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Having a large d1ck has its downfall. It made me worried about hurting a woman. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. But I found Maxine. I liked the fact that she was teasing me. I liked that she wasn’t chasing or afraid of me. "Can I kiss you?” I asked. I can’t say why, but this girl gets to me—breaking down the barriers I had put up. “I have just left a bad relationship-you may have heard that my boyfriend cheated on me with my sister, not in a hurry to start another.” It might not be the words I want to hear, but it made me feel a bit better. “I want to tear him limb from limb. Then being my girl will protect you.” I nuzzled her ear, and she wiggled on my lap, making my semi harder. Better not do that again. “Let me think about it,” she replied. Maxine didn’t move off my lap. The way her b^tt- cheeks moved on my semi, had it hardening soi far that my jeans got tight, and I thought I was going to explode right then and there, it have been a while since a girl managed to make me this close to coming with no effort at all. Just being herself was all it took. She will be mine. ****** Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically urged me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him a special gift. I had brought new, cute clothes, and I cleaned up. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were together, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did something in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend and take me out on dates, as if that never happened. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating man? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had had a relationship with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her pregnancy. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did that with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of drinks and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been with Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my innocence was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying herself suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a drink they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a drink from one of the guys. She was not a drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys walked to me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the chair with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was about one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lippie, which is more to moisturize, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a greeting nod and moved to take a look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do a paint job, and possibly a full one. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit had another meaning. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we walked to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, snugged to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t reach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t have a relationship with a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then abandoned her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who wanted me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man. And I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not yet, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten on well with Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick stay around our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and end the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink something to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank was beside me, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door, waiting to get in, were busy welcoming patch members. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
Having a large d1ck has its downfall. It made me worried about hurting a woman. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. But I found Maxine. I liked the fact that she was teasing me. I liked that she wasn’t chasing or afraid of me. "Can I kiss you?” I asked. I can’t say why, but this girl gets to me—breaking down the barriers I had put up. “I have just left a bad relationship-you may have heard that my boyfriend cheated on me with my sister, not in a hurry to start another.” It might not be the words I want to hear, but it made me feel a bit better. “I want to tear him limb from limb. Then being my girl will protect you.” I nuzzled her ear, and she wiggled on my lap, making my semi harder. Better not do that again. “Let me think about it,” she replied. Maxine didn’t move off my lap. The way her b^tt- cheeks moved on my semi, had it hardening soi far that my jeans got tight, and I thought I was going to explode right then and there, it have been a while since a girl managed to make me this close to coming with no effort at all. Just being herself was all it took. She will be mine. ****** Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically urged me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him a special gift. I had brought new, cute clothes, and I cleaned up. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were together, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did something in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend and take me out on dates, as if that never happened. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating man? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had had a relationship with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her pregnancy. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did that with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of drinks and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been with Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my innocence was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying herself suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a drink they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a drink from one of the guys. She was not a drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys walked to me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the chair with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was about one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lippie, which is more to moisturize, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a greeting nod and moved to take a look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do a paint job, and possibly a full one. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit had another meaning. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we walked to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, snugged to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t reach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t have a relationship with a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then abandoned her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who wanted me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man. And I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not yet, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten on well with Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick stay around our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and end the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink something to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank was beside me, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door, waiting to get in, were busy welcoming patch members. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
Good girl Jenny's first rule? Never sleep with the enemy -especially not Xavier, her brother Samuel's rival and the league's most insatiable player. But when he catches her mid-fantasy with his nude photo between her thighs, rules shatter faster than the headboard in his bedroom. Facing Xavier's relentless pursuit, the closet, the bathroom, and her exclusive lingerie... Now they're playing a dangerous game of ‘pretend we’re not fucking’—and Samuel is about to find out.
Good girl Jenny's first rule? Never sleep with the enemy -especially not Xavier, her brother Samuel's rival and the league's most insatiable player. But when he catches her mid-fantasy with his nude photo between her thighs, rules shatter faster than the headboard in his bedroom. Facing Xavier's relentless pursuit, the closet, the bathroom, and her exclusive lingerie... Now they're playing a dangerous game of ‘pretend we’re not fucking’—and Samuel is about to find out.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
Having a large d1ck has its downfall. It made me worried about hurting a woman. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. But I found Maxine. I liked the fact that she was teasing me. I liked that she wasn’t chasing or afraid of me. "Can I kiss you?” I asked. I can’t say why, but this girl gets to me—breaking down the barriers I had put up. “I have just left a bad relationship-you may have heard that my boyfriend cheated on me with my sister, not in a hurry to start another.” It might not be the words I want to hear, but it made me feel a bit better. “I want to tear him limb from limb. Then being my girl will protect you.” I nuzzled her ear, and she wiggled on my lap, making my semi harder. Better not do that again. “Let me think about it,” she replied. Maxine didn’t move off my lap. The way her b^tt- cheeks moved on my semi, had it hardening soi far that my jeans got tight, and I thought I was going to explode right then and there, it have been a while since a girl managed to make me this close to coming with no effort at all. Just being herself was all it took. She will be mine. ****** Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically urged me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him a special gift. I had brought new, cute clothes, and I cleaned up. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were together, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did something in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend and take me out on dates, as if that never happened. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating man? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had had a relationship with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her pregnancy. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did that with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of drinks and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been with Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my innocence was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying herself suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a drink they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a drink from one of the guys. She was not a drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys walked to me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the chair with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was about one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lippie, which is more to moisturize, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a greeting nod and moved to take a look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do a paint job, and possibly a full one. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit had another meaning. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we walked to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, snugged to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t reach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t have a relationship with a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then abandoned her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who wanted me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man. And I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not yet, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten on well with Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick stay around our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and end the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink something to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank was beside me, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door, waiting to get in, were busy welcoming patch members. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
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Join us on Friday 5th June from 5pm for a World Cup pre-party to get the tournament buzz ramped up! We’ll be joined by Scottish legends John Collins & Alan Rough, and presenter David Tanner for a live show and Q&A, packed with stories from the game and behind-the-scenes insight. Expect pre-tournament buzz, great football chat, and a full evening of entertainment from start to finish. Your £10 ticket includes: Arrival pint (or soft drink alternative) Live music set from 5pm Live Q&A with John Collins, David Tanner and Alan Rough from 7-9pm Meet & greet opportunities Live entertainment to finish the night Please note this is a predominantly standing event with no table allocation.
World Cup Pre-Party⭐ Join us at Cold Town House on Thursday 4th June from 5pm for a World Cup pre-party to get the tournament buzz started. We’ll be joined by former Scottish legend John Collins alongside David Tanner for a live show and Q&A, sharing stories from the game and plenty of behind-the-scenes insight. Expect a lively atmosphere, great football chat, and a full evening of entertainment from start to finish. 🎟️ Your £10 ticket includes: Arrival pint of CTB (or soft drink alternative) Live music from 5pm Live Q&A with John Collins and David Tanner from 7-9pm Meet & greet opportunities Live entertainment to finish the night Book now! Please note this is a standing event with no table allocation, and tickets are limited.
Having a large d1ck has its downfall. It made me worried about hurting a woman. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. But I found Maxine. I liked the fact that she was teasing me. I liked that she wasn’t chasing or afraid of me. "Can I kiss you?” I asked. I can’t say why, but this girl gets to me—breaking down the barriers I had put up. “I have just left a bad relationship-you may have heard that my boyfriend cheated on me with my sister, not in a hurry to start another.” It might not be the words I want to hear, but it made me feel a bit better. “I want to tear him limb from limb. Then being my girl will protect you.” I nuzzled her ear, and she wiggled on my lap, making my semi harder. Better not do that again. “Let me think about it,” she replied. Maxine didn’t move off my lap. The way her b^tt- cheeks moved on my semi, had it hardening soi far that my jeans got tight, and I thought I was going to explode right then and there, it have been a while since a girl managed to make me this close to coming with no effort at all. Just being herself was all it took. She will be mine. ****** Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically urged me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him a special gift. I had brought new, cute clothes, and I cleaned up. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were together, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did something in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend and take me out on dates, as if that never happened. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating man? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had had a relationship with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her pregnancy. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did that with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of drinks and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been with Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my innocence was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying herself suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a drink they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a drink from one of the guys. She was not a drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys walked to me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the chair with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was about one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lippie, which is more to moisturize, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a greeting nod and moved to take a look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do a paint job, and possibly a full one. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit had another meaning. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we walked to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, snugged to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t reach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t have a relationship with a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then abandoned her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who wanted me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man. And I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not yet, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten on well with Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick stay around our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and end the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink something to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank was beside me, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door, waiting to get in, were busy welcoming patch members. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
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"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.
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"“My guys found her. She’s at the MagDog clubhouse. Fixing their bikes.” “What?” Her father’s brow furrowed. “Then tell her to come home. Our business is drowning.” “She wouldn’t. Maxine sent back a message: ‘You gave my room to a bast3rd baby. I gave my keys to a biker.’” The room froze. Dan, Maxine’s ex-boyfriend, now her sister’s fiancé, remembered the last Christmas. Zoey’s moans. Maxine’s bed. Her white sheets. Zoey remembered stealing him—the third boyfriend she’d taken from her sister. And Mom and Dad never once said stop. Her parents remembered looking at their bleeding daughter and telling her to leave. For a nursery. For the cheater’s child. None of them had ever chosen her. “At least she’s safe,” her mother whispered, sobbing with regret. “Safe? She’s living above a bike shop. But she’s got the whole club at her back. Especially their giant—Tank. Six-foot-eight. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And... their president also sent a message.” “Go on,” her father urged, anxiety simmering beneath. “‘You didn’t want her. We do. Touch her fortune? We’ll end you.’” The words landed like a punch. No one moved. No one breathed. Outside, a Harley roared past the window. She didn’t even slow down." --- Maxine POV “Go home, you have worked too much overtime this week. Have an early night and give that boyfriend of yours an early treat.” My boss practically pushed me out the door, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going. I straddled my bike and started her up. This was going to be a great night. Today was my boyfriend's birthday, and I was going to give him my V-card as a special gift. I had brought new lingerie, black lace, see-through, and I had shaved my mound, leaving a trail that looked like an arrow pointing down to my juncture. I was ready to give him my all, my first, my heart, take the big plunge. I felt I was ready. I pulled into the driveway to see my sister's and my boyfriend’s cars. I had no idea my sister was coming home today. She was still at college in her final year, though I heard she wasn't doing so well. The poor golden girl has not met up with expectations, not that I was worried. My ex-boyfriend showed up three hours early; our date was not for a few more hours. What was he doing here already? Walking in the back door, I heard voices and headed towards them; they were in Dad’s office, with the door slightly ajar. I moved silently to the door and waited outside to hear what secrets they were having now. They occasionally do this when they are planning something and don’t want to include me, but I'm puzzled as to why my boyfriend and sister were included. “We never planned for it to happen.” My sister replied softly, as if she were some kind of victim; she was an expert at that. She should have been an actress; she would have won multiple Oscars by now. “When?” Dad asked, and I waited in the hallway to hear what this was all about. “Christmas day, we had too many of your special eggnogs, and things got heated. The party was more or less over; the presents had been given out, and the food had been eaten. We were all mulling around, talking, when Zoey said something, I don’t remember what—but we went upstairs to continue talking, and ended up in Maxine’s room. We did start by just talking, and before I knew it, we were kissing and things got heated, and ended up in her bed, like I said, and I was so lost in that moment that I forgot to use a protection. When we came out, no one seemed to notice we had been gone, so we pretended it never happened.” My boyfriend replied, and my heart just hit the floor, as I took in that my sister and boyfriend did the dirty in my bed at Christmas. MY BED. I slept in that bed, with their mess on the sheets. I feel suddenly sick at that thought. How could they do that to me? She stole another boyfriend from me again. But he was just as much to blame; I guess our relationship was not that strong yet. Not on his side at least. He continued to pretend, kissing me and taking me out on dates, as if that never happened. What a jerk. Now I feel cheated, dirty, ashamed, and angry all at once. What if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I ended up married to that cheating scumbag? Would her wedding present be to tell me she had slept with him first? I wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She had done that before with my boyfriends, and I guess this one was just as vulnerable to her advances as the last one. “He gave me the best Christmas present ever.” My sister crowed with delight. I could imagine her tenderly touching her belly. “This is good news. I have wanted grandchildren, and the last grandchild I would have expected would be from you; you have never kept a relationship for long.” Mum said, sounding excited at the news. “What now?” My sister asked, still playing the perfect victim. “We get married?’ My now ex-boyfriend suggested —sounds more like a question. “What about Maxine?” My sister asked, as if I were an inconvenience that needed to be sorted out, and now they think about me, but it didn’t sound like concern. “What about her? This is about my first grandchild, and his or her safety comes first. She will have to live with it.” My mother spat, revealing that famous favoritism, because she had always taken my sister's side in everything, even when proven wrong. They never backed me up. “I am technically her boyfriend.” He started to say something, but was interrupted. “Not anymore, you're not. I will arrange with the local publican to hire the outdoor garden area, and we shall have an engagement party this Saturday. Get that sorted before you start to show, and Maxine will show her support.” Dad’s voice floated out, sounding resolute. I had no say in this, not that I wanted to be his girlfriend any longer; he had proven not to be what I wanted in a guy. “She will have to leave. I need her room for the nursery. I would prefer it if she didn't attend the engagement party. What will those who know she was the real girlfriend show up, and see that it was not Maxine getting engaged?” Mum added. Yep, that was my mother, trying to regain her dignity and save face. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was devastated enough, and listening further to their support for the love for the cheater was eating me up inside. I didn’t want to cry in front of them; the tears were a mix of anger and hurt. I pushed the door open, revealing myself standing there. All faces turned to look at me. “Let me get this straight. You took my boyfriend to MY bed, did the dirty with him, leaving your mess in my bed, as a sort of Christmas present for me. Guess that made your day, thinking I was sleeping in your mess. Now you want my bedroom for the child baby you have created, and I am what, just pushed out the door? Like yesterday’s trash?” I asked to ensure I understood correctly that the whole family was fine with me being tossed aside. “Exactly, I am taking your boyfriend, your bedroom, and you, my dear sister, have to move out.” My sister sounded like she had won the lottery. Her face beamed at her triumph. “Fine with me.” The look of shock would have made me laugh if I were not so numb inside. I moved away to my room and packed what I could into my duffel bag. I will come back for the rest later, when they are not around. My heart was breaking, not because I lost my boyfriend, although that hurt a lot, considering that what I was going to give him for his present today was saved for doing something foolish at least. But also because both parents were supporting this deception, as if it were the best news they had received in a while, that they had been trying to get rid of me for a while, and now succeeded in a spectacular way. I walked downstairs and looked at them. “When I find a place to stay, I will be back for the rest.” I spat at them, a mixture of hurt, anger, and defeat. I never fit into the family, a black sheep, so maybe I should become one. I had always had top grades, won awards, done my best, but even being first, I was still last. My best friend was the only place I could think of going to; it had to be temporary. Jenny will be cool and let me sleep on her couch till I find a new home. I climbed onto my bike and took off to the only sanctuary I had over the years. Jenny welcomed me into her home, like I knew she would, and together we had a pity party consisting of beer and vanilla fudge ice cream. We called the family and my ex some interesting names, some of which I had never heard before, but they sounded good. The drunker I got, the more inventive the names became. The next morning, after waking up on Jenny’s couch and remembering yesterday, it did not go as planned. I pulled myself together, had a quick shower, and left for work. It was eight in the morning, and Jenny was still asleep when I left. That might be okay for some, but my workday today would be ten hours long, and I was running late. “You're late, night must have gone better than planned,” Mike said jovially. They sort of knew what I was planning last night. The others chuckled along with Mike. I grumbled some shiet and got to work. By the end of the day, Mike pulled me to his office. “Okay, out with it. The guys have been tiptoeing around you all day. What happened? He rejected your advances?” He asked, his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, looking at me with concerned eyes, a father figure, better than my dad had ever been. So, I told him what happened when I got home and where I spent the night, and now I'm looking for a place to stay. I was proud of myself; I didn’t cry, or whine, or show any emotion at all —just explained my predicament in cold, emotionless words. Clear and succinct. He said he wouldn’t say anything in the shop, but would talk to the prez. I had no idea why, but I was not in the right frame of mind to question it. Maxine POV Today was my sister's engagement party; engaged to my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, you heard me right, my ex. What a joke that was. I had been dating Dan for six months when my sister, who was a year older than I, came home for Christmas and ended up in bed with my boyfriend. She’s a shameless woman, always has been, but I never expected him to sleep with her. I thought we were secure in our relationship. The only good thing I took away from this was that I never went to bed with him; my virginity card was still intact, not that I was trying to keep it - I just never got the chance to lose it. She always managed to have any guy I was interested in dump me for her, and when she got bored with them, she’d move on. So, in a way, I didn’t have a boyfriend till she moved out of her home and headed to college. But when my sister came home and met him, she seduced him and got pregnant. He did the whole ‘get down on one knee and proposed’ scene. Apparently, it was romantic, but I wasn't there when he did it because they didn’t want me around. It hurt a lot at the time, and I was glad to have my girlfriends around me, helping me get over it. They say, I dodged a bullet. I agree with them, stupidly. He might have been a sports jock with good looks, but doing this tells me he was weak and shallow, and I was too good for him, or so my BFF says. I prefer to believe them over the excuses my ex made. I had to move out of my home after I had a massive fight with my parents a few days ago, when the truth was exposed; they supported her, not me, and the next thing I knew, I was out the door and the evil sister. The engagement party was intended to introduce him to her friends and make the relationship official, but I was not invited. My parents want nothing to do with me. I made them all uncomfortable, considering he was my boyfriend first. Anyone working out the timeline for the baby can piece it together, and see they were cheating on me, and it would have been awkward, and too many questions would have been raised. Not that I needed to say all of that, I kind of said it all before, but grrrrr, I am so angry at how my so-called ‘family’ kicked me out of my so-called home, with no care for me or my feelings. It was easier to push me away and disown me than have to explain to them that my sister cheated with my boyfriend, and hey presto, a baby was on the way. Because I was kicked out of the house, and only had a short time to pack anything, I took the opportunity of the party to sneak into the house and take more of my possessions, like opening my father's safe, and grabbing every piece of paper relating to me, and a little money too, no a lot of money, and grandma’s jewelry that she left me. So, with the help of my BFF, we packed my belongings and took them to her place until I found a new one. I ride a motorcycle, so I need help. I have the money to buy a new place, but I'm unsure if I want to stay in this town now. Once my apprenticeship is over, I might move away. I stayed that night at Jenny’s place, as I figured out what to do. Today, I am moving into my new place —a bungalow above the bike shop where I work. I am in my final year of apprenticeship, and I am a motorcycle mechanic, proud of it, I might add. I can also work on cars and trucks. If it had a motor, I could fix it; I always could, thanks to my knack for it, which I developed since I was eight, when I fell in love with engines. My Grandpa taught me, kept me out of everyone's way. I guess you could say I was a tomboy, with no frills and lace. My Grandpa kept me sane and busy, so the BS in our house didn’t hurt me as much. The place has two bedrooms and is fully contained, meaning it has everything I need. I had purchased some new sheets and towels, that sort of thing, but it had a fully stocked kitchen; I only needed to buy the food. It might be small, and above a noisy bike shop, but at night it was a quiet area. No one would break into this shop; the local bikie gang owned it. They were good guys, scary, but so far, no trouble for me. My BFF, Jenny, was helping me take my belongings upstairs when a group of bikers arrived and assisted us. I had five boxes and two suitcases filled with all sorts of items. “Thanks, guys, for the help,” I said sweetly, my BFF batting her eyes at them and swaying her hips suggestively as she walked and thanked them. She makes me laugh with her antics, which are totally opposite to mine. I like jeans and am rarely seen in a dress, whereas she was seldom seen in jeans. “We got a party at the clubhouse, tomorrow Saturday, you should come and relax a bit, bring your girls with ya,” Bruiser suggested as he threw his arm over my shoulder, walked me to the settee, pushed me down, and handed me a beer they had brought with them. This was how they acted around me, ordered me about. Sometimes, I'm okay with it; other times, I get all worked up and growl back at them. Today was acceptance. I know they mean well, and I feel lucky to have them as family; they try to make me feel better. “That sounds like a blast, count me in, and I can bring two other girl friends with us. Max, do you want me to pick you up?” Jenny offered, taking a beer from one of the guys. She was not a beer drinker; however, in this situation, I could see her not refusing anything they offered. I guess I'm going, whether I want to or not. “No, I’ll ride over,” I replied as one of the guys ordered pizza. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like the wind in your hair to blow the cobwebs away.” They stayed because they didn’t want me to be alone, not on my first night here. Pizza arrived not long after, and my little bungalow was soon feeling too small and crowded, with six huge bikers in the room. Some sat on the floor; others pulled up one of the three kitchen chairs. I know, I know, three chairs sound odd, but that's what was here, and beggars can’t be choosers; the rent was dirt cheap, and I think the boys are the ones to make sure I had everything I needed. They found out about my situation the next day, because, I was still quiet at work, which was not like me, often I am singing to the radio, or swearing at something, so one of the guys approached me, to find out what gives, and I softly told them, what went down, and when word got around the bikers heard I needed a place to stay, because I was kicked out of my home and why, they came to me, like protective brothers. Now I have a whole gang of bikers who have my back. I feel privileged to call them friends. They even offered to rough the ex up for me, but I refused the offer, because strangely, I was happy to get rid of the loser if he was a cheating build. Better now than when I am fully invested in our relationship. Plus, I was in deep enough shite with my parents and sister without making it worse. The pizza was gone, my BFF left for home, and the guys did too. It was late, well, for me, midnight. I usually fall asleep quickly because I have to be up for work at five. Tomorrow, being Saturday, I have the morning shift before the party later. They let me leave work early so I can move in here. “Hey, don’t forget to come, we need our prettiest mechanic at the party, some of the boys might need a tune-up,” Bruiser said with a laugh as they climbed on their bikes and left. I know what sort of tune-up he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with a motor. I looked around my new home. It wasn’t much, but it was all mine. The guys were great; they took the empty pizza boxes and beer cans with them, and the place was relatively clean. Not at all what you would expect from a group of rowdy men. The clubhouse. I had never been to it, despite having worked there for nearly four years, and they had never extended an invitation to me. I know they had lots of parties; maybe I was too young. I turned twenty recently, but they might think of me as the fifteen-year-old who showed up one day and told the boss I was going to be his apprentice. He laughed at first and said he would give me a go to prove myself. He thought I was joking and that I would be gone by the weekend, but over the holidays, I worked hard and have been here ever since. Maxine POV The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home. The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work. I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two. Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest. “That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off. “It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin. “Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water. With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday. The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike. “Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time. I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop. The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done. “I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register. “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off. “Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me. I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket. My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen. It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it. I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party. I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road. Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly. Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive. “Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen. “Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice. “Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice. He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser. “Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone. “Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it. “Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner. Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers. One look makes the weak run. Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running. Maxine POV This rather large biker leaned in to look inside the car, his bulky figure partially blocking the open window, causing the girl nearest it to back away. Satisfied, he looked at me with a knowing smirk, then motioned for us to enter. The clubhouse was nothing like I had imagined. Firstly, it was four levels high. Verandah all the way around, that I could see. It was more like a mansion than a clubhouse. Women were gathered near the door, looking in, as if they were waiting for something; some were sitting on the wooden fence that surrounded the verandah. They were dressed in barely anything, showing all that was available, some love that sort of thing. People like me dress to stay warm or cool and don’t care about showing off the goods. Bikes sat in neat rows in front, and cars were parked to the left of the building; the ratio of bikes to cars was approximately four bikes to one car. I parked the bike with the others, climbed off, and took off my helmet. I placed the lid on the bike and shook out my hair while waiting for the girls to park and come to me. I heard some muffled scoffs, but I couldn’t care less —I wasn't here to please them. Bruiser came out of the clubhouse behind me. “Max, you came by bike. Sweet.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and moved to take a closer look at my bike. The paint job was a wolf, fading in smoke. It took me months to finish, as I kept changing my mind, and the smoke obscured the mistakes. “Who did the paint job?” He asked as he moved around to look at it from all sides. “Me.” I was proud of the results. “Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised. “He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.” “Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike. “Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen's sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved. “Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl's backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about. He pushed my hand away. “You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps. “Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them. We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering. “What's so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her. Inside was cleaner than I had expected —my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes. “Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to. “Hey, Maxie Max. How's it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President's; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks. “Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on. She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions. “What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men. “Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing. “She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back. “The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them. Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you. Nom’s are fair game. But most girls would prefer a patch member. Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs. Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area. No going upstairs uninvited. The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls. Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission. The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it. There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now. Alice had already broken at least three, to my knowledge. I am staying out of it. That rabbit on her hand told the members that she would open her legs for any of them, and no one would support her if she broke the rules. That she was not welcome to return, in other words, have your fun, and then kick her to the curb. The doors were opened to let the other girls in. They looked at us in the no-go zone and pouted. We were sitting in an off-limits area unless we were invited. From what I understood, they were here to spread their legs and give the guys some relief, but not become part of the family. They might be hopeful that something would change; it was rare for a patch member to take one of these ladies, who had most likely been with every unattached member of the gang, at some point. My girls left me with Sticks and wandered about with the other ladies, getting the tour of the place. “Want to look around?” Sticks were offered, and before I knew it, we were walking around the vast ground floor. “Ready to see the workshop, the guys might talk you into helping out, once they know who you are.” Sticks led me down a small pathway, lined with flowering shrubs, and to a set of large, farm-size sheds. Inside were bikes, some in bits, others crumpled from an accident, and others like they had just been detailed and were someone's pride and joy. There was a workshop here, where men were working on their bikes. They looked up at us when we entered and frowned. If Sticks were not with me, they would have most likely growled at me to get out. “Who’s this Sticks?” A monster of a man asked, in the deepest voice I have ever heard, he looked a lot like the man at the gate, but with more toned muscles, that I would love to run my fingers over. Just a tad taller, and although he looked big and scary, he made my lady parts sing in a way they had never sung before. Tank POV A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women. Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since. Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large build has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again. The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my confidence went down like a popped balloon. We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior. I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction. “Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly. “That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had. Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it. “Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on. “Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure. “Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention. “Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me. “What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike. I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down. For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own. “Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong. “Back here.” She returned to the call of her name. He arrived and burst out laughing at us. “Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm. “You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry. “What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here. “Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was. “Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked. “We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike. “Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively. “He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties. “Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water. “Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here. “Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding. “Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door. The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser. When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today. She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone. Maxine POV I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it. I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower. I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them. As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it. I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle. “What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed. What did I do that was so funny? He didn’t say a word. He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements. His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me. “You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with. “Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, warmer, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound. He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him. I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives. I thought about that for a while. I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken. “Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at. “Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.” “Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point. “Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines. “Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him. “Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me. “For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that? “Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.” Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important. Causing me to giggle. Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle. The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze. The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby. My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone. Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad. Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself. “Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.