Roll Me Away: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel (2 page)

“
I
don’t like it
. Pug, you gave your fucking two cents’ worth. What do the others say?” My crew was about to mutiny, and I knew why. I just hadn’t been able to do anything about it yet.

“Jake, you know they don’t like to go up against you. But let’s face facts. We’re short of cash. Your cartel contact hasn’t come through. We’re just about out of options. And my dad said if we go back and ask nice, Smokey’s inclined to let us back in.”

“You want to go back to that old bastard with your fucking tail between your legs instead of your balls? He’s fucking on his way out, and the businesses with him. You want to get along on what we can hustle on the side, or you want to fucking make a name for ourselves, form a new club, and earn some fucking respect around here?” Watching his face while I spoke, I knew the answer before he had a chance to open his mouth.

“Jake, come on. You know we’re behind you. But we’ve gotta do something now. Sturgis is coming up, and you know we can’t pull off anything without the rest of the club. We don’t even have a plan for…”

“All right, all right. I’ll fucking go to Dad and Smokey. But I ain’t givin’ up the idea, and if you four aren’t with me, then I’ll fucking find someone who is.”

Pug hung his head. “We’re with you, Jake. But thanks, man. We need this.”

It didn’t sit right. The five of us had resigned from our dads’ club a few weeks back, with a plan to get into protection and develop our own club. We’d been fighting about the name and mascot ever since, and my contact in Sinaloa hadn’t returned my texts.

Now we were broke, not even enough fucking cash to go down to Colorado and pick up some commercial shit to sell up here. We had to go back to work, and the Dust Devil businesses were the only work around here.

Not to mention, we were all horny as shit. We’d left the Bunnies behind – nowhere to put them up. We were used to getting action on the job, too, as actors in the skin flick business that was the main money-maker for the Devils. I had to admit I missed it after a few weeks. Even if I was tired of the same pussies, tits, and asses after all this time.

So my crew was right. We had to go back, but it left a bad taste in my mouth. I needed a way to do it on our terms. And Sturgis was the key. The old geezers needed us as bad as we needed them for our annual run and raid on the ignorant and foolish civilians who funded us to the tune of up to fifty-thousand or so a year in stolen and chopped Harleys.

Someone had to ride them back to Wyoming. Someone had to distract the marks. It took all of us to get the five or six we picked out each year.

The key was my dad. As VP, he carried some weight. He’d get us back in, but before I talked to him about it, I had to figure an angle that made it look like
we
were doing
them
a favor. Otherwise, we’d just be their fucking bitches, and I was not down with that. I told the crew to give me a few days and I’d have them begging us to come back. If I couldn’t pull this off, I’d be in deep shit, with my crew as well as in general.

I started with the Bunnies. One specifically, because she had the hots for me. Always trying to get me to make her my old lady, but that shit wasn’t happening. She was fine to fuck, but not for my name. That didn’t stop me from using her for my needs, and it had been awhile.

Bethanne would do anything I asked if I just gave her the time of day. Too bad I couldn’t do it on the phone, but one problem with living in the fucking back of nowhere was shitty cell service. More than half the time, my phone had no signal, and this was one of those times.

The ride to the compound from Rawlins should have taken about an hour and a half, but the road from the highway to the property was a nightmare of ruts from the wet spring. Now they were like gigantic railroad tracks and hard as granite. It was a sign of how tight money was – the road should have been graded before it dried and baked in the summer sun, but it hadn’t. Now we had to put up with this shit all summer. Or
they
did. I might have to return to the club to make a fucking living, but I fucking refused to live with my old man and his old lady. I’d stay in Rawlins.

When I got to the compound, I stopped at the convenience store to ask if anyone had seen Bethanne, and the brother behind the counter pointed me to a crappy trailer park about two blocks away. “First one on the left,” he said, drawing a sour look from the woman coming out of the back with a box of chips for the display. Must have been his old lady, not amused he knew where one of the club tramps lived.

A couple minutes later, I knocked on her door. “Coming,” she hollered from inside. I grinned.

“That sounds familiar,” I teased. A second later, she threw open the door and pretended astonishment, her hands clasped to her heart.

“As I live and breathe, it’s Jake the Snake,” she simpered. Her fake smile turned into a broad real one as she pulled me inside and slammed the door.

Next thing I knew, she was all over me, her tongue halfway down my throat. I grabbed her ass with both hands and jammed her up against me so she could feel the hard length I was nicknamed for.

“Fuckin’ A, baby,” I growled. With this girl, I was going to have to settle her down before she’d be able to hear a word I said, and there was only one way to do that. I muscled her back toward her flowered sofa, pulling her blouse out of her belted waistband as I went.

Her hands were as busy as mine, and she got my t-shirt off of me before I got the blouse off of her, but not much before. With a practiced flick of my fingers and wrist, her bra came unhooked and big, luscious tits spilled out. Who cared if they were enhanced? The nipples still worked, peaking into hard nubs as I flicked them with my thumb.

She landed hard on the sofa, tugging me down with her and arching her back so I could get the best angle on her tits with my tongue and lips. “Pants,” she gasped.

I didn’t know if she meant hers or mine, but it didn’t matter. As soon as I backed away from her to shuck mine off, she wriggled out of hers and lay fully nude on the sofa, one leg propped up on the back and the other dangling toward the floor to give me full access. While I finger-fucked her to get her ready for the main event, she lunged forward and grabbed my dick. The first warm, wet kiss on the tip caused me to throb with anticipation, before she took most of my length down her throat. Damn, I’d missed that.

I leaned over, forcing her to lie back with my hands on her shoulders as I fucked her mouth. I looked down to watch her swallow my dick and found her looking up at me with adoration. To show her who was boss, I yanked out of her mouth and in one smooth motion, slammed into her pussy.

“Aaaaaahhhh!” she cried. Her hips bucked, meeting me thrust for thrust. It wouldn’t have surprised me if we knocked the trailer off its blocks. We went at it like it had been three years instead of three weeks. I watched her face closely.

I could tell when these whores faked an orgasm, but I wanted Bethanne to have a real one, or maybe two, so she’d be eager to do anything I asked of her afterward. When her eyelids began to flutter and her eyes rolled back in her head, I knew I’d done it. Now I could let go.

Minutes later, when I’d caught my breath and rolled off her, she sucked in a big breath of her own. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi, yourself, baby. You need to do something for me and the boys.”

W
hen we got to Sturgis
, I forgot all about my misgivings about being here with the family and looked around in awe. Everywhere my eyes wandered, there were crowds of people, and especially knots of similarly-dressed men in cuts with patches all over them.

Young, old, skinny, fat, just right, biceps cut like diamonds, long hair, short hair, tats – it was a feast of the senses, and my eyes were naturally drawn to the tastiest morsels. I was partial to the guys wearing no shirts under their cuts, with big arms nicely inked. Tight jeans didn’t hurt, either. Practically drooling, I told myself to rein it in before my parents got a clue I wasn’t as reluctant to be here as I’d pretended.

I caught a break on the sleeping arrangements, too. Mom and Dad, thinking they’d like to have some alone time – which made me gag – had brought pup tents for my brother and sister. Rightly believing I’d scream bloody murder if they stuck me in a tent, I was in a cheap motel a couple of blocks away.

Could anything have been more perfect? Of course, it meant I’d be hosting everyone for their showers every day, which might have been their thinking, actually. But that was a small price to pay.

When I stopped to think about it, it was ridiculous that I was putting this much importance on keeping my parents in the dark. I was twenty-two, after all. They had no say in what I did, but something in my upbringing told me it would be disrespectful to behave in a way I knew they wouldn’t like right under their noses when this trip was on their dime.

Even if it hadn’t been, I loved them enough not to want to flaunt my sexuality in their faces. They didn’t need to know I hadn’t ‘saved myself for marriage’ or that I’d recently broken up with a nice man I’d thought I might marry.

I must have known all along that he wasn’t exciting enough for me. I hadn’t told my family about him, even though we dated for over a year. I’d refused to meet his family. It hurt him, and I was sorry, but it seemed like more of a commitment than I was ready for. He was sweet, but the sex was…tame. Unsatisfying somehow, even though he gave me orgasms. Something was missing.

I finally figured out what it was when I accidentally stumbled across a triple-X preview online while researching, of all things, Hummers. Silly me – I forgot to capitalize.

Of course, I wasn’t completely ignorant of oral sex. To my boyfriend’s great discomfort, I’d even tried fellatio, but his discomfort transferred to me, and it wasn’t a great experience for either of us.

What I saw on that screen was about as far removed from what we’d done as you could get. With my heart pounding, I watched the video all the way through, and found my panties wet when it ended.

Holy shit! I wanted some of
that
kind of action. A guy who knew what he wanted and took it. A guy who could make my blood sing. My boyfriend, I should have known, was horrified. When I asked for more excitement and described some of the acts I’d seen, he dumped me, but like a wimp would.

“You watched
porn
? Cricket, I’m just not sure we’re right for each other.”

Damn straight. He certainly wasn’t right for me. We agreed to be friends. Last time I looked, I was banned from posting to his Facebook timeline. No loss for me, now that I knew I wanted more.

The guys I saw all around Sturgis looked like they could definitely give me what I was looking for, but what were
the
y looking for? I didn’t look anything like the women hanging on their arms, or draped over their backs on their motorcycles.

Compared to the biker babes, I looked like … my little sister. Somehow, I had to lose the ‘wholesome’ image while staying out of the slutty range, for my parents’ sake.

I unpacked my bag, eying each piece of clothing I’d brought with me for its potential to catch the notice of one of the hot guys I’d seen wandering the streets. I’d save the cargo shorts for one of Dad’s planned outings into the surrounding countryside.

The bikini would make an appearance at a nearby lake as soon as I’d made a friend with a car, or better yet, a motorcycle. It was too hot for the jeans, but maybe I could sacrifice them as cutoffs. They were old. I’d wait until I got a better look at the girls who were with those guys now and decide then. I’d have to buy some scissors or borrow a knife or something to do it, anyway.

Once I’d hung up my clothes or put them in the drawers of the shitty furniture in this crappy hotel room, I took the opportunity to escape without my family in tow and walk around the streets some.

Among the crowds, I saw people from every walk of life. The ones my eyes lingered on were dangerous-looking men in biker cuts. They had fierce eyes and fierce smiles. A couple stared at me openly and grinned. I hoped the look I gave them back was not so much ‘deer in the headlights’ as ‘take me, I’m yours’. But evidently it wasn’t, since no one claimed me.

As the afternoon wore on, I started learning to differentiate between the AMA clubs, the outlaw clubs, and the wannabes just by the way they dressed and the patches on the cuts that some of them wore.

I got some ideas about what to buy to look more like the type of girl looking for a good time with the outlaws, too, if I could find any place in town with what I wanted. First order of business, a leather vest. Then some boots, some tank tops, and maybe I’d see if I could find some jeans that were already artfully ripped or cut off.

Before I could do any of that, though, I had to round up my siblings and head for the RV park where Mom and Dad were no doubt waiting for us to all show up for dinner.

I had to stop coming back to this mental space of hating I was here with the family, or I was going to have a miserable time. But I’d have given anything to snag one of the unattached bikers from one of the outlaw clubs and rock his world by asking him to show me his dark side.

S
arge took
me to the club compound, a small town, really, but with no name. It was a gathering of small houses, a trailer park, a strip of commercial establishments with a small grocery store, a drugstore, a laundry, and a gas station. After we’d passed by these features, we came to a larger building.

“This is the clubhouse. You’ll bunk here until you’re patched in, and then you can decide where you want to stay. I recommend you save your money for a house and get an old lady and settle down, but that’s down the road a bit.”

I must have looked confused, because he said, “What?”

“I thought the roadhouse was the clubhouse.”

“Nah. We have meetings there sometimes, especially when Smokey needs to be there. This is the clubhouse. It’s got bunks in private rooms, a bar and rec room, and we have church here every day at nine a.m. before Smokey heads for the roadhouse.

“Until you start earning your own money, you’ll sleep here and eat here. Just have one of the Bunnies or Mom make you something, anything you want. Your job for now is to do whatever one of the Originals tells you to, and not ask questions.

“You can take a Bunny to bed if there’s a spare. Patches get first pick, so be respectful. Pecking order is this: the Prez, then VP, then me, then any other Original, then any patch, then you or any other prospect, then Mom, then Bunnies.”

“Your mom…”

“Not my mom, moron.
Mom
. If you were in a frat, she’d be the housemother. She’s an old bird, widow of a brother. We take care of her, she takes care of us. Any other dumb questions?”

I had a few, but from the sound of it I’d better keep them to myself for now. “No, sir.”

“Good. Ask Mom where you can bunk. I’ll see you at church in the morning.”

Church. I’d be there. I’d never been to church in my life, but if they wanted me to get religion, I’d get religion. What sounded better was a Bunny in my bed. I guessed he meant like Playboy Bunnies. If they had them here, I was damn glad they’d invited me to join.

Sarge didn’t come in with me, so I stepped in carefully, looking around to be sure I didn’t run into trouble. Half a dozen or so men in Devil cuts played pool or sat with a beer at hand in the smoky room I took to be the rec room Sarge told me about. Most of them ignored me. One got up and came to meet me.

“What’s your business here?” he said.

I stood straighter for the second time that day and looked him in the eye. “Sarge said to ask Mom where I could bunk.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. A new prospect?” he asked. I didn’t answer. “Hey, guys. We got us a new prospect. Come say hello.”

They weren’t overly friendly, but they didn’t offer to hand me my ass, either. I made sure to look each of them in the eye.

“Zach,” I said.

One by one they introduced themselves, nodding at me or fist-bumping me. When the ritual was over, most of them went back to their previous occupations. Rock, the one who’d greeted me first, said, “Come on, I’ll take you to Mom.”

He led me into a side passage with doors off both sides of the hallway. The bunkhouse area, I assumed. At the end of the hall, he knocked on the last door. “Come,” said a feminine voice.

We went inside to find ‘Mom’ tucked up in an easy chair, her bare feet on an ottoman. I figured her for late sixties, but she was nobody’s idea of a cuddly grandma. For one thing, her scrawny arms were a mass of ink.

“Mom, this is Zach, a new prospect. He’s hungry.” Rock hadn’t bothered to ask if I was hungry, but he was right. It was long past dinnertime, and I’d missed mine. Pretzels and beer weren’t a good substitute.

“You okay with a sandwich, Zach?” she asked. I looked at Rock, who nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered. Rock’s mouth dropped open, and Mom cackled.

“First time anyone’s called me ma’am since I don’t know when,” she observed. “I’m gonna like you, boy.” She got out of her chair with more ease than I’d have thought, and led the way to the kitchen with a large attached dining area. “Sit down. I’ll have your dinner ready in a minute.”

Rock gave me a tight nod and left. I didn’t know what I should have expected, but being left more or less on my own was unsettling. I remembered I was supposed to ask Mom where to bunk, so when she brought me a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with a side of fresh-cooked home fries, that’s what I did. Right after stuffing a piping-hot mouthful of delectable fries into my mouth. I’d expected bologna on white, with potato chips if I was lucky. I guess it was a good move to ‘ma’am’ her.

“You can have Pug’s old room,” she said. “He’s been gone three weeks. Don’t reckon he’ll be needin’ it anymore.”

“Pug died?” I asked, shocked. Pug was one of the younger members I knew. He and his friend Snail were the ones I’d told I was interested in joining.

“Died? Hell, no. Fool kid left the club, chasin’ after that young hotshot Jake. Three others, too. Snail, Gears, and Hoss.”

I didn’t know what to say. I knew all of those guys. They were about my age, or a year or two older. I’d expected to earn their friendship by joining the club. Now they were gone? What had I got myself into?

Mom read my confusion and patted me on the shoulder. “Never mind, honey. It’s an advantage. You’re about the only man your age in the place now, and most of the rest of ‘em are married or hooked up to old ladies. Good-lookin’ boy like you, the Bunnies are gonna eat you up.”

I felt the heat creep up my neck and enter my face just before Mom started cackling again.

“You’re blushing! Oh, man, have you got some stuff to learn.”

“What?”

“Never you mind. All in good time. You done with that? Then skedaddle. I’ll clean up, but you need to go back out there and let ‘em see the cut of your jib.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but obediently I went back to the rec room. Once there, I started getting used to the haze-filled gloom and noticed the girls. Hell, yes! Maybe four of them circulating, rubbing up against the men, offering to bring them drinks, and in one case, apparently giving head in the corner to a guy with a glazed look in his eye.

The numbers didn’t look good at the moment. I counted. Four girls, six other guys, and me. Remembering Sarge’s rundown of the pecking order, I figured I’d go to bed alone or get sloppy seconds at best.

One of the guys motioned me over to a pool table. “Let’s see what you got, Prospect,” he said, handing me a cue. “Why don’t you break?”

By the time I’d won that game and another with one of the others, the guys were slapping me on the back and calling me Zach instead of Prospect. Two had disappeared, and when I asked, the remaining ones snickered something about pussy-whipped and gone home.

Now the numbers looked a lot better.

A
couple
of beers and another fuck later, I was sure Bethanne had it down. She was to tell Sarge I was open to talks about Sturgis and our mutual interests. I put my phone number in her cell phone and told her if she called me for any other reason than to set up a meet with the Devils, I’d beat her ass bloody. I’d call her when I wanted her – she wasn’t to disrespect me by calling me.

I headed back to Rawlins, cussing the fucking rutted road for the first half-hour. By the time I got to the highway, it was dark. I opened it up, running about ninety on the dark highway. This was the part I fucking loved about the life – the wind in my face, the open road, and no one to answer to. Out here, there weren’t even any Highway Patrol to bother me. I made Rawlins in forty-five minutes and blew into the apartment I shared with Pug.

Snail, Gears, and Hoss had the unit next door, but there they were in our living room, sprawled all over the furniture along with Pug, and all high. I nearly got a contact high from the thick fog of weed myself.

“Give me some of that shit.”

Pug handed over a blunt without a word. I took a drag and held it. When I was ready to exhale, I let them know Bethanne was down with the errand I’d given her.

“You fuck her?” Hoss asked. I always suspected he was partial to her, but there was no belligerence or disrespect in his voice.

“Fuck, yes. You gotta fuck that woman senseless before she can understand a fucking thing you’re saying,” I answered.

The others nodded their heads. We’d all had her – they understood what I meant.

I
woke
up in my own bed the next morning, still dressed. Damn, that had been good shit. I pulled out my cell phone and discovered I’d let the battery run down. Fuck.

I plugged in the phone and got an immediate message about a missed call. It was Bethanne’s number, so either we had a meet or I was gonna have to go back to the compound and beat her ass like I’d promised. Lucky for her, it was the meet. I looked at the time. Shit. I had forty minutes to get to the roadhouse.

I stumbled out the bedroom door and tripped over Hoss, lying across my doorway. I kicked him. “The fuck you doin’?”

“Dunno.”

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

He rolled over to the other side of the hall, and I stomped past him. I grabbed a cold slice of pizza off the counter as I passed, and left the apartment. It was going to be tight.

I grinned as I thought about the civilians I’d be passing. Just the thought of the rush of fear they’d feel as I weaved in and out of what was usually bumper-to-bumper traffic on I-80 gave me a boner. This was going to be fun.

H
alf an hour later
, I slowed down as I approached the roadhouse. I parked the Harley and pulled out my cell, then leaned against the saddle for a few. I wanted to be exactly five minutes late for the meet. Just enough to say I was my own man and didn’t answer to Smokey or anyone else, but not enough to be an ass. Or not much of one, anyway.

There was a fine line between letting them know who I was and being insultingly disrespectful. I estimated that line was drawn right at five minutes.

Exactly five minutes past the meeting time Sarge had set, I walked through the front door of the roadhouse. A few stragglers from breakfast were lingering over coffee, but the few bikes in the lot had already told me it was mostly the officers I’d be meeting with. That was fine. They were the decision-makers anyway.

I walked through the bar area and back to the meeting room, where I found the door open. Smokey spotted me right away.

“Come on in, Jake,” he said.

I walked in with a swagger, looking around the table to see who was there. Smokey, of course. My dad, who nodded at me. Sarge, Doc, and a kid I knew from somewhere. WTF? Then it hit me. Carl’s kid, from the chop shop. What was he doing here? And wearing a cut, no less?

He must be a prospect, and I could think of only one reason he’d be in this meeting. They must be trying to show me they didn’t need us. Well, kid or no kid, they were wrong.

“Smokey. Sarge. Doc. Good to see you. Hi, Dad.”

No one smiled. The kid, whose name I couldn’t quite call to mind, was standing. Good. He hadn’t earned a seat at the table, which meant he was so new he was still wet behind the ears. I nodded at him, and took a seat, looking over at Smokey as I sat down. An expression of annoyance crossed his face, but I’d made my point. I waited for him to speak first.

“Jake. For your dad’s sake, we’re gonna set aside the disrespect you and your buddies showed the club. Sarge tells us we got some mutual interests, your crew and the Devils. Whatcha got in mind?”

I hadn’t studied these geezers my whole life for nothing. I knew the first to make an offer loses, so I kept my mouth shut, staring Smokey down. He waited a few minutes, until the kid got nervous and shifted.

“All right, this is going nowhere,” Smokey continued. “So I’ll lay in on the line. You kids fucked up. You think you cain’t be replaced, and you waltz in here actin’ like your shit don’t stink. Say hello to Zach Hayes. He’s gonna do somethin’ for us in Sturgis. Then he’s comin’ back here to audition. Get it? You can be replaced. Now, if you want to climb down off that high horse and show some respect, we may be able to do bizness. Your call.”

I won’t lie – it pushed my buttons. This wasn’t going the way I expected, but it was critical I get this deal done, or I was done, and I knew it. I glanced at Dad. He had that stubborn look on his face I knew meant he wasn’t about to give me an inch. Fuck it, the time to negotiate was past. Never had been possible, now I thought about it. I’d fucked up, and now all I could do was try to save face.

“Smokey, we never meant disrespect. You, Dad, and all of you built something good here, and we appreciate it. It’s just, we could see times getting tough. We wanted to try something to bring in some scratch.”

“How’s that workin’ out fer ya?”

Shit. I had nothing to say to that. “It’s taking a little longer than we expected.”

He could have gone on, and completely humiliated me in front of my dad, the prospect, and the others. I saw the glance he cut at my dad before he went on.

“You ready to re-join, or are we talkin’ about a mutual job between two clubs?”