Authors: Jade Allen
****
The Running Hill riders met at the race track on
Flag Day, as planned. Mona was there to hand out their numbers and collect the
money they raised in the event. Audience members could bet on different racers
from the different teams and all of the proceeds went to the charities that
each club sponsored.
The riders on Benny’s team took motorcycling
seriously, but they were not competitive. They rode in races to thrill spectators
and earn money for their cause, not to actually win. The winning was simply in
participating and being able to give back.
That was what Lance could never seem to get
through his thick skull.
Mona had shown up on the back of Ryan’s beloved
motorcycle, CopyCat. It was a black Harley with small, red paws painted into
the back. All of the riders on the racing team had motorcycles with a unique
insignia. That way, each rider could be recognized by both his number and his
logo.
Doing her part to join in with the fun, Mona wore
a black and red outfit, resembling a harlequin character. She even went so far
with the theme as to draw black and red diamonds on either cheek, under her
eyes. The theatricality of these events was something she loved to get behind.
Riding practice with Ryan was going well, but she
was in no way ready to race. She still wasn’t sure she’d ever want to full-on
race with the club. She’d be happy just to ride with them.
She sat at the Running Hill Riders table, watching
as her club started their engines and took off down the track. She knew that it
didn’t matter who won and that there was more than one rider on her team, but
she secretly hoped that Ryan would win anyway.
Perhaps it was not actually much of a secret. She
was pretty sure that he knew.
Suddenly, there was a giant burst of flame as one
of the bikers crashed and went down against an outer wall of the circle. Mona
jumped up, hands over her mouth, and a stunned hush went over the crowd. It
wasn’t until some of the smoke had cleared before she realized that the injured
rider was one of her own.
It was Weasel.
A handful of people were running around beneath the
glowing lights of the racetrack in complete panic. Many of the bikers from both
Mona’s team as well as competing teams stopped racing when they saw the crash.
The fire was quickly put out. His motorcycle lay
on its side in a melted, molten heap, but Weasel was okay. He was on the ground
and in pain, but he was alive.
“Weasel, don’t squirm!” she told him, kneeling
beside him. “You’ll bleed more.” She knew basic first aid for situations such
as this. It was a good thing indeed that she’d shown up for this race instead
of sitting at home and only wishing she had.
Weasel’s eyes were moving nearly as fast as his
mind, and he felt like his body was going to start revolving next. Soon, he’d
go whirling off into space, a shuttle made of bones and muscle, spinning until
he found a void as cold as he felt now. Weasel struggled to feel present, and Mona’s
voice brought him solidly back to earth. Weasel forced himself to take a deep
breath as the alcohol-soaked rag crept toward the jagged slice on his right arm
again, bracing himself for the burning sensation the cloth would bring. Some of
the other Running Hill Riders were milling around behind Mona, looking at him
and trying their best to find some of the discarded pieces of his crashed
motorcycle. Mona knew that they were trying to keep themselves focused on the
task, and not consider the chaos the race had descended to. The first needles of
pain from the alcohol seeped into Weasel’s wound and actually seemed to help
sharpen his focus.
“Can you count how many fingers I’m holding up?”
Mona asked him.
She was holding up three and Weasel informed her
as such.
That made her smile. He was going to be okay. With
any luck, he was not even concussed. He’d just had a bad tumble and got some
glass in his arm. No big deal, right?
“This was no accident,” he growled suddenly so
that only Mona could hear.
“What?” she asked, startled and wary of what the
accusation implied. Surely he was just being paranoid…
“My brakes wouldn’t lock,” he said, looking her in
the eyes so she would hear him out instead of just shrugging it off as nothing.
Weasel was a trusted rider. He was no liar. But
she didn’t want to believe that anyone in their club would do such a thing.
She pressed the rag into his arm more firmly, bringing
his left hand up to replace hers. He applied pressure as she pulled her hand
away. “If you’re suggesting that somebody on our side sabotaged your bike,
maybe you hit your head harder than you thought. We’ve weeded out the rats
already, remember?”
Weasel tried to get to his feet and winced as he
put pressure on his right leg. “Yeah, I remember. But this isn’t a rat. It’s a
cancer. And those are more insidious.”
Mona grabbed his arm as he tried to walk away,
whirling him around to face her again. “Don’t go around accusing our family of
trying to fuck with you, Wease. Not until we know more about this.”
“Are we a family?” he suddenly asked her.
“Or
are we all just a bunch of riders looking out for ourselves now?”
It pained her to think this way about the people
who had been by her side for years, but there was a shred of truth in what he
said. Who else had access to their bikes before races?
The clubs they were racing with were not their
enemies. Everyone was there to raise money and have a good time. Mona saw no
reason that any of the other racers would want to hurt any of her men.
But something lurked at the back of her mind.
There was someone who was set against their club and the wishes of their fallen
leader.
Lance Olsen.
He was a sore loser and even sorer when he didn’t
get what he wanted. Mona didn’t want to believe that he’d actually cause a
crash like this and endanger Weasel’s life, but there was that lingering ‘but…’
that wouldn’t go away from her mind.
Ryan carefully lifted up the battered and broken
bike, moving it away from the wreckage and off of the track. Mona went to him
now that Weasel had made his way to the first aid tent and was recovering from
his shock and injuries. An ambulance would be coming for him soon, but
meanwhile she and Ryan had bigger things to deal with.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute alone?” she
asked him.
“Sure,” he said. He wheeled the bike towards the
grassy area everyone had arrived from and let it lay down against the softer
ground there. The bike was going to need a lot of repairs now. It was unlikely
that Weasel would be able to cover it all on his own, but that was what this
club did for each other: they helped out when it was needed. “What is it?” he
asked. “Aside from something getting fucked up back there…”
“Weasel seems to think he was sabotaged.”
Ryan sniffed and shook his head, smiling a
sardonic smile. “No shit,” he said. “And I think you and I both know who it
was.”
Mona sighed. “Lance.” It wasn’t even a question.
They both just thought it, felt it,
knew it
.
No one else was as vehemently against the Running
Hill Riders continuing on as a showmanship, charitable club. No one else was
has foolhardy and dangerous either.
“I didn’t think the bastard had it in him,” Ryan
said. “But he was pretty annoyed when he left our meeting.”
Mona looked into Ryan’s eyes. If he was going to
start secretively showing up at their events and ruining their rides, would any
of her teammates be safe? Would she be safe?
****
Mona and Ryan didn’t know quite what to do. There
was no evidence of foul play on the bike, largely owing to the fact that the
bike was nearly destroyed. There were likely no fingerprints because all of it
had been engulfed in flames. It was a carefully plotted out scheme.
That didn’t stop them from filing a police report.
At the next race, they would also be sure to have at least two people standing
guard by the bikes beforehand, to keep any delinquents from manhandling the
motorcycles.
Mona was in a state of panic. Her first race had
ended in fire and fear. They raised a considerable amount of money, but a large
chunk of it was going to go into fixing Weasel’s beloved Night Rod Special.
That and helping him pay off some of his large medical bills. The young rider
had broken one of his leg bones as well as sliced up several of the tendons in
his arm. He was going to be out of the running for quite a while.
Mona kicked the trashcan in her garage, causing it
to clang loudly and tip over, knocking its contents to the floor. She put her
head in her hands, crying in angry frustration. Thank goodness Ryan was there
with her.
He wrapped his arms around her and let her cry
against his broad chest. She’d been working so hard and was even close to
riding herself. Now, she was too afraid to get on the back of her bike, just in
case some asshole had tampered with it while her back was turned.
“It’s going to be okay,” Ryan told her soothingly,
gently rubbing her back. “We’ll catch the creep who did this. We won’t live in
fear.”
“Maybe not you,” she said sadly, looking up into
his eyes. “I’m the one who’s got to worry about this. I’m the one who’s
already—”
She cut herself off, but he already knew what she
was going to say. “Scared?” he suggested.
She looked down. “On-edge, I would say… Can I just
say something?”
He put his hands on her shoulders supportively,
looking at her with care and concern plainly written on his face. “You may.” He
didn’t want to prod her, but he had been able to sense for a while that
something was not fully right with her. That was why he’d asked how she was
holding up in the first place, the other evening.
Returning her gaze back to his caring blue-green
eyes, Mona sighed and wiped at her wet cheeks even though it didn’t do much to
remove the tears that had slid into position there. “I feel like I’m losing
it,” she said. “I feel scared and alone and pretty depressed, actually. I’ve
been working so hard to keep it together for the Riders. I just… Can’t always.
And now, with this, I’m starting to feel like maybe it’s a bad idea to even try
and keep this up.”
“Hey…” Ryan said. He gently lifted her chin with
an index finger and leaned down towards her face, kissing her softly. “Don’t
give in to Lance. Don’t let one bad apple spoil the bunch. We will deal with
this together. You’re not alone. Do I look like a ghost to you?”
She smiled and chuckled a little then. “No,” she
said. “Definitely not a ghost.”
They kissed again.
“Now, what about that date?” he asked her.
“Nothing will take your mind off of things better than a date with this guy.”
He pointed both thumbs at himself and grinned. “Dinner? Movie? Dinner and a
movie?”
She thought it over. “Arcade.”
Ryan beamed at her, impressed. “Niiiice.”
They went back into the house and out the front
door. She pulled out her keys for the Mini, but he shook his head at her and
gestured to his CopyCat. Mona eyed the sleek black motorcycle nervously.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Come on, Myers. You can trust me. No one touches
my baby without my say so.”
He took a spare helmet out of the storage
compartment and tossed it to her. Mona caught it and put it on, a look of
trepidation in her blue eyes. Ryan smirked a little at her and put on his
helmet, buckling it and kicking one leg over the big bike. He patted the seat
behind him. “You’re safe with me, Mona,” he said. “I promise.”
With a long, deep sigh, she got onto the back of
Ryan’s bike and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He took off down her
driveway and turned down the street. Before long, with the wind on her face and
the world zipping past her, she forgot to be scared and she was flooded with
excitement.
When they got to the arcade, the place was
popping. There were so many flashing lights and sounds. Mona felt like a kid
again. She rushed to a shoot-em-up game involving zombies and gestured with her
big, plastic zapper gun for Ryan to come over and join her.
They worked together to annihilate as many zombies
as they possibly could in three minutes. When it was over, a little paper
ticket came out of the machine.
Mona cackled. “Aww, we even get a token for
participating! Ooo, I wonder what sort of ridiculous prizes we can even win.”
He smiled at her. “I’ve already got my ridiculous
prize.”
She giggled. “Oh yeah?”
Wrapping his arms around her, the walked along –
albeit slowly – checking out the games. He was more concerned with kissing her
neck and enjoying being with her than actually playing any games. However, her
enthusiasm was infectious and any time she “aww”ed or “ooh”ed one of the games,
a piece of him felt electrified with adoration. Probably it was his heart.
“Mona,” he said to her as they were tossing
skee-balls side by side.
She smiled but kept her attention focused on the
holes she was aiming for. “Yeah?”
“I think we should move in together.”
She let loose and her ball went flying… backwards.
“Oh shit!” she said, laughing and watching as the small but heavy white ball
went sailing through the air, hitting one of the games about ten feet away.
“Sorry!” she called to everyone around.
Mona turned back towards him while the attendant
was bringing back the wayward ball. “What did you say?” she asked.
He blushed. Now that he had her full attention, he
was a lot more nervous about the proposition. “I think we should live
together.”
Mona stared at him. She didn’t know what to say.
The idea was a pretty good one. Ever since her dad died and she’d moved into
the old house, she’d felt lonely. Perhaps this was the best solution.
Especially if she factored into the equation the
fact that she loved Ryan. Not just as a member of the club.
“I think that sounds like a great idea!” she said,
leaping into his arms and hugging him tightly.
Just then, the attendant handed Ryan the wayward
skee-ball. He chuckled. “Thanks.” He turned his full attention back to Mona.
“Really? I know that living in your dad’s place has got to be kind of nice for
you. You get to feel close to him there, at least, right? I don’t want to be in
the way of that. I just don’t want you to feel alone. And I want to be around
you more… is that okay?”
“Aww,” she said, touched. She planted a kiss on
his lips. “That’s more than okay. In fact, now that you’ve come up with this
idea, I insist that we go through with it.”
If anyone could keep Lance away from her, it was
Ryan. She trusted that he would be able to protect her from harm, including the
harm that sadness sometimes did to her late at night. She’d be able to rest
easy now, she thought.
But that soon changed.