Disappointed, dragging his feet out of the old Victorian style mansion, he mounted his Night Rod and grabbed his helmet while he waited for the rest. Seconds later, a twenty-six-year-old brunette tending to the bleeding arm of a man appeared outside the door. They paused for a second and then sat down on the staircase. She patched him up and then walked over to Richard who was so deep in his thoughts, staring at his helmet that he hadn't even noticed them.
'Chris will be fine; it's just a flesh wound.' she told him. 'We should go; there's nothing more we can do here and it's getting dark.'
'Can he ride, Vicky?' he answered with a grave voice without lifting his head.
'Don't worry about me!' yelled Chris from behind as he got up and climbed down the stairs heading to his bike. 'Let's go!' he added, while starting up his grey BMW and mounting his helmet. With a loud roaring of two more engines they set off out of the courtyard and on to the main road. After exiting the countryside and reaching the city, Vicky signaled Richard and Christoph to pull over.
'Why did we stop here?' asked Richard, slightly annoyed. Vicky pointed upwards to a flickering green neon sign that said 'BAR'. 'There's no time for…' started Richard but Vicky interrupted: 'After tonight, I'm not going anywhere without a drink and you obviously need one too.' He gave her a piercing look, then sighed and headed down the alley to the bar entrance, Vicky and Christoph following him. Just as Richard put his hand on the door knob, he heard a loud yell and then jumped back a step to avoid the bartender that fell, thrown through the big window with massive force. He wanted to walk towards him to see if he was still conscious but the bar door burst open and a twenty-year-old boy ran out and bumped into him, making them both fall to the ground. Richard got up quickly and started kicking the young man's ribs making him groan but Vicky pulled him away.
'Brent?! Brent Warner?' she asked, helping the boy get up. 'W… what are you doing here?'
'Warner?' whispered Christoph to Richard, raising his eyebrow; but he just shrugged.
'Vicky?! Oh God, Vicky!' he yelled as he jumped to hug her. 'I've been looking for you; all over the country for the past… two years. What are you doing in Fontana?'
'I…' she hesitated '…got a job at a garage here. Why aren't you with Julie? Does she know you're here?' Brent bowed his head.
'Would somebody please tell me who the hell this kid is?' shouted Richard, enraged.
'He's my brother…' answered Vicky.
Everyone stood quiet, staring at Brent for about a minute, until sirens pierced the silence.
'I think we should continue this at the clubhouse before somebody makes you pay for that window.' insisted Richard.
'Yeah, let's go. You look like you're gonna faint any second now.' said Vicky.
'I… I'll be alright.' replied Brent, shaking.
They got on their bikes and Richard ordered Brent to ride with him, ignoring Vicky's attempt to argue.
As they were heading to the club, with the sound of their choppers echoing through the night, a police car and an ambulance sped by them in the opposite direction, answering to a 911 call about a bar fight. About a half an hour later they arrived to their destination. A big yard with a large garage in the back of it, advertised by a poor lit sign that read "CHOP SHOP" under the picture of a black, shining, Harley Davidson "Night Rod" greeted them as they entered the large half-open gate. A man in his fifty's with a long grayish beard dressed in blue overalls covered in grease and dirt stepped outside and shook Richard's hand.
'Hey, Tank. Where are the guys?'
'They're finishin' up in the back.' answered Tank. 'How'd it go with that spirit? Did you deep-fry the bastard?' he continued, laughing as his yellow teeth showed between his dry, barely visible lips. A strong scent of whiskey was easily noticeable in his breath.
'No, turned out to be another werewolf.' hearing that word, Brent gave a surprised, shocked look towards them, and the old man noticed but continued paying attention to what Richard was saying. 'Should've gotten the silver rounds. The filthy dog butchered an entire family…two kids. Christoph nearly got his arm torn off.'
'Got a 'lil scratch there, Chrissy boy?" mocked Tank.
'Screw you, old man! And I told you not to call me "Chrissy"! Or "boy"!' he shouted. 'Damn old drunk…' Vicky let out a giggle and smiled to him. Chris smiled back and winked. Vicky turned her head.
'Who's the tweener?' asked Tank, turning his head towards Brent.
'He's my brother.' replied Vicky. 'He's gonna sleep here tonight. That alright with you?'
'Sure, doll'. No problem…' he said, with the smile wiped off his face.
'Good. Come on. I'll show you around.' she told Brent, putting her arm around his shoulder.
They all went inside, Richard went with Tank to check on the other mechanics and Chris sat at the bar where a very young blonde clumsily poured him his vodka spilling a few drops.
'Don't worry about it, honey. We're all nervous the first time.'
She blushed and smiled as she got a cloth and started wiping the counter nearly knocking over a few bottles. Chris grinned.
Vicky showed Brent his room: a small bed by the window and four walls decorated with black & white pictures of club members and random motorcycles and a big flag with the anarchy sign hung by two nails. Then they went to the bar and both got a shot of whiskey. The bartender smiled shyly at Brent but managed not to spill the drink this time. After quickly finishing her shot, and Brent struggling to keep up with her, she told him she needs a shower and will be back in fifteen minutes. Chris moved to the now empty chair next to him and refilled his glass.
'So…' he took a sip of vodka '…why don't you tell me about yourself? For example why did you disappear from your sister's life?'
'We had this stupid fight a few years back… I was in love with this girl… Julie. I wanted to marry her…'
'Marry her? Aren't you like… twenty?'
'Yeah but…'
'Well a few years back means you were…'
'Eighteen…'
'God, American kids are stupid these days. They barely discover pussy and they wanna spend their lives only inside one.' said Chris emptying his glass.
'It wasn't like that. We were in love.' replied Brent, irritated.
'Yeah, yeah… well… where is she now?' Brent bowed his head again because he knew the answer will verify everything that Christoph had just said.
'We… broke up.'
'Stupid damn kids…' murmured Chris taking another sip of vodka, now directly from the bottle.
Vicky came back in the meantime, wearing a clean pair of jeans and a red shirt over a black t-shirt, her long hair still wet from the shower. Chris offered her seat back and took the bottle with him.
'You have a dumbass brother, you know that?'
'Go to sleep, Chris.' she calmly replied.
'Come on darling…' he told the bartender putting his arm around her waist then moving it lower. She giggled again as they went to his room.
'You should go too, you look like crap. Take a shower, get some sleep and we'll talk tomorrow.'
Brent nodded and did as told. Vicky went back in the garage. The floor was dirty with puddles of used oil, dirty rags and piles of rusty screws and small pieces of metal. Three bike engines were lined up on the floor, each in front of a half-assembled Harley. A few fuel tanks were lying around and the old man was mending one of them.
'Hey Eddie, have you seen Richard?' she asked him and he stopped welding and took off his mask.
'Out back. Took the six-pack with 'im.'
The back yard was small and there was rusted metal scattered all around it on the tall uncut grass. Richard was sitting on the stairs with a can of beer in one hand and a cigar in the other.
'How's your brother?' he asked without looking at her.
'He's fine, I told him to get some rest.'
He nodded and took a smoke, followed by a sip of beer.
'Look, I know you're upset about tonight but we'll find it, we're getting closer every time and...'
'It's been seven months already, Vicky.' he said, finally looking at her. 'I was sure that tonight we'd find it. And it was a dead end… as always. I'm starting to accept the fact that I'm never going to see Gavin again…' he took his beer and went inside, leaving her by herself under the starlit sky.
'Chris will be fine; it's just a flesh wound.' she told him. 'We should go; there's nothing more we can do here and it's getting dark.'
'Can he ride, Vicky?' he answered with a grave voice without lifting his head.
'Don't worry about me!' yelled Chris from behind as he got up and climbed down the stairs heading to his bike. 'Let's go!' he added, while starting up his grey BMW and mounting his helmet. With a loud roaring of two more engines they set off out of the courtyard and on to the main road. After exiting the countryside and reaching the city, Vicky signaled Richard and Christoph to pull over.
'Why did we stop here?' asked Richard, slightly annoyed. Vicky pointed upwards to a flickering green neon sign that said 'BAR'. 'There's no time for…' started Richard but Vicky interrupted: 'After tonight, I'm not going anywhere without a drink and you obviously need one too.' He gave her a piercing look, then sighed and headed down the alley to the bar entrance, Vicky and Christoph following him. Just as Richard put his hand on the door knob, he heard a loud yell and then jumped back a step to avoid the bartender that fell, thrown through the big window with massive force. He wanted to walk towards him to see if he was still conscious but the bar door burst open and a twenty-year-old boy ran out and bumped into him, making them both fall to the ground. Richard got up quickly and started kicking the young man's ribs making him groan but Vicky pulled him away.
'Brent?! Brent Warner?' she asked, helping the boy get up. 'W… what are you doing here?'
'Warner?' whispered Christoph to Richard, raising his eyebrow; but he just shrugged.
'Vicky?! Oh God, Vicky!' he yelled as he jumped to hug her. 'I've been looking for you; all over the country for the past… two years. What are you doing in Fontana?'
'I…' she hesitated '…got a job at a garage here. Why aren't you with Julie? Does she know you're here?' Brent bowed his head.
'Would somebody please tell me who the hell this kid is?' shouted Richard, enraged.
'He's my brother…' answered Vicky.
Everyone stood quiet, staring at Brent for about a minute, until sirens pierced the silence.
'I think we should continue this at the clubhouse before somebody makes you pay for that window.' insisted Richard.
'Yeah, let's go. You look like you're gonna faint any second now.' said Vicky.
'I… I'll be alright.' replied Brent, shaking.
They got on their bikes and Richard ordered Brent to ride with him, ignoring Vicky's attempt to argue.
As they were heading to the club, with the sound of their choppers echoing through the night, a police car and an ambulance sped by them in the opposite direction, answering to a 911 call about a bar fight. About a half an hour later they arrived to their destination. A big yard with a large garage in the back of it, advertised by a poor lit sign that read "CHOP SHOP" under the picture of a black, shining, Harley Davidson "Night Rod" greeted them as they entered the large half-open gate. A man in his fifty's with a long grayish beard dressed in blue overalls covered in grease and dirt stepped outside and shook Richard's hand.
'Hey, Tank. Where are the guys?'
'They're finishin' up in the back.' answered Tank. 'How'd it go with that spirit? Did you deep-fry the bastard?' he continued, laughing as his yellow teeth showed between his dry, barely visible lips. A strong scent of whiskey was easily noticeable in his breath.
'No, turned out to be another werewolf.' hearing that word, Brent gave a surprised, shocked look towards them, and the old man noticed but continued paying attention to what Richard was saying. 'Should've gotten the silver rounds. The filthy dog butchered an entire family…two kids. Christoph nearly got his arm torn off.'
'Got a 'lil scratch there, Chrissy boy?" mocked Tank.
'Screw you, old man! And I told you not to call me "Chrissy"! Or "boy"!' he shouted. 'Damn old drunk…' Vicky let out a giggle and smiled to him. Chris smiled back and winked. Vicky turned her head.
'Who's the tweener?' asked Tank, turning his head towards Brent.
'He's my brother.' replied Vicky. 'He's gonna sleep here tonight. That alright with you?'
'Sure, doll'. No problem…' he said, with the smile wiped off his face.
'Good. Come on. I'll show you around.' she told Brent, putting her arm around his shoulder.
They all went inside, Richard went with Tank to check on the other mechanics and Chris sat at the bar where a very young blonde clumsily poured him his vodka spilling a few drops.
'Don't worry about it, honey. We're all nervous the first time.'
She blushed and smiled as she got a cloth and started wiping the counter nearly knocking over a few bottles. Chris grinned.
Vicky showed Brent his room: a small bed by the window and four walls decorated with black & white pictures of club members and random motorcycles and a big flag with the anarchy sign hung by two nails. Then they went to the bar and both got a shot of whiskey. The bartender smiled shyly at Brent but managed not to spill the drink this time. After quickly finishing her shot, and Brent struggling to keep up with her, she told him she needs a shower and will be back in fifteen minutes. Chris moved to the now empty chair next to him and refilled his glass.
'So…' he took a sip of vodka '…why don't you tell me about yourself? For example why did you disappear from your sister's life?'
'We had this stupid fight a few years back… I was in love with this girl… Julie. I wanted to marry her…'
'Marry her? Aren't you like… twenty?'
'Yeah but…'
'Well a few years back means you were…'
'Eighteen…'
'God, American kids are stupid these days. They barely discover pussy and they wanna spend their lives only inside one.' said Chris emptying his glass.
'It wasn't like that. We were in love.' replied Brent, irritated.
'Yeah, yeah… well… where is she now?' Brent bowed his head again because he knew the answer will verify everything that Christoph had just said.
'We… broke up.'
'Stupid damn kids…' murmured Chris taking another sip of vodka, now directly from the bottle.
Vicky came back in the meantime, wearing a clean pair of jeans and a red shirt over a black t-shirt, her long hair still wet from the shower. Chris offered her seat back and took the bottle with him.
'You have a dumbass brother, you know that?'
'Go to sleep, Chris.' she calmly replied.
'Come on darling…' he told the bartender putting his arm around her waist then moving it lower. She giggled again as they went to his room.
'You should go too, you look like crap. Take a shower, get some sleep and we'll talk tomorrow.'
Brent nodded and did as told. Vicky went back in the garage. The floor was dirty with puddles of used oil, dirty rags and piles of rusty screws and small pieces of metal. Three bike engines were lined up on the floor, each in front of a half-assembled Harley. A few fuel tanks were lying around and the old man was mending one of them.
'Hey Eddie, have you seen Richard?' she asked him and he stopped welding and took off his mask.
'Out back. Took the six-pack with 'im.'
The back yard was small and there was rusted metal scattered all around it on the tall uncut grass. Richard was sitting on the stairs with a can of beer in one hand and a cigar in the other.
'How's your brother?' he asked without looking at her.
'He's fine, I told him to get some rest.'
He nodded and took a smoke, followed by a sip of beer.
'Look, I know you're upset about tonight but we'll find it, we're getting closer every time and...'
'It's been seven months already, Vicky.' he said, finally looking at her. 'I was sure that tonight we'd find it. And it was a dead end… as always. I'm starting to accept the fact that I'm never going to see Gavin again…' he took his beer and went inside, leaving her by herself under the starlit sky.
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