
back on the Greyhound heading home after a failed attempt to break
into the music industry. A few adventurous ones would leave
Nashville and try their luck in Memphis or head west to Hollywood to
claim their fame and fortune. Deidre approached the ticket counter
and stood in a line with no less than ten people in front of her.
She knew she had no choice but to go back to her Pentacostal Mama in
Louisiana. She had only been gone a year, and her Mama didn't know
about Charlie or the pregnancy. Deidre would be surprising her, that
was for certain. Shreveport was home, after all. She convinced
herself it wouldn’t be so bad. Her mama would know what to do.
Her mama would forgive her for running away at just 17. Her mama
would take care of her and the baby, she was convinced.
Standing
in line, another pain gripped her and bent her over again. It lasted
longer this time, but when it was gone, she breathed deeply and
stepped up to the ticket counter. She asked for a ticket to
Shreveport. The attendant asked her when she was due, and she
answered “next month”. “Are you sure about that honey? You
look like you’re ready to pop any time.” “No, I’m not due
until August 10th.” “Okay, honey, Shreveport, you say?”
Deidre breathed a sigh of relief. She knew the attendant wouldn’t
let her get on that bus if she were in labor. And, she thought she
might be, but she couldn’t be sure. This was her first child,
after all. She had some pains last week, and it was nothing. Maybe
this was just false labor too, intensified by the stress. She just
hoped she could make the 12 hour trip home to Shreveport. It would
only be 9 hours in a car, she thought, but these Greyhounds stop at
every small town.
-------------------------------
Part II Published April 2012
(July
1985)Deidre
had been on the bus now for almost six hours and she was exhausted,
both emotionally and physically. The recent murderous scene kept
replaying in her head. She still couldn’t believe she had actually
killed her Charlie; sure he deserved it, but still she had once loved
him, and she missed the man who had swept her off her feet, the man
whom she had fallen in love with a year ago when she had arrived in
Nashville. After only three short months of a whirlwind romance,
they stood at the Justice of Peace, and exchanged vows, the baby
already growing inside her body. Things had gone down hill fast
since then. The beatings started soon after her pregnancy was
revealed and they grew more intense as her belly ripened with his
baby. It was as though he didn’t want the baby to be born. He
told her she was ugly and undesirable. He called her stupid and
lazy. Still, Deidre hadn’t planned to kill him. But, she had no
choice. It was self defense, after all. But, the courts wouldn’t
see it that way, she was certain. She knew she was in a lot of
trouble, but at least she felt safe – he wouldn’t be hurting her
anymore, or anyone else for that matter. And, her baby was safe, too.
She
was just nodding off for a well deserved respite from the thoughts
racing through her head when the Greyhound screeched to a sudden stop
and she was jolted awake. Simultaneously a sharp pain raced
alongside her lower back and crept across her large belly, a reminder
that the baby could be born at any time. “If only she could make
it home to Shreveport and her Mama, everything would be okay”, she
thought. But that was not to be. The bus had arrived at the Memphis
station, and the bright streetlights blinded her as she wiped the
sleep from her eyes. The people around her were gathering their
belongings, in a great hurry to get out and meet loved ones at their
final destination, switch buses, or just stretch their legs before
re-boarding. Deidre thought about staying right where she was, but
she needed to use the rest room, and the tiny bus toilet was not as
desirable as a large ladies room she was sure she would find inside
the station. Deidre picked up her purse, and after everyone had
left, she hoisted herself out of the seat with great effort and
leaned on the backs of each seat in front of her as she made her way
down the aisle and the pain racked her body. She inched slowly
towards the front of the bus, struggling at the door and the steps to
exit. With one foot on the bottom step and the other on the
pavement, she had almost made it. Then she heard the sirens and
looked up and saw the red and blue lights as the police cars
surrounded her. Time slowed as she stood frozen and watched the
officers exit their cars in succession in full gear with weapons
pulled. Some officers cleared the loading dock, while others rushed
toward her. She stared into the eyes of the officer in front of her,
the one who was standing spread eagle, gun hoisted and finger on the
trigger, ready to shoot. She heard him shout “put your hands up,
now”. But, she couldn’t move. She breathed deeply as she
doubled over with the pain that racked her body and she watched as
the officer lowered his gun and stepped toward her, now with concern.
He holstered his weapon and reached for her. The world became a
blur and all the noise stopped as the scene faded from her vision,
her knees buckled, and the last thing she remembered was his big arms
wrapped around her, keeping her from hitting the ground, and the warm
fluid running down her legs indicating that her water had broken.
She was going to have the baby at the worst possible time. And then
she lost consciousness.
Deidre
slowly opened her eyes and didn’t like what she was seeing. She
closed them in an effort to make it all go away, but it didn’t
work. Even with her eyes squeezed shut tightly, she could see the
hospital room, the stark white walls with a small television mounted
in a corner. It was a private room; one that she would not have
otherwise warranted considering her lack of insurance. There was a
uniformed Memphis Police Officer sitting in a chair watching the
afternoon news and eating a cheeseburger, two-fisted, the grease
running down his arms and into his sleeves. The scene prompted her
to flash back to the events of last night, first where she had killed
her husband, and then where she had passed out in the arms of the
officer. She remembered stopping in Memphis, but didn’t remember
much else. “The baby”, she thought, and with a desperate, uneasy
feeling she reached to her stomach. It was flat, evidence that the
baby had been born. Scared and feeling all alone Deidre opened her
eyes once again, just as the door to her room opened. It was filled
with a heavy set, but pleasant looking black woman, in her mid 30’s
pushing a small cart. She had a round face and a gold tooth
sparkling in the early morning light. “Good Morning there Sweety.
John, get your feet down, go outside”, she said to the officer as
he responded with a salute “yes Ma’am”, and he slapped her ass
on the way out the door. “Never mind him, honey. He looks tough,
but he’s just a teddy bear. I’m a gonna marry that man one day.
But don’t you go telling him, now. White men don’t marry black
women; not in the South noways. My name’s Miss Tomeka. Now, tell
me, how did you get yourself in this predicament? He beat you, I
heard. You got quite a few nasty cuts and bruises there.” And she
whispered, “I woulda kilt him too, ain’t no man gonna beat this
woman, no siree. Never mind, lookey here what I got.” And she
reached inside the cart and lifted out a beautiful baby boy and
placed him in Deidre’s arms. For a moment nothing else mattered.
Deidre looked into the eyes of the tiny baby, as he wrapped his hand
around her index finger. She noticed the thick blonde hair and round
blue eyes with dark lashes that would make a Vegas dancer writhe with
jealousy. His skin was smooth and clean and he smelled like baby
powder. She instantly fell in love. “What you gonna call him”,
Tomeka asked as she pulled out her pen and clipboard. “You gotta
decide now so we can finish up this here paperwork. We don’t want
no baby without a name. What will all the other babies in the
nursery think”, she chuckled. “Uh, uh”, Deidre stuttered.
“We’re in Memphis right? I’ll call him Memphis, then.” And,
Tomeka said “Shucks, why you gonna go and do that, Miss Deidre?
Give that boy a real name.” “I’ll call him Memphis Charlie
Cash; Charlie, after his father, Charles. Memphis Charlie Cash,
how’s that sound, Miss Tomeka? You can call him Charlie if you
want. I’ll call him Memphis.” Tomeka snickered, “alrighty
then, have it your way. Memphis Charlie Cash it is”, and, shaking
her head in disapproval, she wrote it down. “Now honey, I got to
take him back. Miss Tameka’s so sorry. Give him a kiss, and say
goodbye, now. I promise he’ll be taken care of – a good foster
family is already waiting.” She winked, and Deidre wasn’t quite
sure what that was all about. “You don’t give up, now. You
fight to get him back.” A tear rolled down Deidre’s face, and
then she began to sob uncontrollably as Tameka took the baby from
her. It felt as though her heart were breaking in two. “I’m
sorry, honey, so very sorry”, Tameka said as she placed the
recently named, Memphis Charlie Cash, in the cart and rolled him
toward the door, wiping a tear from her own eyes. She looked back
and said “The doctor will be in soon. He’s going to release you,
and John will escort you to the jailhouse. Oh my, honey, what you
gone and done? Got yourself in a big fix here, didn’t you? It
will be O.K. You just say your prayers to the Good Lord. He’s
lookin after you, you know. Yes siree, he sent Miss Tameka to help
you. I got me a brother; his name’s Dwight. You’ll meet him.
He’s a high falutin lawyer in West Memphis. I gonna give him a
call and tell him to git on down to that jailhouse and give you some
help. He’s a good man, and he’ll do what his big sista says. Oh
Praise the Lord.” And she exited the room leaving silence from her
constant talking and leaving Deidra alone to mourn. -------------------------------
(March
2014) The Prospect ran into the the water company, just before
closing time, to pay his bill before the cut off date. His water had
been disconnected last month, and he had learned his lesson. On the
way out of the building, Prospect looked at the Homer Courthouse
across the street and noticed the workers rolling out new sod. He
strolled to his motorcycle parked in the square, and studied the size
of each roll. His mind was calculating a plan and once finalized, he
jumped on the bike and hurried home to get the pick up truck and a
couple of accomplices. It was a short ride, but he enjoyed it,
nonetheless. He giggled to himself as the wind slapped his face. He
was going to steal the grass and surprise Ringo when he returned from
Vicksburg.
Memphis,
road name Ringo, and Shank, his Sergeant At Arms, roared into the
gates of the clubhouse. The long ride had only served to fuel the
President’s anger as he thought about Sunny and her near mishap and
the Prospect, and his escapade. He had expected to stay in Vicksburg
for the entire weekend. It was a celebration of the patch over of
Hell’s Prospects MC, Vicksburg Chapter to the Rebel Horsemen MC.
But instead, he and Sunny had arrived on Friday afternoon, and spent
a couple of hours in the Casino, before meeting up with Shank and
riding to the party at the Vicksburg clubhouse. There they handed
out the new patches. They had been carefully designed when the club
was formed in 1973. The center patch was in the shape of a Route 66
sign in black with silver lettering that read Mississippi, and a
silver and black rebel flag was prominent underneath. The top rocker
read Rebel Horsemen also in a silver font on a black background and
framed in a silver border. The bottom rocker simply read “Motorcycle
Club”. They also handed out rib rockers that displayed the
“Vicksburg” territory and a 1% patch in silver and black.
Normally the bottom rocker would read the State or City that the club
claims as their territory. But, in defiance of the bigger clubs,
they chose to use the center patch to display their state, with the
rib rocker defining the city of the chapter in that state. The
Rebel Horsemen were now in three foreign countries and all 13 of the
original confederate states. Mississippi was a great victory as it
was the last of the Hell’s Prospect hold out states. There are
still Hell’s Prospect chapters in Mississippi, and they are blood
enemies, but the Rebel Horsemen now have a foothold.
Spook,
the Rebel Horsemen’s War Lord was there. He had been escorted down
by the El Dorado Chapter. Spook sits at the head of the War Council
which is comprised of the Sergeant At Arms of all US chapters, who
meet quarterly. Spook is the most powerful and dangerous man in the
whole of the Rebel Horsemen, and even Memphis has a deep seated fear
of his capabilities, yet a deep respect of his history as their
leader. Spook served three tours in Vietnam as a Marine sniper, and
later as a member of Black Ops. Shortly after he returned in 1970,
his father died and left him a trailer house, a beat up pick up truck
and a shiny 1968 Shovelhead. Spook had a hard time returning to
civilian life. He lived in a time when the Vietnam veterans
returning to American soil were spit upon and called baby killers and
murderers. He was always in trouble with the law, and it was a
natural progression for him to join the local motorcycle club. When
the Sgt At Arms was killed by a Hell’s Prospect, Spook was given
that position.
In
1973 the Hell’s Prospects Motorcycle Club was spreading like a
plague throughout the south forcing small clubs out of existence or
into servitude as support clubs. But 13 small clubs in the
Ark-La-Tex each sent their Sgt At Arms to a secret meeting to
determine how to fight the menace. Realizing they couldn’t win as
independent clubs, they decided to unite under one patch, one club.
They went back to their individual clubs where the idea was quickly
ratified by all the clubs and their members. They were relying on
strength in numbers; 13 clubs working as one. And, the Rebel
Horsemen and the war council were born. The war council was, and
still is comprised of the Sgt At Arms of each chapter of the
Horsemen. Because of his formidable presence and black ops
experience, Spook was voted unanimously as their leader and given the
title of War Lord of the council, which he still holds today. In
yet another act of defiance, the original 13 clubs in the Ark-La-Tex
all wear “Ark-La-Tex” in the top part of the center patch,
claiming an unprecedented territory comprising parts of 3 states or
the entire Ark-La-Tex as their territory. Spook is the most powerful
man in the organization, more powerful than even the National
President. He, along with the war council decides when they go to
war and with whom. Spook is also the sole survivor of the original
13 Sergeant At Arms. The other 12 were all laid to rest after losing
ferocious battles protecting the club and its territories. Their
pictures grace the walls of every chapter clubhouse world wide with
the words “Blood Brothers” inscribed above their photos.
The
party that night was nothing less than debauchery as they celebrated
the first chapter in Mississippi, a great accomplishment that brought
a chapter of a rival club into the Horsemen brotherhood. Worn out
and hung over, Ringo’s anger was fueled when first Sunny nearly
slammed into the SUV, and then he got the call from his Prospect. It
was obvious he was still fuming by the way he screeched into the
parking lot, spun the rear tire and threw gravel and dirt as he came
to a stop. Members of the Shreveport Rebel Horsemen MC met him,
and the Prospect stood ready to take his helmet, gloves, and whatever
gear he threw into his hands. But at the sight of the Prospect,
Ringo grew even angrier. He put the kickstand down and placed his
helmet on the foot peg. It was only seconds before he was face to
face with the Prospect. “Jesus Christ, Prospect? You think you
can go around stealing from a small town? Did I tell you I wanted
grass? No. Why? Because it would bring the cops to the Clubhouse,
that’s why”, he spat. “You thought you wouldn’t get caught.
You think they wouldn’t miss it? You’re lucky Nosey bailed you
out. I would have left you there. Get in the house.” And he
shoved him. Ringo’s blood pressure continued to rise. His eyes
turned a steel gray when the Prospect shrugged his shoulders and
answered “I did it for you, Ringo”. And that only renewed his
anger. He shoved the Prospect hard, this time. The prospect
stumbled and fell to the ground. He shuffled his feet in the gravel,
and pushed himself backward away from Ringo’s fury. Finally, he
managed to bring himself upright and got to his feet. The prospect
turned and scurried into the clubhouse with Ringo close on his heels.
“Get over here. Don’t run from me.” Inside the clubhouse,
Ringo grabbed the back of the Prospect’s cut. “You don’t
deserve to wear this”, he said as he literally lifted the man with
his right hand, cleared the table in front of him with his left, and
shoved the Prospect onto the table top. Next Ringo surprised the
other club members, the Prospect and even himself when he pulled the
shiny blade from his boot and held it to the prospect’s throat.
“You don’t deserve to be a Horseman”, he said. “See those
pictures on the wall. Those were Horsemen. They fought and died for
this club.” The blade was cutting into the prospect’s skin and
blood was trickling around to the back of his neck. The little
prospect who was normally even tempered and subdued showed another
side this day. He looked at Ringo and shouted, “I don’t deserve
to be a Horseman?” “Really? Then I’ll at least die like a
Horseman. Cut me, Ringo, go ahead, cut me.” With that Ringo’s
steel gray eyes changed colors back to the baby blues he was born
with. His mood changed as all of the built up anger instantly
drained from him, and he released his hold on the knife. He wiped
the blood off on the Prospect’s vest, and returned it to its
holder. He respected the Prospect’s loyalty and willingness to die
for the black and silver. And, when he thought about, it was pretty
funny. He picked the prospect up off the table and hugged him tight.
The tiny prospect’s feet were dangling. Ringo was laughing like a
madman, turning in circles and jumping up and down with the prospect
held tightly in his arms. He set him down and kissed him on the
forehead. “Okay then Prospect. You can live to see another day.
I guess if you’re willing to die like a Horseman, one day you just
might be a Horseman. Come on, let’s get a beer.” He set him
down and pushed him towards the round table in the far corner of the
room, a sort of Stamtisch, the kind used in German culture and
reserved only for the best and most special guests. For a prospect
to sit at Ringo’s “Stamtisch” was an honor, indeed.
It
was great timing for Sunny. It was at the very moment they sat at
the Stamtisch that she walked through the door of the clubhouse.
Memphis’ anger had been spent on the Prospect, and she would not
bear his wrath tonight. The mistake she had made in Vicksburg was
all but forgotten. Memphis looked up as her slender body framed the
doorway. With the sunlight behind her casting a bright light across
her body, Memphis thought she looked like an angel. He said that
with her long blonde hair flowing across her shoulders and a smile
that could light up the world, she was a beauty to behold. Sunny
adored him and loved getting compliments from him. “Sunny, come
here. I got to tell you what this here prospect did”, Memphis said
excitedly. “They put down new sod at the courthouse in Homer
yesterday. Prospect here thought it would be a good idea to steal
the sod and put it down here in front of our clubhouse. He ain’t
too smart, now is he?” And, Memphis laughed a hearty laugh. “But,
he’s got balls. I tell you, he’s got big hairy balls!”
Memphis raised his beer to the Prospect and said “yep, you got big
balls, boy. Cheers”, he said. “Drinks for everyone. We’re
going to have a party in here tonight. Might as well. Lost two
grand on the poker tables last night. Sunny, you and Prospect here
just may have saved me from losing on the tables again tonight. Too
bad you had to ride home alone. You could have been on the back of
the bike with me. But, no, you have to spite me and ride your own.”
And, Sunny was reminded that although he was in a good mood, he had
indeed, not forgotten her mishap. She ignored his comment and used
her sexuality to distract him, a proven tactic to delay the
inevitable. She sauntered toward Memphis, and he couldn’t resist
her allure. He pulled her into his arms and gave her a long, drawn
out kiss, his tongue exciting her so much that she wanted nothing
more than to make love to him. As he held her, she forgave Memphis
his transgressions because deep inside she knew he was a decent man.
And, she knew how hard it must have been in his early years after his mother had gone to prison for killing
his father. But, thank God for Tameka and John. They had raised
Memphis in his early years, and had taught him morals and values;
even took him to church. And when Deidre was released from prison, they helped them get set up in Shreveport, and stayed in touch throughout the years, always a positive influence in his life. Although he lives the life of an outlaw
now, Sunny knew those early teachings had to be there somewhere, deep
inside. Yet, Memphis was so sad, and so angry. Each time he beat
her, Sunny forgave him with all her heart and soul. She was glad
that he was currently distracted and in a good mood. This was the
Memphis she had fallen in love with. Tonight they would drink and
have fun at the clubhouse. He had spent his anger and would have
nothing but love and kindness and soft touches for her when he took
her in his arms later this evening and caressed the scars that he,
himself had placed upon her body. He would kiss each bruise and tell
her he was sorry, that he didn’t mean to hurt her. He would
justify it by placing the blame on her, telling her she’s got to
understand, she’s got to do right. And, he would plead with her to
sell her motorcycle. That, however, was Sunny’s one possession
that she would never part with. It was only when she was riding,
that she had a carefree existence, that nothing else mattered; she
was one with the world. She would try to explain it to him, and he
would understand, but he still wouldn’t like it. He wanted her on
the back of his bike. He wanted her to embrace the position of “Old
Lady” and accept that history and unspoken protocol dictated that
she act a certain way. Sunny was blazing unchartered territory. She
was causing him grief and anguish within the club. But, he loved
her. In the only way he knew how, he loved her.
(March
2013)The
three girls, Sunny, Autumn and Rhonda, were hanging out at the
Skating Rink in Bossier City. They were excited because they were
going to meet up with the motorcycle club. They were young girls
fascinated and giddy with the MC lifestyle and its bad boy image.
Sunny’s daddy was a military man. He was a Captain at Barksdale
Air Force Base, and worked long hours as a chaplain. He would like
to keep a tight reign on his three children, all of them girls, but
it was hard. He wasn’t home much and had deployed three times to
the Middle East in the last four years, leaving their mother to look
after them. It wasn’t working out too well and he didn’t know
what to do, except to pray. His girls were promiscuous, deceitful,
and wild, and their mother, Anne, couldn’t control them. She was
so deep inside the bottle of booze and the pills, that he didn’t
know if she would ever recover. His youngest child, Rain, got
pregnant at 15, and had made him a grandfather just last year. Her
and the baby were living at home. At least she was straightening out
her life, going to classes to get her GED and working at a Sonic
Drive In restaurant at night to raise the baby, Little Eon, the only
bright spot in Smitty’s life. His middle child, Autumn, was 16 and
already sneaking out the window at night to meet boys. He could
smell the cigarettes, booze and marijuana on her clothes when she
sneaked back in at night. And, Sunny, the oldest at 17 was hanging
out with bikers, and taking Autumn along for the ride. They were
headed for certain disaster, he knew. At this rate, he thought, even
his career might be on the line. It wasn’t appropriate for an
officer, especially a Chaplain, to have families riddled with drugs,
alcohol and crime, but that’s what Smitty’s world was like, and
all he could do was pray for divine intervention. Smitty was home
holding Eon in his arms and watching Sponge Bob on the Cartoon
Network when the girls left for the skating rink. Rain was upstairs
studying for the GED, and Anne was passed out on the bed in the
upstairs bedroom, an empty bottle of wine beside her. “Be careful,
girls”, he said. “I love you, and I don’t want anything bad
happening to you. You stay at the rink, you hear me, and be home by
midnight.” He knew that was probably not going to happen, but he
felt it was at least his duty to give a curfew.
From
the first time Sunny met Rhonda, two years ago, they became great
friends. Rhonda’s Daddy was an enlisted man who was stationed at
Barksdale, too. The girls had something in common; father’s who
deployed and left them home alone with their mothers, and fathers who
dragged them all over the world as new assignments came up. Both
Rhonda and Sunny were determined that they would never move again.
The heartache of leaving close friends and moving to new schools was
just too much to bear anymore. They were BFF’s and promised to
always stick together. They both had access to the base, and they
would often drive on there when they were supposed to be at the
skating rink, and hang out at the dormitories. That’s where they
met Prospect. He was a young airman, just 20 years old, and made a
living working on the B-52’s. His real name was Tommy Owens, and
Sunny and Rhonda were glad to get attention from an older boy. Both
of their fathers had warned them to stay away from the dorms, but
they didn’t listen. They had invited Tommy to the rink and now
they were hanging out with real bikers.
Autumn,
Rhonda, Sunny and Tommy were standing out back of the rink, passing
around a joint, admiring Tommy’s bike when two motorcycles pulled
up. They were friends of Tommy, the Prospect, and were patched
members of the Rebel Horsemen. Fat Boy and Nosey were introduced.
They both came by their biker names honestly. Fat Boy was a big man
in his late 20’s, with a full beard, and a large, round belly, and
Nosey had a nose that would put Pinnocchio to shame. Autumn
immediately hooked up with Nosey and Rhonda with Fatboy, so that left
Sunny with Tommy. She wasn’t really attracted to the scrawny type,
but she did like the motorcycle, and she was first to ask “Tommy,
how about you take me for a ride?” Tommy agreed and pulled a
helmet out of his saddlebags for her. He said “There’s a party
at the clubhouse. Let’s go.” Rhonda decided to leave the car at
the skating rink and the girls all got on the back of the bikes.
Racing down I-20 through Shreveport was exhilarating. The boys were
showing off and riding two, then three abreast. They were racing and
romping on the throttle, hitting speeds of 100 mph as they neared
Minden where the clubhouse was located. They got to the clubhouse
where there was plenty of beer and alcohol, marijuana and other
drugs. The music was loud, and the girls were dancing and having a
great time. Autumn and Nosey and Rhonda and Fatboy all disappeared
into a back room. Tommy started hitting on a long legged brunette,
and was ignoring Sunny. Not too happy, Sunny went in search of the
other girls. She opened the door and saw Rhonda having sex with both
men. Autumn was dancing and singing for them all while this was
happening. Nosey looked at her and said “Come on in Sweety, you’re
next.” Disgusted, Sunny closed the door and turned down the
hallway. That’s when she ran into Memphis. He had deep blue eyes
and thick, blonde hair. The patch on his vest said “Ringo”.
Sunny was dazzled with the big smile that spread across his face.
“Hey, Sweetheart”, he said, “you lost?” She was almost
speechless, and the 17 year old, Sunny was in love for the first
time. It was love at first sight. She looked up and smiled, “I’m
not lost, I’m Sunny”, she said and stuck out her hand to shake
his. “You sure are, Honey, that smile and hair, it’s like a Sunny
Day.” He wanted her and she wanted him in a real bad way. “Who
brought you to the clubhouse?”, he asked. “Tommy”, she
replied. “You can’t hang with him. He’s only a prospect. I,
on the other hand, am the President. And, you can hang with me. You
want to be my girl?” “Sure”, she stammered, and he took her by
the hand and backed her into an empty bedroom. There he kissed her
and stroked her hair. As he was unbuttoning her blouse, he cupped
her chin and looked into her eyes. “How old are you Sunny?” When
she answered “17”, he backed away from her. “Prospect”, he
screamed as he turned on his heels and left the room. “Prospect,
get over here”, what are you thinking, bringing underage girls to
the clubhouse?” He walked down the hallway, opening doors, looking
for Prospect and instead, found the group of four in the throes of
passion when he opened the door where their sexual escapades were
taking place. “I’m going to kick every one of your asses. Get
these girls out of here, now”, and he stormed out. Prospect, in
the corner kissing the brunette had turned and looked at the scene
when he heard all the ruckus. “I got to take care of this”, he
told the brunette. The Prospect grabbed Sunny by the arm and said
“we gotta go, NOW”. The six left the clubhouse while Ringo
slammed down a beer at the Stamtisch. “Hurry, get on”, hollered
Nosey as Autumn scrambled on the back. With Prospect and Sunny
behind them, and Rhonda and Fatboy taking up the rear, they screeched
out of the gravel filled parking lot. Fatboy hit a piece of gravel
and the bike went down. Nobody was hurt, but Fatboy was cussing as
he picked up the motorcycle, and Rhonda was swearing too, as she
dusted off her scraped hands and wiped the blood on her blue jeans.
She scrambled back on the bike, and they took off. They saw Ringo in
the mirror. He was standing at the door of the clubhouse with a beer
in hand and shaking his head.
Nosey
and Prospect, with their passengers, sat patiently at the stop sign
waiting for Fatboy and Rhonda. They heard the sound of the 103
Screamin Eagle before they saw it round the bend. The bike wasn’t
slowing down, and it came between both bikes at the stop sign,
clipped the fender of the Prospect’s motorcycle and knocked him and
Sunny to the ground. It veered left, in front of Nosey’s bike and
rolled over on it’s side and careened down the highway. Fat Boy
held on to the bars until the bike came to a stop and pinned him
underneath the heavy V-twin. Rhonda was tossed through the air like
a rag doll, and landed ten feet away in a ditch.
Part
III, published June 2012
(March 2013)
Sunny
picked herself up off the ground, dazed and confused. The scene
before her was like a dream. The bike lay in a tangled heap, and
FatBoy was pinned underneath. She searched the scene and her eyes
landed on Rhonda, who had been thrown across the road in the ditch.
She ran to her and saw first the partially severed arm, bent at an
awkward position with the bone exposed, then the battered face with a
tangled piece of metal sticking out of her left eye, and blood
pooling beside her. “No!”, she screamed. “Rhonda!” Sunny
leaned over and pulled her lifeless body close, tears falling as she
rocked back and forth, sobbing. Prospect shot into action and called
back to the clubhouse. Sunny could hear his muted voice in the
background, “Ringo, it doesn’t look good; FatBoy is pinned under
the bike. Rhonda, uhh, she was thrown off the bike. I think she’s
dead, Ringo. There’s a car pulling off the side of the road. I’m
sure they’ll call 911 and I’m sure the police will be here soon.”
There was a pause, then Prospect said “Okay, Ringo, we’re on our
way.” Prospect pulled Sunny from Rhonda’s still warm body, and
whispered in her ear, “Sunny, there’s nothing we can do. We’ve
got to get out of here.” Nosey and Autumn had already picked up
their bike. They checked on FatBoy who said, “I’m okay, go, get
out of here.” Nosey turned the bike around and was idling with
Autumn on the back, waiting for Sunny and Prospect.
It
was never good news when the phone rang at 2 am, and Smitty knew
before he picked up the receiver that something was horribly wrong.
He had been asleep on the couch, where he slept most nights. Anne
had been the love of his life, and he could still remember their
courtship years ago down in San Antonio. They strolled the river
walk, hand in hand, spent long nights staring at the stars and
planning their futures, and after a short courtship, were married in
the chapel at Lackland AFB. They were happy young lovers until the
first baby arrived. Shortly after their marriage, she became
pregnant, and he received a remote assignment to Korea. He would
spend the next year away from his family, and she would give birth
without him present. She never forgave him or the Air Force. The
baby was born with a congenital heart condition, and she held him in
her arms until after three days, her only son was ripped away from
her and born up to heaven. She never forgave God either. Smitty
was sent home on emergency leave to be with his family, but still he
had to return to Korea after just three short weeks to finish the
five months left on his tour. That’s when Anne began drinking.
The loss was just too great, and she couldn’t bear the pain alone.
She started hanging out at the officer’s club on base, and was a
big hit with the young pilots in training. One evening, just one
month before Smitty’s return, she hooked up with a young
Lieutenant for a one night stand. She never got his name, and by
morning he was gone, shipped off to another assignment. Sunny was
born nine months later, and Smitty always suspected she wasn’t his
baby, but he fell in love with the little girl from the moment he
cradled her in his arms, and Sunny would always be Daddy’s little
girl. Anne knew Smitty wasn’t the father; she lived a torcherous
lie and was ridden with guilt. She did her best to reconcile things
with Smitty, and they had two more little girls before she finally
told him. Smitty was a Christian man and it hurt him deeply to
finally hear the truth of what he had suspected all along. He
wouldn’t divorce Anne, but their relationship was over, he told
her. Now
the phone was ringing in the middle of the night, the girls weren’t
home, and he felt a sharp pain in his chest as he tried to breath.
The words coming through the earpiece confirmed his fears. There had
been an accident. He needed to meet his commander at the police
station.
_________________________
(July
1995)
The
three boys climbed the tree house in Thomas’ back yard. It was
1995 and they were looking forward to summer vacation. Each weekday
after school Eddy, James and Thomas went to the tree house where they
could hang out, away from adult supervision. They were 10 and 11
years old and getting ready to graduate the 5th grade. None of them
made good grades, mostly because they were always trouble makers and
bullies, and they didn’t pay attention in class. Thomas was the
leader, a spoiled brat who was an only child. His mother was a
lawyer and his father was a doctor. They were never at home, and so
assuaged their guilt by buying him whatever he wanted. Tomeka and
John lived in the guest house. She worked midnight to noon at the
hospital Monday through Friday, and John worked day shift at the
station. After their shifts, they both worked together to take care
of the Dr. and Mrs. Branson’s home and their only child, Thomas.
And, they were taking care of Charlie for Deidre. From the first
time Tomeka held the little baby, Charlie, in her arms, she felt a
connection to him. She promised Diedre the baby would be taken care
of, and her brother, Dwight, made sure of that. On the day Charlie
was born, John met Dwight at the station and asked if he could
arrange for Charlie to be placed in the Branson’s foster care. The
Bransons were well thought of in the community and influential in
politics.
(July
1985)
John
knew that Tomeka and Dwight had lost their parents to an automobile
accident when they were young, and therefore, he thought it proper to
get Dwight’s blessing concerning his plans to marry Tomeka. That
morning was a busy one. He asked Dwight for permission to marry
Tomeka. He asked the Branson’s for permission to move Tomeka and
little Charlie into the guesthouse. He also asked them to take
Charlie into foster care with the understanding that it would be in
name only. Tomeka and John would raise the child until Deidre was
released from prison. John knew that the state would never give the
child to a mixed race couple, and his only option was to convince the
Bransons to take the child. Fortunately, they agreed to the
arrangement. After all, it would be like a little brother for
Thomas. Joanie Branson went through a difficult labor and delivery
and was told she should never attempt to have more children. There
was only one more thing to do. With Dwight’s blessing in hand, he
would get on his knees and propose to Tomeka. After
Dwight and John met with Deidre at the station, John took the rest of
the day off. With the engagement ring in his pocket, he nervously
paced outside the hospital. When Tomeka exited the front doors, he
was waiting. They locked eyes and he dropped to one knee. He took
her hand, and spoke sweetly for all to hear, “Tomeka, will you be
my wife?” Tears rolled down her eyes and she whispered, “Yes”.
The applause of onlookers was inspiring, as he first slipped the
engagement ring on her finger and then took her in his arms and gave
her a long kiss. Dwight
did the best he could to defend Deidre in court, but she was still
convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to 15 years in the state
penetentiary in Nashville. Both John and Tomeka made the 3 ½ hour
trip faithfully every Sunday to visit Deidre and they always brought
along pictures of little Charlie to show her. Tomeka became good
friends with Deidre and she was grateful to them for sending Dwight
to her and for taking care of little Charlie, while acknowledging
that she was his mother, and one day would want him back. It broke
Tomeka’s heart to know that she was going to lose Charlie one day,
but she hoped that Deidre would come to Memphis and live close to
them so they could remain in their lives.
_________________________
(July
1995)
The
boys sat around a circle in the tree house, and as was customary on
Friday after school each would bring to the table something to share.
They each tried to outdo the others and this week was no different.
First James showed his loot, a National Geographic Magazine
full of nudity. The boys stared at the black, naked bodies of the
African women and giggled as little boys will. Next Eddy showed his
loot, a switchblade knife that he claimed he had stolen. The boys
were in awe. Finally, it was Thomas’ turn. He pulled a piece of
folded paper out of his rear pocket. “What’s that?” said
James. “Just wait,” he answered as he carefully opened the paper
and began to read “June, 1986, Deidre Cash sentenced to fifteen
years in the State Penetentiary.” “Who’s Deidre Cash?” asked
James. “Hush, just wait,” replied Thomas. And, he continued to
read:
“Deidre
Cash was arrested last July after shooting her husband, Charles Cash,
and killing him. The pregnant woman who lived in Nashville, was in
an domestic altercation with her husband of one year that resulted in
her taking a gun off the bedside table and shooting him in the head.
Her defense claimed extenuating circumstances, self defense, that he
had raped her, and she had feared for her life. After killing her
husband, Mrs. Cash fled the scene and took a Greyhound bus to Memphis
where she was met by officers who promptly took her into custody.
The woman was nine months pregnant and went into labor. The officers
drove her to the emergency room where they kept her under
surveillance pending the birth of her child. Once released, the
officers transferred her to the city jail where she was booked on
murder charges. Her child, Memphis Charlie Cash, was put into foster
care and assigned to Ken and Joannie Branson, who are prominent
figures in the community. Mrs. Cash will be transferred to the State
Penetentiary in Nashville where she will serve out her sentence. She
will be eligible for parole and early release based on good behavior
in 1995.”
Both
James and Eddy had their mouths wide open as they listened to the
article. “Charlie, Our Charlie?” questioned James. “Yup,”
replied Thomas, “our Charlie.”
“His
momma’s in the pen in Nashville?” questioned Eddy.
“Looks
like it” said Thomas. “And, did you see she’s getting out this
year? I wonder when.” “Let’s go ask him” said James. The
three boys were excited. They jumped up and Thomas said, “Give me
that blade, Eddy.” He
held the switchblade up high.
“Let’s
cut the brat. He’s a no good boy; probably gonna grow up just like
his momma to be a killer” he said. Excitedly
the boys cheered as they raced out of the tree house and ran across
the yard. Charlie was sitting under a big tree reading the novel
“Where
the Red Fern Grows”
for a school book report. He read the part where the dogs tree a
raccoon, and ten year old Billy has to cut down the tree to get to
the raccoon. Fortunately a big wind came along, and the tree fell
easily for Billy. He read about the bullies, Rubin and Rainie
Pritchard, who challenged Billy to a coon hunting contest. He got to
the part where Rubin tried to kill Billy’s dogs, Old Dan and Little
Ann, with an ax, but instead tripped, fell on the ax and died as a
result of the injuries. Charlie was day dreaming as he read and told
himself “I’m going to have a Redbone Coonhound when I grow up,
just like Old Dan and Little Ann in the story. Or maybe Miss Meka,
(as he calls her), will buy me one. I think I’ll ask her.”
Charlie got up to run to the Big house where Meka was cleaning for
the Bransons. Just as he arose, before him stood the three boys,
James, Thomas and Eddy who have now backed him up against the tree.
They looked angry and Charlie could see the switchblade in Thomas’
hand lying flat against his thigh and gleaming in the sunlight. “I
wish I had a couple of dogs like Old Dan and Little Ann; these three
bullies before me wouldn’t be a problem then,” Charlie thought as
he looked at the boys and said, “What you doing? Get out of my
way.” “Hey,
don’t talk to us that way, you little Bastard,” said Thomas as he
pinned Charlie against the tree and lifted the switchblade up to his
face. Charlie pushed the hand with the switchblade away, and ran
past Thomas, but Eddy stuck out his foot and tripped Charlie. All
three boys surrounded him as he lay on the ground looking up at them.
Thomas jumped on him and straddled his body, while the other boys
each stood on one of his hands to keep him down. “We just heard
your momma’s in prison over in Nashville, Charlie. This here
article says she killed your daddy,” he said as he pulled the
crumpled newspaper from his rear pocket. “It says she’s getting
out soon. You gonna have to go live with your no good momma, boy.”
“You’re
lying,” said Charlie. “Look over there.” He nodded his head in
the direction of the big house, “Here comes Miss Meka. She’ll
tell you it’s not true.” Quickly
James and Eddy moved off his arms and ran away, not even looking to
confirm that Miss Meka was really there. She wasn’t. And, that
gave Charlie just the edge he needed. He placed his arms on the
shoulders of the stunned Thomas and rolled him over on his back. The
knife flung from his hand, and Charlie was quick to grab it. Now
Charlie had the upper hand. He had him in a head lock, his legs
wrapped around his waist and held the knife to his throat.
“Charlie,
we’re brothers, man. You know I was only kidding.”
“Give
it to me, now, Thomas,” Charlie spat. “I’m not kidding, man.”
Thomas
released the crumpled paper from his fist and it fell to the ground.
Charlie released Thomas and shoved him hard, sending him careening
forward flat on his face. Thomas stood up and ran toward the big
house without even looking back. Charlie picked up the paper and
went back to the tree where he once again sat with his back up
against it. He dropped the blood stained knife on the ground beside
him that had barely cut into Thomas’s skin. He unfolded the paper
and stared at the words through tear stained eyes. Miss Meka and
John had lied to him. They had told him his mother, Deidre, had
abandoned him at the hospital. They had told him that his father had
died in an accident, and that his mom likely felt overwhelmed and
just couldn’t take care of him. She was only 17, after all. They
told him that she loved him, and that is why she gave him to Miss
Meka and John to care for. Meka said that the morning he was born,
she had held him and cried fiercely over her decision to give him up.
“Lies, all lies”, Charlie cried. And he sat at the tree crying
until he fell asleep and was awakened by Miss Meka because he didn’t
come when she had called him for dinner.
------------------------------
(March
2013)
Smitty
arrived at the Minden police station on Broadway and was met by his
Commander. “Sorry to bother you so late, Captain Smith,” the
commanding officer said. “There’s been a senseless accident.
They’re holding your daughters, Sunny and Autumn, in a cell for
questioning. They’re okay., Smitty, just shaken up and scared.
They’re going to release them to you in a little while. Apparently
the girls and Rhonda were out with some of the punks from the Rebel
Horsemen Motorcycle club and there was an accident. Sunny was riding
on the back with one of the thugs they call Fatboy. Autumn was
riding with their prospect and Rhonda Wilson, you know Sergeant
Wilson’s daughter, over in fuels, she was on the back of the bike
with the punk they call Fatboy. He slammed into a group of bikes at
a stop sign, Smitty. I’m so sorry to tell you this, but Rhonda
didn’t make it.” The
blood drained from Smitty’s face as the Commander kept talking and
all Smitty heard was “blah, blah, blah”. He was in shock. The
Commander called for a medic and gingerly moved Smitty to a nearby
chair. “Get me a medic over here. Get this man some water. Hurry
up.” He barked orders as though he were in the middle of a combat
mission. And the officers responded as though they were his Airmen.
------------------------
The
motorcycles were lined up at the clubhouse getting ready for the 30
mile trip into Shreveport for Rhonda’s funeral. There were over a
hundred motorcycles that came from all over the Ark-La-Tex to support
the ride. There were Patriot Guard members who would lead the ride
and carry the flag. They would also set up a flag line outside the
Air Force Base. Security at the base would not allow the Rebel
Horsemen to ride through the gates with their colors, so they would
remain in the rear of the formation and would join the mourners
outside the gate. Only Charlie, the President, his VP, Nosey, and
Prospect would attend the funeral at the chapel on base. Smitty had
arranged it all. Angry with Sunny and Autumn, but at the same time
so grateful that they were still alive, he knew that if he didn’t
support their relationship with members of the club, he would lose
them anyway. Ann was upset with his decision, and started drinking
the morning of the funeral. By the time they had to go, she was
passed out on the couch, and unable to attend. Fatboy was still in
the hospital under house arrest, charged with DUI and vehicular
homicide. It would take an act of Congress to get him off on this
one.
Part IV - Published in August edition of Pinky's Passion Motorcycle Travel Magazine
(July
1995)Ten
year old Charlie looked at Miss Meka in disbelief. He had always
trusted her to take care of him, to be honest and to love him, but
now he was being told it was a lie. Miss Meka and John had been lying
to him all along. His mother was alive. His heart skipped a beat. He
was disheartened to learn that all he had ever known had been changed
in just a minute when Thomas read the truth to him. And now, everyone
would know the truth. It was printed in the newspaper. How would he
go on? Still, he had a mother. It took a while for that to seep in.
As his gut wrenched and he wiped tears from his eyes, he asked Miss
Meka “Is she coming here? Am I going to see her?”
“Do
you want to see her, Charlie?”
“Uh,
uh, I don’t know. I don’t know her Miss Meka. I’m scared.”
“Well
now, Honey”, she said as she put her loving arms around her. “You
just eat some supper now. When you’re done, you go wash up, take a
long hot bath, and then come to the living room and Miss Meka and you
will have a nice long talk. It’s your choice, Charlie. You think
about that now. Miss Meka not gonna make you do nuthin you’uns
don’t want to, you hear me. Go on now. Eat your supper.” Miss
Meka walked to the sink and began to wash the dishes, as Charlie ate
his supper, sobbing frequently as his gut wrenched with the big
decision he had on his heart.______________________
March 2013
“The last few days have been a whirl. I still can’t believe Rhonda’s gone. She was my best friend, and she just didn’t deserve to die such a senseless death and at such a young age. I’m fearful of my continued association with Memphis and the club, and fearful of what could happen to me and others. I never thought anything like this could ever happen. But now that it has. Now that it has. ‘Sob’ I just don’t know.” thought Sunny.
Sunny rolled over in bed and ran her fingers through the thick hair on Memphis’ head. He didn’t even stir. The funeral would be this afternoon and the wake was this evening. She got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. “I might as well get this day started”, she thought. In the shower, she washed away the evidence of the lingering sex she had with Memphis last night. She wasn’t a virgin before Memphis, but she wasn’t very experienced either, and she certainly had never enjoyed the soft, tender love of a man ten years her senior. She smiled as she remembered his touch, how he kissed her and made her instantly fall in love with him. She hadn’t intended to spend the night, and when she called home, her mother was passed out, Dad was asleep in the chair and Autumn said she would cover for her if he woke up. She still couldn’t believe it happened. Memphis was so mad when he found out that she was only 17, but he couldn’t control himself, and she knew he had fallen for her, just as she had fallen for him. She was excited and scared at the same time. She was entering a life she knew nothing about. And, it was starting off with the death of a dear friend, a great loss. Yet, she was so enamored with Memphis, and wanted to be with him every second of every day.
Wrapped in a pink, silk bathrobe, she quietly tiptoed past Memphis still soundly sleeping and into the kitchen where she found what she needed to put a pot of coffee on to brew. She reached over and turned on the morning news while she searched the refrigerator for food. She hit pay dirt with a carton of eggs and some sausage. She found the frying pan in the sink, and began making breakfast. On the news, she heard the Anchorwoman, Tonay Samsor, begin a dialogue that made her break out sobbing. “Today, 17 year old, Rhonda Wilson will be laid to rest at Hillcrest Cemetery in Haughton following funeral services at Barksdale Air Force Base Chapel 2. Services will be officiated by family friend, Chaplain John Smith at noon. Rhonda was involved in a motorcycle accident Wednesday evening. She was riding with Chaplain Smith’s daughters, Sunny and Autumn and members of the local motorcycle club, the Rebel Horsemen. Witnesses say that one member of the motorcycle club, John Richards, whom members call Fat Boy, was taking up the rear of the riding group and failed to stop, going between a row of motorcycles, even knocking one down, before he ran off the road. Miss Wilson, a passenger on the back of Mr. Richard’s motorcycle, was thrown from the bike and pronounced dead at the scene. Mr. Richards is in serious condition at LSU Medical Center and charges of 2nd degree murder are pending. His blood alcohol level has not been released, but sources close to the family have confirmed that alcohol was a factor.” Between sobs, Sunny dialed her number and her father picked up on the second ring “Where are you, Sunny?” “Daddy”, Sunny said into the phone. “I had to run out to the store. I’ll see you at the chapel, o.k. I love you.” And, she hung up before he could say anything more. Autumn was ready for the funeral. Sunny had been with Memphis non stop since the accident. She was pretty certain Daddy knew Sunny didn’t come home last night, but had her back. When he noticed that her bed hadn’t been slept him, Autumn told him that she had stayed in her room last night. Daddy had already left to prepare for the funeral service, and only Autumn and her mother were home, and her mother was in bed asleep or passed out. Autumn was dressed in blue jeans, boots and a Harley t-shirt. She would be riding in the parade of bikes on the back with Nosey today. She had no trepidation about riding; she wasn’t afraid. Unlike Sunny and Memphis, her and Nosey were not an item. Autumn liked the thrill of riding and Nosey was more than willing to have her decorate the back of his bike. But, she wasn’t interested in him. She was just using him for the ride until someone better came along. She kind of had her eye on that prospect. He was closer to her age. She shrugged her shoulders as the doorbell rang. “Mom, I’m leaving. See you later”, she hollered. And out the door she went. Outside there were three motorcycles. Nosey’s, the Prospect’s, and one of someone she didn’t know, but he was also wearing a Prospect Patch. Nosey led the bikes out of the driveway and down the street. When they pulled into the parking lot of the Skating Rink, it was already beginning to fill up with bikes. They parked the bikes, and it was then that Autumn noticed she didn’t bring her purse. “I forgot my purse, Nosey. Can we go back and get it?” “Uh, no, I don’t think so. I need to talk to Memphis. Let me send the Prospects.” “Prospect,” he nodded, “you two go back and get her purse. That o.k. Autumn,” he asked. “Sure, here’s the key”, she said, “It’s right inside the door on the table. Mom’s asleep and nobody else is home, so just go in and get it. It’ll be alright. Thanks, I really appreciate it.”
_________
The parade of flags extended all the way from the stop light at the Old Minden and North Gate Road intersection, where the Skating Rink stood, the place where Rhonda, Autumn and Sunny had first met the club members. The rink was being used today as a staging area for the Club. The Patriot Guard formed a flag line along the road from the Skating Rink to the Gate leading on to Barksdale Air Force Base. News crews were stationed outside the gate with cameras pointed at the entrance, ready for the bikes to come streaming through. The Security Forces Commander had raised the alert level and had pre approved a list of visitors allowed on the base. In order to minimize the delays, they had placed additional security forces at the gate.
_______
The house was quiet. Everyone was finally gone and would likely be gone the rest of the day. The funeral was taking place. Anne had feigned passing out so she would not have to go. She was going to rendezvous with Congressman Jameson. She had met the Congressman at a rare official function, the Eighth Air Force Ball, that she had attended with her husband last year. Her and Congressman Jameson had flirted all evening and before she went home that night he shook her hand and placed a slight kiss on the side of her cheek. When his hand came away, she was left with a scrap of paper which he had hurriedly scribbled a phone number on. It was days before she had the nerve to call him. But it was not long before he convinced her to meet for a drink. They met at the Blind Tiger in Shreveport for lunch and then went to the Holiday Inn and had a few drinks in the lounge. Before long Anne was getting drunk, and he suggested she get a room and rest a little. She replied “That would probably be a good idea.” “Go ahead, Honey, Why don’t you go up to reservations and get that room. After you get the key, come back here. I’ll order us one more drink. Then you can get a nap, and you’ll be able to drive home.”“No funny stuff?”“No, no, you just need to sleep off some of that alcohol before you drive” he smiled.Anne got the room and returned, but one more drink turned in to two, then three and four. Pretty soon she found herself being escorted to the room by the Congressman. “Shh”, he said, as he slid the card in the door, and held her up by the elbow. “We’re gonna have some fun now”. “Well”, she smiled, “you are a cutey, and Lord knows I could use some good lovin by a big, strong, handsome man.” He opened the door, and inside, closed it just as quickly. He took her in his arm and gave her a long kiss. The Congressman unbuttoned her blouse and moved her toward the bed. They consummated their relationship that afternoon. And, that is how the affair started. Now they were on the couch in her own home in heated passion while her family was attending the funeral of a young girl. Anne should be there, but this was more important to her. Who knew that this would end in Anne being charged with murder and the Congressman being blackmailed by the Rebel Horseman? Had she known, maybe she would have went to the funeral.
_______
The two Prospects pulled up to Sunny and Autumn’s house for a quick stop to grab Autumn’s purse. They had the keys, so it shouldn’t take long. But when they opened the door, they were stunned to see a couple on the couch, naked and in the throes of passion. It was Anne, (Sunny and Autumn’s mother), and they were pretty sure the man was Congressman Jameson. The man heard the noise at the door and looked up at them just as the cell phone camera flashed and the door slammed shut. “Let’s get out of here. This might be something we can use. Damn, I don’t believe it. Memphis is not going to believe it either. Damn. Let’s go”, the Prospect said. And they ran to the bikes, peeled out and raced back to the gathering point at the skating rink. At 12:30 pm, Memphis gathered the brothers together in a circle. I stood alone, leaning against the wall of the rink, looking up at the sky and remembering my friend Rhonda, whom I already missed dearly. My heart was breaking. I was deep in my thoughts when I heard the loud chant of Memphis “Who are we?” And the shouted reply of the club members “Rebel Horsemen!” That was the signal that it was time to go, and Memphis walked towards me. He roughly grabbed my arm and practically dragged me to the bike, “c’mon”, he said “we’re rolling”. I obediently followed him and waited as he got on the bike and stood “Old Iron”, the name he lovingly called his Harley, up straight. When it was steadied, he nodded to me and I put my right foot on the floorboard, steadied myself with my right hand on his shoulder, and swung my left leg over the bike, just like he had taught me. I was a little scared after the accident Saturday, but I was thrilled to be riding with the leader of club. I felt strangely important and all the other girls looked at me with jealousy. They all wanted to be sitting where I was. I was a little bothered by how roughly he had grabbed my arm, but shrugged it off; he was probably just upset over the loss of Rhonda and how it had affected the club. Certainly he didn’t mean anything by it. After all, we had been together constantly since the accident and he said he loved me. That made me smile. Through all this grieving and sadness, I felt just a little guilty because I was so in love and so happy with Memphis and the new life that he offered.
________
It was a beautiful service. Hundreds of bikes went through the gates of Barksdale to pay respect to a fallen rider. A police escort and the Patriot Guard riders led the bikes from the chapel to the graveside at Hillcrest. There the service concluded with a final Rev. Everyone stood beside their bikes as one person began revving the motor and then all began revving. It went on for what seemed like an eternity before it finally dwindled, and then Memphis touched my arm and said “Wait”. There was silence, but out of the silence came one last rev by the Tailgunner, the last bike in the line. And when he was done, Memphis said “That’s it, now we ride to the Clubhouse and celebrate her life. You want to come, or you need to go with the family?” I thought that was so sweet of him to ask, and I was torn. I wanted to ride. I wanted to be with Memphis. But, I didn’t want to be selfish. “Can I say goodbye, Memphis?” “Sure, Sweety”, and he leaned over and gave me a soft kiss on my lips as tears streamed down my eyes. I saw him give a command to the bikes to stand by as I walked away and went to Rhonda’s mother to give her my hugs. I spent many days at her house, and she was sometimes more of a mother than my own. She looked so sad, like she had lost the world. I guess maybe she had. Rhonda had been her only child. Thankfully, she understood the motorcycle world. She allowed Rhonda to hang out with the club because she and her ex husband were riders themselves. I gave her a hug and told her I loved her. “I’m gonna go with them Marci, o.k.” She nodded through her own tears “o.k. Baby, be safe. I love you.” And, she held me tight. “Be careful now, Sunny, we don’t want to lose you, too.” “Oh, Momma Marci, you won’t, you won’t. I’ll be careful. I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I miss her so much.” And we both hugged and cried until finally she pushed me away and wiped my tears and said “go now”.
___________
“Hello”“Hello, Congressman Jameson”“May I ask who’s calling?”“Tell him it’s Charlie Cash, and he’s gonna want to take this call.”The Congressman came to the phone. “Before they move John Richards from the hospital to the jail, I want you to get him out on bail, you understand. You’re going to do this, and then we’ll talk about how you’re going to make the charges go away.”“Who are you? What are you talking about? “Let’s just say I’ve got a photo of you sleeping with the Air Force Chaplain’s wife, and that’s not going to look good for your re election or marriage. Now you make it happen. We’ll be in touch.”“You bastard!”The phone went dead.
Part V Published October 2012
March
2013
“Hello”
“Judge
Rim?”
“Yes,
who’s calling?”
“This
is Congressman Jameson. I need a small favor.”
“You
want a favor from me. You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me at
home. I’ve told you never to call me here. What part of that
don’t you understand?”
“I’m
sorry sir. But this is an emergency. You’ve seen the coverage
about the motorcycle accident on Wednesday that killed that young
girl, Rhonda Wilson. Well, I’m involved with her best friend’s
mother, and the damn motorcycle club, the Rebel Horsemen, Judge,
they’re blackmailing me. You know Anne. She’s an Air Force
Chaplain’s wife. And, Ken, they’ve got photos of me with her.”
“What
do they want, Congressman?”
“John
Richards, he’s the man that was riding the motorcycle with the
girl, Rhonda, when she died. He hasn’t been charged yet. But
they’re considering vehicular homicide, maybe even 2nd degree
murder. Currently, he’s at LSU under close security guard, but
they don’t want him to go to jail. They want us to work out bail.”
“Damn
it, Congressman. I’m tired of bailing you out of this shit.
There’s nothing I can do for you, even if I wanted to.”
“Judge,
you’ve got to. Trust me, you don’t want to ignore this request.
The Horsemen are dangerous and they could expose both of us.”
“Are
you threatening me, Congressman?”
“I’m
just saying. You think about it, Sir. I’m sure you won’t want
your private life exposed any more than I want mine out there in the
open. It is an election year, after all.”
“I
don’t like it. And, I don’t like you threatening me. You have
no room to pass judgment. You’re worthless!” There was a pause.
“Damn it. Let me make some inquiries. I’ll get back to you. In
the meantime, keep your mouth shut, and stay away from that woman
until this blows over, you hear me?”
“Yes
sir.”The
phone went dead.
_______________________________
July
1995
John
was driving the little Hyundai and Miss Meka was in the passenger’s
seat. Ten year old Charlie fidgeted in the back seat. “Are we
almost there, Miss Meka?”
“It’s
just a little while now, Boy. Your momma’s gonna be so proud of
you, Charlie. She’s been waitin’ ten years to hold you in her
arms again. Remember what I told you, Son, it wasn’t her fault.
She didn’t have any choice but to go to prison. She did it to
protect you, and she did it to stay alive. Your daddy, now he wasn’t
really a bad man; he just got inside the juice and let that whiskey
take over. He hurt your momma and he would’ve hurt you too. You
remember that.”
“I’m
scared, Miss Meka.”
“What
you scared of, Boy? Miss Deidre’ll be comin’ home and stayin’
with us. It won’t be no different, ‘cept we’ll have a house
guest. You look at it that way, and take time to get to know your
momma; you got all the time in the world.”
“Okay,”
Charlie sighed.
They
pulled up to the Tennessee Prison for Women, a maximum security
institution for women convicted of major felonies. There was
concertina wire surrounding the large labyrinth of brown and white
brick buildings. There were guards perched high on their outlooks,
scanning the grounds with binoculars and carrying large weapons at
the ready should any disruption require their deadly response.
Little Charlie was fearful of the guards. “What if they
accidentally shoot me, Miss Meka?” “Oh, Boy, don’t you worry,
now, that won’t happen,” she reassured Charlie. Charlie’s
mother had called this place home for the past ten years. While
inside, Deidre had attended classes to obtain her GED and went on to
continue her education in a culinary program offered by the prison’s
rehabilitation department. For the past 60 days she had been
attending a therapeutic transitional program designed to help her
reintegrate into society. The prison system would also help her with
post custody employment. John
pulled up to the security gate where the guard asked for
identification. Because he was a police officer by trade, he was
able to forego the usual pat down and interrogation normally reserved
for visitors to the compound. John explained that they were there to
pick up Miss Deidre Cash who was being released today. The guard
raised his eyebrows and nodded in the direction of a nearby picnic
table where a beautiful, thin blonde woman, dressed in a stylish
polka-dotted dress was sitting quietly with her hands folded as if in
quiet prayer. Her lips were red, her skin was ivory and her blue
eyes reflected the morning light. “Park right over there,” the
guard said, and pointed to a small parking lot inside yet another
gate which opened when he hit a switch. “She’s already been
processed and is ready to go. When you enter the parking lot, I’m
going to lock the gate behind you. When you’re ready to leave, just
get back inside the car and I’ll reopen the gate.” As
promised, once John entered the parking area, the gate closed behind
them. “You ready?” John asked as he turned and looked at
Charlie. He placed his hand on the little boy’s arm and said, “Be
strong, Son. It will be all right. Today is a great day. Today you
will meet your mother. I am so proud of you, and I know she will be
too.” With that he turned and opened the car door. He walked
around and opened Tomeka’s door and then little Charlie’s door.
“Come on,” he said as he reached his hand out to the little boy.
Charlie wrapped his little hand inside John’s big hand, and felt
safe as he walked toward his mother whom he had never met. Tomeka
held on to his other hand and Charlie could feel the strength of the
two people he loved most in this world. He knew his life was going
to be changed today. He had caught a glimpse of his mom as they
drove up and he was astounded by her beauty. At the sight of her, he
had felt his heart swell, and already loved this woman whom he had
been told was his mother. All fear was now gone. Everything was
going to be all right. He just knew it.
______________________
March
2013
The
clubhouse was crowded with people who came to celebrate the life of a
girl most didn’t even know. But, that didn’t matter. What
mattered was that she died while riding on the back of one of the
club member’s bikes, and that made her association with the club
the same as being a club member’s old lady. It would be
disrespectful not to show up without a good excuse and names would be
taken of those who failed to show up. The club was a family and it
required a dedication that most civilians wouldn’t understand. The
club would always come before anything else including the members’
biological families. It was understood that there would be no
excuses from the regular patched members and prospects today. And,
there would be many riders from other chapters nearby coming in for
the wake. Their Presidents would impose the same responsibilities –
it was a mandatory event with no excuses. Therefore, that evening
the clubhouse was packed to capacity. Prospects of the Shreveport
chapter along with prospects from visiting chapters were working
security outside the building making sure the bikes were secure,
keeping order, and keeping unwanted visitors away. Other prospects
were busy getting beers for patched members, cooking and serving
food, emptying trash and doing whatever was asked of them. Tommy
was still wearing a prospect patch, but was hoping he would be asked
to join the club soon. After all, he was the senior prospect and had
shown his willingness to do anything a patched member asked of him
for almost a year now. Initially Ringo was angry with him for
bringing Sunny, an underage girl, to the clubhouse, but now that
Ringo had laid claim to her as his his old lady, Tommy was in his
good graces. Tommy
had just finished a shift at the front gate of the compound and was
walking toward the clubhouse when a “squirrely” little
hang-around approached him. “Hey man, Ringo is looking for you.
He’s mad as hell.” Tommy shoved his hair back out of his eyes
and proceeded toward the door and the certain wrath of the President.
Ringo was so unstable. One minute he was fine, the next he was
enraged over something little. What it would be this time, Tommy had
no idea. However, he was quite surprised and relieved when he opened
the doors amid cheers, handshakes and backslaps. “Welcome
Brother”. “Congratulations”. “Proud to have you join us.”
A smile spread across his face as the crowd separated and Ringo
stood before him. “Brothers, friends, guests, I can find no better
way to honor the loss of Rhonda this evening than to patch in Tommy.
Tommy was on the fateful ride when Rhonda lost her life, and his
response and actions were nothing less than honorable. I am proud to
welcome you to the Rebel Horsemen Motorcycle Club. The brothers got
together and voted you in as a brother and, as is customary, chose
your road name. You will from here on out be called Bomber, for the
B-52’s your work on, of course.” With that, Ringo handed him the
full patch set; the large Ark-La-Tex center patch, the Motorcycle
Club bottom rocker, the Rebel Horsemen top rocker and his name tape.
“You’ve got one hour to have that sewed on and meet me at the
Stamtisch. Come here.” And, he reached out his arms and gave a
big brotherly hug to the newly patched-in member of the Rebel
Horsemen. When they separated, Ringo poured his beer over Bomber’s
head and then raised Bomber’s hand in the air like a championship
fighter and shouted for all to hear: “Brothers, welcome Bomber, the
newest member of the Rebel Horsemen.” In response and amid cheers,
the patched members came one at a time and each gave a hug, a
handshake and a personal welcome followed by the custom of pouring
their drink over his head. Ten minutes later, and beer and whiskey
soaked, Bomber left the clubhouse with a huge smile on his face. He
was heading into town to have his patches attached. _____________________
March
2013
The
Rebel Horsemen, Vicksburg Mississippi Chapter were riding along
Interstate 20 West toward Minden late Saturday afternoon. Prior
commitments kept them from being able to make Rhonda’s funeral, but
they wanted, nonetheless, to show their respect by attending her
wake. Riding in side by side formation were Grease, the President;
Humpty, the VP; Rocket, the Sergeant At Arms, patch holders Tiny,
Bubba, Bear, and Squirrel, two prospects, and a hang-around. The
group of ten was traveling amid light traffic and going above the
speed limit at 95 miles per hour when a group of Hell’s Prospects
came up behind them. The group of Hell’s Prospects was twice their
number and wasted no time overtaking and surrounding them. They
forced the group of Horsemen off the road. As soon as the bikes came
to a stop, the fight ensued. Knives came out and the Hell’s
Prospects used 18” flashlights that they carried strapped to their
belts as weapons. The Horsemen were outnumbered, but had no choice
but to fight, and they put up a good fight. But, when it was all
over, Tiny and Squirrel, as well as their two prospects, were
severely injured. The Hell’s Prospects beat them relentlessly, and
when they were finished, the leader of their group said, “Get out
of Mississippi or die,” and he raised his hand as though he were
pointing a gun at them. With those words said, and the threat of
future gun battles, they got on their bikes and left. It was only
moments before the State Troopers arrived on the scene, having been
called by a passerby.
__________________________
March
2013
The
Judge reluctantly picked up the phone and dialed the Congressman’s
phone number. When he answered, all the Judge said was, “there’s
nothing I can do.” And he hung up. The
Congressman stood staring at his phone after the call from the Judge.
He knew he had to let the Horsemen know that he was not going to be
able to get their member released. It would certainly mean trouble
for him and he would probably make the morning news. He couldn’t
bear the shame. He would have to take the coward’s way out, he
thought. “Yes, but not without ruining the Judge first,” he
thought. He placed the thumb drive into his computer and searched
for the file named simply “Judge”. It took only a moment for the
video to begin playing. On the screen the Judge was in a hotel room
with a young boy of about 12. The boy was sitting on the couch and
the Judge was standing before him naked and fondling his private
parts. You could hear the Judge say to the boy, “when you grow up,
yours will be big like this, too.” And then the Judge cooed, “Let
me see yours, Mike.” Mike shook his head “no”. The Judge
replied, “If you don’t, I’ll hurt your Aunt Anne.” The
little boy sobbed, but he stood up and dropped his jeans to his
ankles. “Now your underwear,” the Judge smiled. The
Congressman closed the window on the video. He couldn’t watch any
more. It was so disgusting what this man was doing to this little
boy. And he should have helped the boy, but the Judge knew about
Anne and threatened to blackmail him. “Now it was going to
backfire on the Judge, the bastard.” The Congressman opened his
email and typed “Ringo” in the “To” block and “the Judge”
in the “Subject” block. He attached the video. Then he typed
Anne’s email address and the Judge’s email address in the “copy”
block. The Congressman poured a whiskey and loaded his 40 caliber.
He shot back the drink, slammed down the glass, and clicked “Send”
on the laptop. It was done. The Congressman poured one last drink
of whiskey, looked up to God and said, “I’m sorry,” and he
picked up the gun and placed it in his mouth. The last thing he
heard was the sound of the trigger as he pulled it back. His brain
exploded inside his head.
Part VI Published December 2012
July 1995
Moose was Charlie’s brother and best friend, and although it had been 10 years since Diedre had wielded the gun and ruthlessly pulled the trigger, Moose had not forgotten and he would have his revenge. Not only had the useless bitch killed his brother, but she had his baby and is allowing the boy to be raised by a cop and a black woman. Sure Charlie, Jr. was staying with the rich, prominent family, the Bransons, but it was apparent that the black woman, Tomeka, was raising him, and her with a white man, a cop no less. “If she thinks she’s going to get out of jail and take the boy and live a life of leisure like nothing ever happened, she’s got another think a coming.”As President of the Hell’s Prospects Motorcycle Club, (HPMC), Moose was well known both to law enforcement and to his adversaries. He had a long rap sheet that included drug possession, racketeering, kidnapping, and attempted murder. Fortunately for him, but not so much for the law enforcement community, his rap sheet also shows a lot of dismissals, probation, and county jail times. He was once tried under RICO but released on a technicality. RICO stands for Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act that is a United States Federal Law that provides for extended criminal penalties and focuses on racketeering. It provides for leaders of an organization to be tried for crimes which they ordered others to do or assisted them in, and closes a perceived loophole that allowed someone who had told someone else to, for instance, commit murder, to be exempt from the trial because he did not actually do it. RICO was enacted in October, 1970, and was just about the only thing Moose was afraid of. It was now 1995, and RICO cases were common. Because of RICO, Moose had to be very careful in how he handled his revenge, but he would find a way. In fact, he had a plan, a plan that would not involve the club. No, Moose was going to take care of Deidre himself. The club wanted to be involved, because Charlie had been a member of the HPMC, Nashville Chapter, and they felt it their duty, but Moose had spoken, and they would let him handle it.
___________________________
March 2013
Ringo fanned his fingers through his long blonde hair, rubbed his tired eyes, and leaned back in his chair. The events of the last week were catching up to him: the accident, the funeral, the beating of the Vicksburg chapter, and Sunny. “What the hell was he thinking, sleeping with a 17 year old?” “What the hell?” He had been reading the secret Rebel Horsemen Motorcycle Club, (RHMC), forum and sorting through emails for the last hour hoping to hear from the Congressman. Time was running out and Fatboy would soon be well enough to be transferred to the jail. Then it would be difficult to get him out. He was so tired. Resigned, he sighed, and reached forward to close the lid on the lap top in front of him. As the lid went down, he heard the “beep” of an incoming email and thought, “Damn, it’s never ending, is it?” Ringo picked up his glass and swigged the last of his whiskey on the rocks. “It could be Jameson. Just one more, and then I’m done.” He opened the lid and looked at the “From” box of the new email. It was him. His curiosity got the best of him. Maybe the Congressman had some good news. He sure could use that about now. He read the email:“Be prepared for what you are about to read. You will want to be alone. Anne, darling, I have enjoyed our time together. You are a sweet flower who brought beauty to my messed up life. Don’t grieve over me, darling. I am but a passing distraction to you. You have a good Christian man who I could never light a candle to. Go to him. Make things right. I’m sorry for any pain I may have caused you, Dear.”Ringo glanced up at the “cc to” block and noted that the email was copied to both Anne and the Judge. He continued reading.“Ringo, you’ve got what you want. The attached video will give you the fuel necessary to light the fire under the Judge’s ass and get him to do whatever you want. All I ask, Ringo, is that when you get Fatboy released, you take care of that sorry assed judge. Don’t let my death be in vain.”“Judge Warner, you read that right. You don’t even need to watch the video. Trust me, it incriminates you. You need to run; run as fast as you can. But, no matter how fast you run, know that you will be hunted down. The Rebels will find you. You’re a dead man; just as dead as I am. I’ll see you in hell, and soon, no doubt.”Ringo sat up straight. He took in all the information, and the thoughts ran through his head. “Poor Sunny, her mom’s secret is out,” he thought. He was sure Sunny didn’t know about Anne and the Congressman. He was keeping the photos that the prospects had taken the other day to himself. He intended to use them only if and when necessary. He couldn’t protect her from this now. Or could he? Since the email was just sent, maybe the police didn’t know yet. Maybe he could get to the laptop and delete it. “What was it that incriminates the Judge?” He was pleased to know that whatever it was, it would surely be enough to get Fatboy out. He clicked on the attachment and the media player opened. The still picture was enough to make him sick. He saw the Judge standing naked before a little boy. As his stomach turned, he pushed play. The video replayed a scene that Ringo wished he could erase. No matter how much this video helped his cause, he wished he could undo the events taking place before his eyes. He had seen enough. Before he even finished watching the clip, he slammed the laptop shut, silencing the video. Ringo picked up his cell phone and called Nosey, “Dude, I need you over here now.” “On my way,” came the answer.
Anne lay spread across the bed with her television watching her sleep, and her laptop on the bed right where she had left it when she had drifted off. The bottle of Bacardi was on the Queen Anne table beside her with her glass of melted ice leaving yet another ring on the hardwood finish. The ding of a new email woke her. She opened her eyes and looked at the computer. Maybe it was her lover, the Congressman. Maybe he wanted a rendezvous. She smiled and opened the lid. She looked at the “From” box of the new email and saw that it was indeed from him. When she opened the email and looked at the other recipients, she paused. “Why would he copy the Judge and Ringo, President of the Rebel Horsemen?” she wondered. She noticed the attachment titled “The Judge and his Boy,” and wondered what the title meant to her. Was it sent to her in error? She shrugged and then began to read the email. The warmth drained from her body as a chill came over her. Her hands flew to her mouth to cover her scream. “No, it can’t be.” She read the entire email and read it again, and again, and yet again. Through tears she tried to make sense of it. And then she remembered the attachment, “the Judge’s Boy”. She clicked on the link and just like at Ringo’s place, the video player opened with a snapshot of the Judge naked, standing before a little boy. Upon closer inspection of the grainy film, she realized that it was her nephew, Mike. She pushed play and as she watched, horror filled her soul and she screamed loudly and sobbed uncontrollably. Smitty heard her screams from downstairs and ran to her. He flung the door open and shouted, “What is it, Anne, what is it?” She turned the laptop screen towards him and said, “Just watch, just watch, Smitty. It’s my little nephew. How could he do this?” Smitty turned to his wife and took her in his arms and soothed her as she cried.
The Judge
was at a social event when the email was sent. He wouldn’t have an
opportunity to watch it alone. He wouldn’t have an opportunity to
run.
Ringo and Nosey gassed up at the Walmart pumps. Then they went inside for some items: duct tape, a couple of steaks, a lighter, some charcoal, and some lighter fluid. They placed the items in the saddlebags and strapped the charcoal to the passenger seat using bungee cords. First they would take a ride to the clubhouse and give instructions to the prospects. The prospect’s job would be to break into the Congressman’s house and get the laptop. Then they would drag the body outside by the grill and start a fire. While the steaks are cooking their instructions are to soak the siding with lighter fluid and burn the Congressman’s house down making it look like a grilling accident. And, they had to get in and out of there without being seen. It wouldn’t hold up to close scrutiny, but initially, first responders would assume they’re dealing with an accident scene. Only upon further investigation and the autopsy report, would they realize they were dealing with a crime scene. It would give the club time to incriminate the Judge in the death of the Congressman.
Ringo and Nosey left the clubhouse and went to pay the judge a visit. They drove in a cage to keep from alerting neighbors of motorcycles in the area. Earlier, Ringo had made some phone calls and was certain of the Judge’s location at the social event, and knew when to expect him home. He had indicated to their source that he would be making it an early evening since he had court to attend in the morning. He had even bragged about the worthless low lives whom he would ruin for good by putting them behind bars for a very long time, their source relayed. Ringo and Nosey would enjoy getting even with the Judge.
The Judge shook hands with the Governor of Louisiana and the Mayors of Shreveport and Bossier City. He crossed paths with Sandra Bullock and Tom Cruise who were both in the area filming their new movie, The Pathfinders, to be released next year in 2014. He smiled and made small talk with millionaires and every influential person from miles around. He talked politics and noted how the country has suffered under the Democrats for the past five years. He promised his support to Governor Jindal when he runs for President of the United States in 2016. The Judge made sure he had seen and been seen, but it had been a long week and he needed to prepare for court in the morning. He was going to stop by and see Mike first, though. Mike lost his father to cancer two years ago and was being raised by his mother, Joan, Anne’s sister. Joan worked as a court recorder, and had logged many cases for Judge Warner. She flirted with him relentlessly and even invited him to her house on several occasions. That’s how the Judge met Mike, gained Joan’s trust and began to mentor the boy. At first, he took the boy to ball games, the State Fair, and the movies. They always stopped for pizza, hamburgers or ice cream. Then one day, he took the boy to a hotel room and molested him. He told the boy that if he told anyone, his mom would lose her job and he would have to hurt Aunt Anne. The boy was only 12 and believed him, of course.
The Judge had told Joan that he was going to pick up the boy and take him to a movie. Since it would be late he told her, “Why don’t I just keep him overnight and drop him off at school in the morning on the way into work?” She said, “You’d do that for me? That would give me a chance to relax and enjoy the night alone for a change. I could catch up on some reading, do some cleaning, and even run around the house naked,” she winked, “if I like. It’s been so long since I’ve had any time to myself, you know. You are a Godsend, Sir. Thank you very much.” And, she bowed. “If she only knew”, he thought.
When the Judge pulled up into the driveway, Ringo and Nosey were already inside. They sat comfortably on the sofa and waited for him to flick on the light. Soon, they heard the key turn in the lock, and they pointed their weapons directly at the door. As expected, the light came on, and they were shocked to see him standing there with the little boy. “Close the door,” said Ringo to the Judge. To the boy he said, “It’s o.k. Mike, come over here. I promise we won’t hurt you, and neither will the Judge any more. We know what he’s done to you, and we won’t let it happen again.” The boy walked toward Ringo’s outstretched hand as he placed the gun on the coffee table and coaxed Mike. Nosey kept cover on the Judge, and Ringo said, “I said close the door!” The judge followed his orders and replied, “Now there, there’s no need for guns. What is it you want? I’m certain I can help. You want bail for your man, John Richards, right? I can make that happen.” “Shut up,” said Ringo. “Take him in the bedroom, Nosey. Tie him up. Make sure he’s gagged and I’ll take care of the boy.” Mike was crying, the tears rolling down his cheeks as Ringo led him to the kitchen. “Sit down here, Mike. Do you want some water?” Before he could answer Ringo was filling a glass for the little boy. “Here you are now. Just let me make a phone call and I’ll get you back to your Mom, o.k.?” Mike nodded and sipped on his water, never taking his eyes from Ringo as he continued to sob.
In the bedroom, Nosey quickly secured the Judge to the chair. “You’re going to regret you ever lived when we get done with you. We’ve got a wood chipper planned for your future, or maybe a concrete grave. Or, maybe alligator bait would be a suitable demise. No, you’re too nasty for a gator”. And, he laughed heartily.
Part
VII February 2013
March 2013
As he
watched the video, he began to shake. The Judge had never in his life
been so terrified. He knew they wouldn’t understand it if he tried
to explain. They would think he was a pervert, a man getting excited
by little boys. It was sick, they would say. But, he couldn’t help
himself. The sweet, soft skin. The beautiful, young eyes. The
carefree way they moved. The dirt under their fingernails and the
tousle of their soft, silky hair. It’s what brought him excitement;
it’s what he lived for. He knew it was wrong in the eyes of
society, so very wrong. But, it wasn’t like he hurt any of them. He
loved each one of them, and some of them, he thought, acted as though
they loved him too, and they enjoyed it. But now, his life was in
shambles. Everything had changed. That damned Congressman. He would
have to leave his life of a judge now, and live the life of a
fugitive. The Judge went to the closet and got a suitcase. He threw
in just the bare necessities, just enough to get him through for a
couple of days. He had planned for this day, and there was always a
stash of cash in the hallway safe. After packing, he went to the safe
and took out the fake documents he had prepared for just this
instance: the fake passport and fake ID card. He grabbed the cash
and counted; $50,000 ought to do it. Next he called the airline and
reserved his first class seat. It wouldn’t be so bad to start a new
life in his favorite city. He had visited Berlin many times as he
formulated his plans. He had a flat in the city, and it was being
taken care of by a young college student, Brian. Brian adored the
judge, he thought, and would be happy to see him. He had met the
smart young boy at Centenary College in Shreveport when he was the
guest speaker at commencement ceremonies four years ago. Brian was
the valedictorian and had high hopes of becoming a world traveler. He
wanted to go to Europe to study, but was only going to make those
dreams come true with a little help. He had applied for scholarships
and been accepted at Humboldt University of Berlin, the very same
university attended by Albert Einstein, and Karl Marx. Brian would
study philosophy and romance literature. He aspired to be a famous
novelist and philosopher, not unlike Marx. In the United States he
would leave a mother, a stepfather, and two siblings, all living
barely above the poverty level. But, not for long. Brian would be
the first of his family to be educated, and he would not forget his
family. He was in a position now to help them out. So what if he
had to participate in unsavory sexual favors with the Judge. He could
do almost anything, as long as it helped to further his goals, which
were firmly planted in his mind. When he was first approached by the
Judge concerning his relationship and the work he would do for him,
he didn’t hesitate, and agreed to the conditions. The Judge would
pay for the portion of his education which was not covered by
scholarships, living expenses, and provide a healthy stipend on top
of that to assist with everyday needs. And, in return, Brian was
required to maintain the flat in a livable condition, ready for the
Judge at any time. The Judge had visited twice in the first year to
inspect the place and once each year thereafter. It had been four
years, and Brian was now working at the institute as a professor in
the Philosophy department, earning a doctorate. Brian also handled
the judge’s money laundering needs and was able to transfer large
sums out of his U.S. accounts to accounts in the Cayman Islands.
Brian didn’t ask where the money came from, but he had his
suspicions. The judge had just called and asked him to transfer one
quarter million dollars to an account in Berlin. The benefit to Brian
was that he had access to the books and could scrape off a modest
amount and divert it to his own accounts unbeknownst to the judge.
He had the full trust of the judge, and would do anything to maintain
that trust.There was
only one problem, but Brian thought he could handle it. Brian was
seeing a young lady, Richello, who had flowing ebony hair, soft skin,
luscious hips enveloping a flat stomach and rich red lips. She was
part French, part Spanish, and he delighted in her beauty and enjoyed
their sexual liaisons. But, mostly he enjoyed her simple friendship,
her soft touch when she brushed her long fingers across his hand or
arm, and her laughter. She was a happy person who always looked at
the glass as half full, rather than half empty. She always had a
smile and something nice to say to everyone she came in contact with.
Now Brian would have to tell her that the Judge was expected home.
Brian was in love with Richollo and he had told her all about the
Judge. Well, not everything. She knew that he was an older man, a
prominent Judge in the United States. She knew that he paid much of
Brian’s living and education expenses. But, she didn’t know about
the sex or the money laundering, and she couldn’t find out. She
simply thought the Judge was a rich man who had taken a liking to
Brian and was his benefactor.
October
1995
Deidre had
been home for several months and was building a relationship with
Memphis, her only son. They would sit under the large oak tree, the
same tree where he had learned the truth about his mother from the
three boys, Thomas, Eddy and James. Deidre read stories to Memphis,
and read his favorite to him, Where the Red Fern Grows. “It’s one
of my favorites, too, Memphis,” she said. “Wouldn’t you just
love to have a dog like Old Dan or Little Ann? I promise you one day,
you will.” And she bent over and kissed him on his forehead.
Memphis Charlie Cash was a happy little boy. That was until she spoke
the words that changed his life, yet again. “We’re moving,
Memphis. Mommy’s got a job in Shreveport at the GM Plant and it
pays very well. You’re going to meet your Grandma, honey.” He
shook his head “no” as she continued. “As soon as we get there,
we’re going to the animal shelter, and I’m going to get that dog
for you.” He looked at her with wide eyes, and she nodded “yes”.
“He smiled, “oh, thank you”, and then he frowned, “but, we’ll
have to leave Miss Meka and John. Can they come too?”
“No,
honey. I’m sorry. They can’t. But they’ll come for visits and
we’ll visit them, too. Dwight and John arranged a transfer of
parole for me, and we’ll have to check in with them. We’ll write
letters and send cards. They can’t get rid of us that easily. And,
Miss Meka is going to come stay the summer and help us get settled
in.” She was talking fast and trying to convince herself as much
as Memphis. “Maybe we can come back for Christmas. Look at me,
Memphis.” She cupped his small face in her hand, resting it just
under his chin. She looked him directly in the eyes. “Son, it’s
just you and me, and we’re getting a fresh start; it’ll be okay,
you’ll see.” She planted a kiss on his forehead and pulled his
body close to give him a motherly hug. A small tear ran down
Memphis’ face, but he drew away from her and bravely said “Okay,
Mom, just you and me”, “and my new dog”, he added. She nodded
as her own tears flowed. It was the first time he had called her
“Mom.” Everything was going to be okay.
March,
2014
Bomber had
just arrived to work on the flight line. As he was checking out his
tools, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to look and saw both
the Commander and First Sergeant standing in front of him, arms
crossed. “Shit,” he thought, “what did I do now?” “Airman
Owens,” the Shirt said. Tommy set his tools down and came to
attention, “Yes, sir.” He saluted the officer, who nonchalantly
returned it. “Sergeant Owens, I don’t know how you did it, but
the below the zone board has reported their results.” The Commander
stepped forward, a wide grin on his face as he handed the Staff
Sergeant Stripes to the Senior Airman. Tommy’s mouth dropped open.
He didn’t know how he did it either. Those tests were not easy and
he hadn’t studied. There must be some dumb asses in this Air Force
if I made it, he thought. The Shirt punched him in the arm where the
new stripes would be sewn, and shook his hand. “Congratulations,
son. You just earned the status of an NCO (Non commissioned officer),
and the boss here – he pointed to the Commander – is putting you
in charge of the night shift.”
There was
a party for Bomber that weekend at the Clubhouse. “How’d you do
it Dumb Ass?” Ringo asked as he raised his beer to toast the newly
appointed Staff Sergeant. “Been sucking the commander’s dick?”
“Ha, ha,” Bomber replied, “just like I sucked yours to get this
patch on my back”. The brothers laughed heartily. The celebrations
were interrupted when a prospect Lou through the clubhouse door
screaming, “Ringo, we’ve got trouble. Hell’s Prospects--two of
the assholes showed up outside and thought they were just going to
sneak in. But, I saw them. I had walked around the building to take a
leak, and heard them approaching. I sneaked up behind them. Two
shots, Ringo. Two shots with the silencer on, and they’re both
lying deader than doorknobs. What are we going to do? What are we
going to do?” “Calm down now, Prospect.” Ringo nodded to his
SA. “Come on, let’s go check this out. Bomber, Prospect, let’s
go. Everyone else, stay right here.” The four men headed out the
front door and saw the two men lying in twin pools of blood. “OK,”
Ringo said. “Bomber, call the cleaner. You’re a Staff Sergeant
now. Put that government training to work and take care of this. I
want this mess out of here and quick. Drag ‘em to the side of the
building for now, and make sure no one else sees this. “There were
more, Ringo,” the prospect said. I heard and saw two bikes speeding
away after I fired the shots, Dan went after them.” Just then the
prospect, Dan, pulled up on his bike. “I couldn’t catch them, but
they went east on 20. They weren’t Hells Prospects, Ringo. They
were Savage Irons, the black club. What the hell, Ringo? What’s
going on? Why do we have Hells Prospects MC and the Savage Iron MC
working together, working against us?” He ran his fingers through
his hair. “I’m done with this shit! I’m out of here.”
“Calm
down,” Ringo said. “Dan, if you leave, you’re out in bad. You
don’t want that, do you? You won’t be able to ride anywhere in
this town. There will be some who would rather see you dead. Just
keep your calm. We’re going to figure this out, and it will be
okay. Your brothers have got your back, man. That’s what this is
all about. Love, loyalty and respect. We stick together and nobody
leaves. Get in my office now. Shank, help Bomber. We’ve got to get
rid of these bodies, and get the bikes in the enclosed trailer. We’ll
grind off the serial numbers and make some dough off their bikes.
Come on, Dan. Let’s go.
”October
1995
It was a
beautiful, sunny summer day in Nashville. The car was packed and
hitched to a small U-Haul loaded with all their worldly belongings.
Deidre was inside taking one last look around the guest house, making
certain she hadn’t left anything behind. She placed an envelope on
the dresser in the room she had been staying in. Inside was a
thank-you note to Tomeka and John and the papers that Dwight had
drawn up. It was a will, one that directed if anything were to happen
to Deidre, Memphis would be returned to Tomeka and John’s custody.
She wouldn’t want her freakish Pentecostal mom taking over
responsibility for raising the boy. After all, she couldn’t control
Deidre when she was a young girl. She didn’t trust her with
Memphis. Deidre was excited to start her new life in Shreveport, but
she was apprehensive about asking her mother for help. She would have
to listen to the preaching, how she could ask for forgiveness and
gain salvation, how she could redeem herself for the murder. Her
mother didn’t want to hear that it was self-defense. A woman should
love, honor and obey her husband, no matter the circumstances. It was
going to be a hard adjustment. But, she didn’t have any choice. She
needed a place to stay, and she needed her mother’s help until she
and Memphis could get settled and get a place of their own. While
Deidre was inside, little Charlie was outside. He had one thing to do
before he left this place for good. He was looking for Thomas. He was
going to have his revenge. Charlie went to the big house and slid
through the front door. He tiptoed up the stairs, and stopped when
they creaked. There was no response. No one had heard him, so he
continued to climb. Just outside the door, he gathered his courage
and quietly turned the knob. Charlie stepped inside and fat, pimply
faced Thomas, sitting on his bed, responded. “What are you doing
here? Get the hell out. Mom, Mom!” he hollered. There was no
answer. They were alone in the house. Thomas cringed as Charlie
stepped toward him. Charlie was about to begin his life of crime.
Thomas was going to be his first victim. But it would look like a
suicide. Charlie would smile as he got into the car, looked up at
the window of Thomas’ bedroom and remembered him lying in the
bathtub, his wrists slashed and his face floating underneath the
water line. He got what he deserved. When the rich bitch found her
only son, she would be devastated. But, she would be better off
without that piece of trash bully who would otherwise have grown up
to be a fat, whining, rich asshole. He had done her a favor, he
thought. Charlie
was wearing the thin plastic pair of gloves that he had stolen from a
box of Miss Clairol hair dye in his mom’s closet. He had the gun
that John kept hidden, but he knew he wasn’t going to use it. He
was only going to point it at Thomas to scare him, to make him write
the suicide note, and to coax him into the bathtub. It had all gone
as planned. Once the note was written, under duress, he forced Thomas
to undress and get into the tub full of water. Tears streamed down
the boy’s face, and he begged and cried, “I’m sorry, Charlie, I
didn’t mean it. Please don’t hurt me,” he blubbered. Then
Charlie surprised him with his strength as he set the gun aside and
forced the fat kid’s head under the water. There was a lot of
kicking and struggling, but Charlie’s push-ups, pull-ups, and time
spent lifting weights in John’s basement gym had paid off. The
fat, slovenly Thomas was no match for Charlie, and it was only a
short time before he inhaled lungs full of water and became still.
Charlie quickly cleaned up the water that had splashed on the floor
and walls during the drowning, and then took the razor blade and
placed it in Thomas’s fingers to get prints on it. He then slashed
each wrist and stayed long enough to watch the water turn red with
blood. Satisfied, he removed the gloves, placed them in his pocket
and quietly left the house, down the stairs the same way he came. He
would discard the gloves at a gas station along the way to
Shreveport. But, first he had to say his goodbyes to John. Dwight was
there too, and Charlie considered them all family. He was going to
miss them, but now, hew was ready to start his new life in
Shreveport, and he was glad that Miss Meka was coming for a little
while. His mom was right to take him away and let them start over. He
wondered what they would think if they knew what he had just done.
He wondered what they would think when the body was found. Would
they still love him? He wondered how Deidre had felt when she had
killed his dad. Now he was a killer too, just like his mother. But he
would not get caught. He would not go to jail, like she had. Charlie
hugged John and shook Dwight’s hand. “See you later,Alligator,”
he said as he waved and walked toward the car. “After while,
Crocodile,” John said as he wiped a tear from his eye, remembering
the many times before that they had the same exchange.
March 2014
Bomber
watched Airman Shelly Wright as she walked into the hangar. She was
young and beautiful. He was going to tap that. Now that he was a full
patched club member, had been promoted to NCO and was in charge of
the night shift, he felt a considerable and overwhelming power.
Airman Wright was married and had a 9 month old baby at home, but
that didn’t matter. The way she looked at him, Bomber knew she
wanted him, too. No one was around so he took the opportunity to hit
on her. “Hey Shelly, how you doing?” “Alright, Sarge,” she
smiled, “what’s up?” “We’re all alone tonight, Shelly.
There’s no planes to work on, and we have a long night to pass. I
was thinking...” She cut him off. Shelly walked toward Bomber and
grabbed his package with her right hand as she moved close to him.
She reached inside her fatigue pocket with her left hand and pulled
out a rolled joint. She held it up so he could see and he took her
into his arms. “It’s going to be a good night,” he said. And he
kissed her. It was a long, lust filled kiss, and she melted in his
arms.
Part VIII Published April 2013
Available in the April 2013 edition of Pinky's Passion Motorcycle Travel Magazine. Buy here
