Chapter 1: The Club House Encounter

I pulled up to the clubhouse. There were bars on the window and a broken fluorescent sign. There were other bikes parked on the outside, lined up in neat little rows. Their owners' prominent bearly men in leathers trusted no one would be brave enough to touch them in their stead.  I parked my motorcycle outside, the scent of oil and gasoline filling my nostrils.

I kicked down the stand and lifted the helmet from my head, shaking my long blonde hair free over my shoulders. I begrudgingly leave the motorcycle and head inside. As I open the door, I take a deep breath, calm myself, and walk in with my shoulders back.  I'm here on business, and I have to make sure that everyone knows it.

All eyes are fixed upon me, and summoning every ounce of strength, I stride forward with shoulders held high, projecting a confidence I do not truly possess. Approaching the bar, I lean in, resting my weight on my arms, deliberately showcasing my presence.

The room is bathed in a soft, muted glow emanating from a handful of flickering bulbs. At the distant end of the bar, I catch a glimpse of my lover's father, perched upon his familiar stool. Surrounding him are men who either fear or deeply respect him, or perhaps a combination of both. Within this small town, he holds immense power as the leader of this motorcycle club. And his son is my clandestine paramour.

“Can I help you?” asked the bartender. “Teauila straight,” I reply. He hesitates. “Are you with someone?” he asks. “This is a private club, and we only serve members and their guests. I bat my eyelashes in confusion, “what sort of club is this?” I ask innocently. “The kind that doesn't look for trouble, and you look like trouble,” said a man behind me. “Just serve her the drink Henry,” he says, nodding to the bartender. “Then you have to go,” he adds. I nod, siping my shot and looking up at him with my large blue eyes. He was huge and wore a  leather vest covered in patches, insignia, and an armful of tattoos. He was not a man to mess with. “ I just need to make a call,” I say. “My lawyer, I've been trying to track him down. Maybe you know him. I believe he’s represented you in the past. Alix.” I say, letting the name stretch, emphasized by my tongue. “ he's not returning my calls, and I need to find him.” The man continued to stare at me, his eyes narrowed. “Alix doesn't mess with girls like you,” he said, turning to the bartender. “Henry, call her a cab.” “ I don't need a cab; I have my bike. What I need is Alix”. I say with a smile and in the sweetest tone I have available. “I'll be over there playing pool; you let me know when he's ready to talk to me.” 

I wander off and find a sturdy stick, but no one acknowledges my presence. However, I can feel Alix's presence all around me, in every corner of this place. This is where he grew up, where he spends his time. If he's not physically here now, then surely his father knows where he is. I've been trying to reach out to him for days, but he hasn't responded, and it's causing me great concern. He took on a task for the club and didn't come back that evening. He didn't return to our modest shared apartment. I was his secret, hidden away from everyone else. But he had responsibilities that came with his birthright; Alix received an education and was groomed to be the future leader of the family, the next head. Family always came first. Still, I had a feeling that something was wrong. He had never been away from me for so long without a single check-in. And seeing his motorcycle sitting untouched in our apartment parking space only added to my worries. I couldn't bear the anxiety any longer, so I took the keys and drove to the one place where I knew I would find the answers I needed.

"How did you come across my brother's bike?" inquired a large man with long, greasy, blonde hair. He greeted her with a smile, although it seemed forced. The others in his presence fell silent, eagerly anticipating her response. The others around him hushed, awaiting my response. “You are Tony,” I say as if that was the response he is looking for. “ it seems you know more about me, and I know nothing about you,” he replied. With an aggressive and unsettling demeanour, he scrutinized her from head to toe. "Tell me where he is," she murmured softly, a plea shared only between the two of them. The room fell into silence; no laughter, no conversation. Even the radio was silenced. All eyes were fixed upon Alix's brother, including his father, who listened intently from his stool, awaiting their exchange.

"Tell me where he is. After all, you're the stranger with his bike," he demanded sternly. As the other men in the bar closed in on her, his smile faded away. With a quivering voice and trembling lips, she replied, a sob escaping. Her confidence waned. "I don't know," she confessed, tears flowing freely. "He never came home. He always does. He mentioned having some club business. He left Thursday night, and now it's Sunday. Where could he be? He must be here," she pleaded, her voice choked with emotion.

In that moment, his father made a decision to rise and address her. "Who are you, and what do you understand about my organization?" he demanded, swiftly advancing while burly men parted ways, until his face was inches from hers. "What knowledge do you possess about my operations?" he asked, with the intention of intimidating. And it worked, as her courage waned at the sound of his words. He wasn't inquiring about her acquaintance with Alix or their relationship; he sought to gauge her awareness of his illicit activities. He aimed to determine if she posed a problem that required resolving.

"I am his fiancée," she declared, raising the chain adorning her neck to reveal a dazzling diamond ring. With certainty, she knew they would recognize it; it was a cherished family heirloom, passed down through generations. Perhaps the sight of it gracing her neck would provide a sense of security, or perhaps it would ignite their anger, as they were oblivious to her existence while she possessed something so dear to their family.

Tony reached out and forcefully removed the chain from her neck, pulling her head towards him until the clasp gave way. "That doesn't belong to you," he shouted, his anger uncontrollable. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable blows from his fists. However, his father intervened, stepping between them and soothing his agitated son. "I gave this to Alix when he was accepted into Law School. I told him how proud we all are to have our very own family lawyer. He gave it to you?" His face wore an expression of confusion and hurt. Alix had done everything in his power to keep her a secret from his family, not wanting her to be a part of his life. He was trying to protect her, but she couldn't help but feel that there should be more. How could they get married without her ever meeting his family? The club was his family, his everything, and he kept her separate from that world. He refused to mix his two lives together.

The expression on his father's face revealed his awareness that she was telling the truth, that she was indeed Alix's. However, in that moment of realization, he also uncovered the fact that his son had been keeping secrets from him. It became apparent that his son had chosen a life beyond the one he had been destined for, embracing a relationship with someone his father had never even met.

That's how I found myself in the passenger seat on the back of the leader of the local motorcycle gang, cruising down the highway towards Mexico. As we rode, the club members surrounded us, matching our speed and creating a protective shield around us. I held on tightly, captivated by the scenery and feeling a deep connection to it, a connection that I could never experience from within the confines of a car.

With the ring clutched tightly in my hand, I raised it to my lips and gently kissed the stone. "Hang on a little longer, Alix," I whispered, as we raced down the Pan-American Highway. The frigid wind whipped through my hair, sending shivers down my spine.

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