Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
While my first couple of months I spent on the road trying to find a place where I could get a job, start life, I avoided anything and everything biker. If it looked like a biker bar, I avoided, even if there was a now hiring sign. If it looked like a biker run town, I kept going.
My instructions are vague and precise at the same time. The ones they give me are exact, but in between is all a land of gray. Since the calls are not on a schedule and outside of the hand full of rules I have been given, I have to make this work for myself, I’m trying to play it smart. Pick stops safely and don’t spend too much money.
Hence, how I came to Florida and originally intended to avoid that motorcycle man lifestyle. Normalcy is safe, right? Find some middle-class suburb and blend in. Except I don’t want to be tracked. The only way for that to happen is to find a cash paying job and a place to stay that will take cash.
In today’s society that isn’t as easy as it sounds. Like a science experiment there are too many variables. This isn’t a formula, and I can simply put in the right amounts to create the concoction necessary. This is complete chaos. I’m falling deeper into the void of unknowns with every passing day.
It wasn’t long though, a thought hit me.
I know the loyalty in a motorcycle club runs deep. I’ve experienced the power of that devotion firsthand. There is no way, not then, not now, that I will risk having Wesson or the Hellions tied up in any of this. If I stay out of their territory, I should be clear of any connection to Wesson, or Busted as they know him in motorcycle club world. Another club though, will control the area they own. I can probably find a bar to work at that pays cash. As long as I play my cards smart and don’t slip up by referring to Busted or his brother, Kick, which is Diem’s man Colton, I think I can break ties with my life with the Hellions.
Road-names are unique to each man. Earned much like the patches on their cuts. There is a story behind each one. When I was in the hospital trying to heal, unable to really speak (or stay awake for long periods of time for that matter), Wesson would tell me each brother’s road-name and why they got that one. While most of them didn’t stick with me as far as the stories go, I know who is who, that’s what matters. Or mattered, right now I’m not sure I’ll be able to go back ever again.
The more time passes, the more things change. That is a truth bomb. The longer I stay away the harder it feels to fix this and go back.
The thing is, I know finding a place with a club presence is safe. People watch documentaries, read books, or watch glamorized shows that make bikers seem almost animalistic. The truth is there aren’t a safer group of men to be around. Most clubs, even the full-blown outlaw ones, live by their own code. That doesn’t promise me safety, but they protect their territory. Until I can sort out the depths of the threat, I need to be somewhere that has control by someone other than the people after me. It’s the only way I can stay alive until I can find the answers they seek.
Yes, hearing the words “property of” is hard to digest. If Dia hadn’t explained it to Diem and me, I’m not sure I would understand it. Assumptions are easy to make. It isn’t degrading, at least not in my experience, though. To be tagged is to be cloaked in the protection of the club.
More than that, I have found that being an ol’ lady isn’t the only thing a club protects. Their town, their territory, that is something they will die for. As long as I don’t cross the club, I can find safety in the mundane day to day life until I know what to do next.
Crest, Florida is a non-descript small suburb. I came here wanting to find a slightly cheaper hotel rate and ended up staying. Unlike the bigger cities, there aren’t the fancy name hotels with the elevators and safety measures. Until everything blew up with my dad, I never imagined staying anywhere that wasn’t a five-star resort. Diem and I lived that level of lifestyle. In an instant it all came to a head. I feel like I’m going to pay for the sins of my father for the rest of my life. Nothing I can do will get me out from the shadow of what was done.