Confessions Of An Old Lady (4 page)

Chapter 6

I arrived in Lexington at the Bluegrass Airport on a Friday around three thirty. It was horribly frustrating to know I was so close to my family, but unable to see them. Being in my hometown was still somewhat comforting, however, knowing the enormity of the task I was about to undertake. Kentucky was in my DNA, so “pretending” to be a country bumpkin was not going to be as difficult as it might have been for someone not from this area. But pretending to be a biker chick was not going to be as easy. All I could do was pray that the last few weeks of training with Renley and Beauford was enough for me to pull it off.

A pre-reserved taxi was waiting for me at the airport entrance. I gave the driver directions to my new house in Nicholasville and he pulled out of the airport parking lot onto Man O’ War Boulevard. I always loved driving along this road. It intersected the city, passed many thoroughbred farms, and would take you almost anywhere in Lexington that you wanted to go. We took a right onto Harrodsburg Road and then a left onto Highway 169, which took us straight into Nicholasville.

The cabbie took a right onto Maple Street and pulled into the driveway of a quaint little Cape Cod. It had white vinyl siding and a maroon door with matching shutters. It was a little bigger than I had expected, but I could see how it would fit in with my backstory. My “father” had passed away recently from colon cancer and had left me the house and all his possessions. I paid the driver with the petty cash I had brought with me for traveling and pulled out my keychain and put the designated key in the lock. When I opened the door, I was immediately taken aback by the musty odor that wafted toward me. Due to the clutter and the smell, it was apparent no one had lived in this house for some time. “Thanks, Uncle Sam,” I muttered under my breath as I kicked away some boxes that were in the walkway so I could walk through and survey my new digs.

There were only two bedrooms on the main floor, a kitchen, and a tiny living room. There were stairs by the side door that led to an attic, but it was cluttered full of boxes and old furniture. I came back down the stairs, walked back into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. Nothing. So I’d have to go grocery shopping. Fantastic.

I checked the television and amazingly, they had sprung for me to have cable TV. There was a wonderful array of books on the two bookshelves that sat on opposite sides of the TV—Steinbeck, King, Follett, Picoult, and Dostoyevsky—I could read and watch my reality TV smut, but other than that, I was going to be rather bored and lonely there in that empty house until things got moving in the investigation.

***

After a trip to the local Walmart to load up on some groceries for the week, I headed back to the house to get ready for my first venture out to The Hole in the Wall. I spent a good amount of time primping my hair and applying my makeup just right. Typically, I only wore mascara and a light-colored lip gloss, but my alter ego loved her makeup. I heavily applied grey and black eye shadow, creating the “smoky eye” look that I had practiced several times after watching a YouTube tutorial on the style. I drew on heavy black eyeliner and caked on the black mascara. Blush was a foreign concept for me, but I had bought some at the Walmart and applied it to my cheeks. Finally, I drew on a deep mauve lip liner and filled in the lines with a matching lip gloss. I stepped back and looked in the mirror at my makeup and my outfit, and although I’d normally never be caught dead looking like I did, it was perfect for what I was trying to achieve.

When ten o’clock rolled around, a time that I’d normally already be in bed, I locked up the house and headed for the bar. I had memorized its location from the file and so I found it rather quickly near the corner of Main Street and Maple Street. It looked exactly like what its name indicated—a hole in the wall. Even though it was only a little after ten o’clock, there were already several bikes parked outside on the sidewalk. I guessed that was because in this little town, bars close down at midnight.

I parked my bike next to the others, hung my helmet on the handlebars, and adjusted my hairdo. I stood there for just a moment to gather my nerves. After inhaling and exhaling the smell of beer, cigarette smoke, and sweat that was wafting out of the bar a couple of times, I sauntered into the bar like I’d been there a million times before. I scanned the room for Sonny or Leroy or any of the other members I’d seen pictures of, but no one looked familiar. There were four or five round tables, all fully occupied, and a jukebox in the corner, just like at Dottie’s back in Glenview.

I spotted an empty seat at the bar, walked confidently over to it, and jumped up onto the barstool.

“What’ll ya have?” asked the husky bartender. He had a thick black beard, but not a hair on the top of his head.

“I’ll have a Blue Moon…with a slice of orange.” I had heard other girls order this drink before at other bars, so I thought it must not be that bad.

He just chuckled and said, “Honey, where do you think you are? We’ve got three kinds of beer on tap or liquor, that’s it.”

I looked over at the tap and recognized Budweiser from my night with Renley and Beauford. “I’ll have a Bud, then.”

“Now that’s more like it.” He laughed, poured me a draft from the tap, and slid it over to me. “Will this be it or are you starting a tab?”

“No, this is fine. Thank you.” I laid down a five-dollar bill and turned around on my barstool to look at the crowd. There were probably about fifteen people in the bar and none of them looked familiar to me. The files had said that Sonny and his dad came in nearly every night, so I was puzzled as to why they weren’t there that night. It was already ten thirty.

I sat there listening to the music that played on the jukebox. ZZ Top, Waylon Jennings, and Johnny Cash all blared through the speakers set up in the corners of the bar. I sipped on my Budweiser until it was about halfway gone. I started to feel slightly lightheaded for the first time in years. I checked the clock on the wall…eleven o’clock.

Just when I was about to give up and leave for the night, I heard a shout go up from the small crowd. I turned back around on my stool and saw Leroy and Sonny Jackson walking through the door of the bar, which was now propped open, the loud music spilling out into the night.

“There they are!” someone yelled out, raising his beer toward the two men who’d just entered the bar.

“To the president!” yelled another.

“To the president!” the crowd repeated.

The older of the two used his hands to try to calm down the crowd. “All right, all right. That’s enough. Simmer down. Get back to your drinks!”

I immediately noticed exactly what Renley and Beauford had told me about the younger of the two, Sonny Jackson. He
was
good-looking. He had brown hair that curled only at the ends and fell just above his shoulders. He had his wavy hair pushed back behind his ears. I couldn’t really tell the color of his eyes, but they seemed to be dark and deep. He had a goatee that matched his dark hair and he had a swagger in his step that was unmistakable.

The elder Jackson, Leroy, was not too bad-looking himself. He looked like an older version of Sonny, only he had completely white hair and a long white beard that hung down to his stout chest. He wore a black bandana wrapped around the top of his head. He too had a certain kind of confidence when he walked.

Both men were wearing their cuts—a black leather vest with their patches sewn all over, I had learned in my training—with jeans and black leather boots. They could have almost been mistaken for twins, if Leroy’s hair wasn’t so white.

Both men swayed as they walked from the doorway to the bar, stopping to shake hands with and high-five other bikers along the way. They stepped up to the bar a few seats down from me and talked with the bartender, whose name was apparently Big Jim. They both ordered shots of whiskey and threw them back as soon as Big Jim slid them over. They immediately ordered another round and threw those back just as quickly.

I sat there, trying not to look directly at them, but I guess I wasn’t as slick as I thought I was, because Sonny did a double-take when he caught me looking. Luckily, he just smiled and raised his third whiskey shot up in the air in my direction. I nodded and smiled, trying to play it flirty and coy at the same time. It must have worked, because Sonny turned around from his spot at the bar and walked over to me and the empty stool next to me.

“This seat taken?” he asked.

It worked! I got his attention the first night!

“No, not at all. Have a seat.”

He pulled the stool away from the bar and sat down on it immediately. “Well, thank ya, Miss…”

Luckily, I was ready with my cover story, which I had been over and over in my mind since I left Chicago. “Patricia…Trish, actually. Trish Sanders.” I held my hand out in his direction.

He looked at it for a split second, as if shaking hands was a foreign concept. I realized in that instant that maybe it was, so I retracted my hand. Then, thank God, he just chuckled and stuck his hand out toward me. “Name’s Sonny. Nice to meet you. You from around here?” Before I could answer, he said, “Wow, that sounded like a lame pickup line. It wasn’t meant to be. I was honestly curious if you’re from around here. I’ve never seen you here before.”

This was the moment that could make or break the whole deal. I had to cut off his curiosity at the head before it grew into suspicion. “No…well, sort of. My dad lived here. I’m from Lexington. My dad recently passed away and left me his house and affairs to deal with.”

He looked at me for a moment without responding. It felt like the longest pause I’d ever endured. I felt like he could see right through my lie. I was ready for him to call bullshit on my story. But he didn’t. Instead he just shook his head and said, “Sorry to hear that. That’s a bum deal. When did he die?”

Whew. I felt like I had dodged a bullet. Maybe literally. “A couple of weeks ago.”

“Who was your dad? Maybe I’ve heard of him?”

Oh, crap
. Even though we had an identity ready for my “father” too, I hadn’t prepared for him to ask me this. “You wouldn’t know him. He wasn’t from here, either. We’re originally from Estill County. He just moved here a couple of years ago himself right after he was diagnosed. Wanted to be closer to the Markey Cancer Center at UK.”

“I see.” Again, he seemed satisfied with my evasive answer. “What is a pretty girl like you doing in a dive like this?”

I was prepared for this question too. “Someone told me this was a place where bikers like to get together, so I thought I’d check it out…see if I could meet some kindred spirits.”

“Kindred spirits? Don’t tell me you’re a
motorcycle enthusiast
?” He laughed under his breath.

“Actually, yes. I got it honest. My dad had a chopper and he taught me how to ride when I was sixteen. He bought me my first bike when I was eighteen as a gift for graduating high school.”

Now he laughed out loud. “
You
? What do you weigh, like ninety pounds soaking wet? You ride a bike? I don’t believe you.”

“Sure do. It’s parked right out front if you don’t believe me. It’s a Harley Superlow…blue—my favorite color. I sold my car and bought it a couple of months ago. Want to see it?”

“Of course I do. I think I’ll have to see this to believe it.” He chuckled.

“Come on, then. I’ll show you. Follow me.” I hopped down from the barstool and led him out the front door of the bar to where my shiny new bike was parked.

When I pointed out my motorcycle, he whistled and said, “Sweet ride! I have to admit, I’m impressed. I thought you were trying to pull one over on me there for a second. You wouldn’t believe how many girls try to pretend like they know how to ride a chopper just to get close to one of us, but you…you seem to be the real deal.”

We stood there talking about innocuous things like the perpetually mediocre University of Kentucky football roster for a while, until we heard the bartender come on over the loud speaker. “It’s twelve o’clock, folks! I don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here!”

“Closing time,” he said, looking down at me. “Want to take this party back to my place?”

I was shocked at his forwardness, but I was prepared for this too. “What kind of girl do you take me for? No, I will not go home with you. I’m not some little piece of tail you guys can trade around whenever you feel like it. I know how you guys can be, but I’m not like that. It was nice to meet you, Sonny, but I’ll be going home now…alone.”

“I see. I see.” He smiled and smoothed his fingers over his goatee. “Fair enough. Maybe I’ll catch you around here another time then?”

“Maybe,” I said, grabbing my helmet and situating it on my head. “We’ll see.” I hopped on my bike, revved up the engine, and pulled away, leaving Sonny standing there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head and laughing.

Chapter 7

I decided to lay low for a week or so, for a couple of reasons. Number one, I didn’t want to seem too desperate. Number two, I was hoping that he’d be looking for me, so when I finally did show up, he’d be happy to see me. Classic game of hard-to-get. This was my hope, anyway. I had no idea if my little ploy was going to work, or whether it was too big a gamble, but I had gotten his attention, which was more than I thought I’d be able to accomplish on the very first day.

I spent the week cleaning up the house and getting it to an inhabitable state. I read some books as well. I re-read
Anna Karenina
by Tolstoy—it was just as long and tragic as I remembered—then started a classic Stephen King novel,
Christine
.

Several days later, when I finally had the house in a state that I could live with, and classic books by Tolstoy and King could no longer hold my attention, I decided it was time for me to venture back out to The Hole. I got all gussied up, locked up the house, jumped on my new bike, and headed downtown to the bar. It was a little earlier than I had arrived last time—around nine o’clock at night—so I didn’t expect Sonny to be there quite yet. I parked in the same place I had last week and secured my helmet.

I was surprised, however, when I walked in and saw Sonny seated at one of the tables closest to the doorway. He noticed me immediately.

“Trish, right?”

I nodded my head.

“Come, sit down with us. There’s room here at my table. That is, unless you’re here to meet someone else?”

“No, I was just coming to hang out.” I took the seat that Sonny had scooted out for me. “Good to see you again, Sonny,” I said with a playful smile.

“You too. Where you been?” he asked, looking truly curious.

“Oh, I’ve been busy working on my dad’s estate shit,” I told him. I didn’t really cuss in my real life, but this character I was playing was supposed to be tough as nails.

“Really? Because I could have sworn you were playing hard to get.” He smiled and winked at me.

“Hard to get?” I thought for a minute. “Baby, I don’t have to
play
hard to get. I
am
hard to get.”

His buddies all whistled and made a “she-told-you” noise. Then I wondered if I’d been too forward, too brash. Sonny just pursed his lips, nodded his head, and said, “Okay, okay. I get it. You’ve made that very clear, darlin’.”

I was sure I had gone too far with my little game until he smiled at me. “Buy you a beer?”

“Sure. I’ll have a Bud.” I was going to have to get used to the taste of beer, apparently.

He reached back and motioned for Big Jim, and when he got his attention, yelled for him to bring me a Bud from the tap.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Trish here is new to Nicholasville. Here to take care of her old man’s business. He just passed away,” Sonny informed his buddies. “Trish, this here’s Spider and Jimmy. Jimmy’s my cousin on my mom’s side and Spider here…he’s our newest recruit, a prospect.”

“What’s a prospect?” I asked.

“A prospect is a
prospective member
of our motorcycle club. He wants desperately to be like us, but he’s got a lot of proving to do before we patch him in. Ain’t that right, Spider?”

“Yeah, Sonny. That’s right,” he said sheepishly. I noticed that Spider, despite his ominous nickname, looked nothing like the other bikers in the bar. He was young, barely twenty, if that, and had sandy blond hair. No tattoos that I could see, and he was scrawny compared to Sonny’s muscular physique.

“You’re in a motorcycle club?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Wow, you are new around here, ain’t ya, pretty thang?” Jimmy observed.

“That’s enough, Jimmy,” Sonny admonished. “Yes. Most of the guys in here are in the MC. See here?” He turned his back toward me and turned his head at an angle so I could still see his face. On the back of his cut was a large picture of a skeleton on a horse. The horse was reared back as if it were going to attack something or
someone
below. The skeleton had a scythe in its right hand and its left hand was on the horse’s reins. “Lords of Chaos Motorcycle Club, Nicholasville, Kentucky Charter.” He turned back around, looking proud of himself.

“I see. And these other patches on the front? What do they stand for?” I knew now that I had him talking about himself and the club, his ego was going to allow him to brag and tell me as much as I needed to know for now. The basics, anyway.

He pointed to a patch on his left breast. It read “Jackson” in black letters. Underneath that one was another one that said “Vice President.”

I knew it was time for me to lay on the girly charm. “Ooooooh. You’re the vice president, huh? That’s pretty awesome. Who’s the president?” As if I didn’t already know.

“My dad, Leroy. He’s the president of the entire charter. Whenever he retires or kicks it, whichever comes first, I’ll be the new president.”

“Long as the club votes it that way,” Jimmy added.

Sonny kicked him under the table. I looked down and noticed Sonny’s boots. They were black leather, like mine, only his had a silver chain that wrapped around the ankle. “Of course the club will vote that way. If they know what’s good for them.” Sonny chuckled.

“What exactly does a motorcycle club…do?” I asked, trying to appear as ditzy as he’d expect any girl to be.

“Oh, you know, ride around…go on charity runs…help out in the community…things like that. Generally, we just…hang out.”

“Sounds interesting.” He didn’t know that I was aware that they did much, much more than just hang around.

“So, Trish…what do you do for a living?” Sonny leaned back in his chair and looked directly at me.

Luckily, I was prepared with my backstory. “Well, I was a nurse in Lexington, but I had to quit my job when Dad started going downhill. I had to take care of him almost twenty-four-seven the last couple of weeks. Then, he passed away and I had to move down here to take care of the house and, well, you know the rest.”

“That sucks, man. You had to quit your job? Do you miss it? Being a nurse, I mean?” This was the first time I’d looked at him and thought he might be sincere and not trying to schmooze me. I forgot for a split second that he was an alleged drug-smuggling murderer.

“Yeah, I miss it. I was a labor and delivery nurse, so I worked with newborn babies.” I paused to make it seem like I might truly be sad. “Yeah, I do miss it. I’ll get back to it, though, as soon as I get my dad’s estate taken care of.”

“So you’re not gonna stick around good ol’ Nicholasville? You’re going right back to the Big City?” Sonny asked.

“Oh yeah. This is temporary. I mean, no offense to your hometown or anything, but Nicholasville is way too small for me. I miss Lexington.”

“What’s Lexington got that we don’t?” he asked.

“Um…stoplights?” I joked. Nicholasville did have stoplights, but not many.

“Oh, ha ha. She’s a comedian, this one.” Jimmy pointed at me.

“No, seriously. It’s just that small towns…well, everyone’s always in your business. There’s no privacy. Everyone knows everything about you. You can’t get away with anything in a small town.”

“Oh, really?” Sonny looked intrigued now. “What, for example, would you need to ‘get away with’? Surely you’re a good girl. I mean, you’re college-educated, a nurse…what kind of trouble could you possibly get into?”

“You’d be surprised,” I teased.

“Oh, do tell,” he demanded.

“Let’s just say I’m not quite the angel you may think I am. I’ve had my fair share of brushes with the law.”

I was immediately grateful for the Agency’s thoroughness when creating my backstory. This was a crucial conversation. I needed Sonny to believe that I was not only okay with criminal conduct, but that I myself had gotten into trouble in my past. He’d be much more likely to confide in me down the line if he thought I had a rebellious criminal streak in me.

“Oh, now, you can’t just throw that out there and not tell us what you’ve done. Don’t worry. No one here’s gonna tell on you. In fact, we’ve all had a few brushes with the law ourselves. Ain’t that right, fellas?”

Spider and Jimmy both just nodded their heads and smiled.

I acted like I was thinking about it for a few seconds and then I said, “Okay, I guess I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to judge me.”

“Darlin’…look at who you’re talking to.” Sonny spread his arms out wide, suggesting the three of them were no angels themselves.

“Okay…well, when I was fifteen, I stole my grandma’s car and took it for a joy ride. I got pulled over…so that was my first offense, but I was a juvenile, so my record was expunged. Then, when I was eighteen, I stole a pack of cigarettes from a gas station in town. Got thirty days of probation for that one. I got a DUI on my twenty-first birthday and lost my license for a year.”

“Wooo hooo!” Sonny exclaimed. “We got ourselves a regular Bonnie Parker over here, fellas.”

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” I pretended to be embarrassed.

“No, no…no judgment here. Just a little surprised is all. How old are you, anyway?”

I decided to keep my age the same. After all, I couldn’t pull off anything much older than I really was. “Twenty-five. How about you?”

“Me?” Sonny pointed at himself. “Twenty-eight. But I feel forty sometimes. I’ve lived quite a life, let me tell you.”

“No, I didn’t just mean how old are you. I meant, what kinda trouble have you been in?”

“Honey…there ain’t enough hours in the day for me to tell you my story. Maybe you and I can discuss it some other time. Just the two of us.”

Spider and Jimmy looked at one another. Jimmy said. “Spider…let’s go play pool. Leave these two alone for a minute.” Spider nodded and followed Jimmy over to the pool tables.

“Well…whaddya say?” Sonny looked at me with a sincere looking grin on his face. This was crucial. Not only had I gotten his attention, but now, only the second time I’d seen him, he’d proposed we spend time alone together. I was excited, but nervous at the same time. After all, I had to remind myself, he’s a suspected murderer. It might not be safe to be alone with him just yet.

“Okay,” I finally acquiesced. “But this is not a date or anything.” I acted coy.

He held his hands up. “All right. Whatever you say. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

I thought for a moment. I was somewhat familiar with Nicholasville, since I had grown up only thirty minutes away. “How about the coffee shop across the street? Tomorrow. At nine.”

“Nine? Isn’t that a little early? This boy don’t usually get up until at least noon. My dad and I own a repair shop and I work crazy hours, darlin’. Can we make it eleven?”

“Eleven it is, then.” I got up and started to walk away from the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sonny. And remember…it’s
not
a date.”

He winked at me. “Course not.”