SHAY
“It’s everything I dreamed of and more,” I gasped as tears pricked the back of my eyes. I closed them tight, trying to stave off the deluge of emotion as it plowed against my chest.
I held my hands over my mouth and stared lovingly at my store’s sign. The old—fashioned round bulbs surrounding it blinked prettily, like the ones found in the old Hollywood movies or outlining hotels along the Vegas strip. Definitely not something you see regularly in Grants Pass, Oregon, my hometown.
The lights twinkled and flickered, then lit up in a line around the words that meant the world to me.
“Biker Babe,” I whispered, a gigantic smile on my face.
A roar of applause, cheers, and the growling of motorcycle engines being revved blasted the air around me. A pair of thick arms encircled me from behind and held me close against a big barrel chest smashed against my back. A scratchy beard and the scent of motor oil and leather hit my senses at the same time the most familiar voice in the world spoke.
“Proud of you, Princess. You done good. My girl. My baby girl is now the owner of a business.” My father’s voice was thick with pride. I knew in that moment I’d never forget those words or that feeling of absolute joy as it settled over me.
I smiled proudly and held onto my father’s arms. His brothers, their old ladies, even the club girls made an appearance, though the girls stood way in the back, nowhere near the wives and girlfriends. All were here for the reveal of my new store, Biker Babe.
My mom pushed at my dad’s arms. “Riot, give me some time with my girl!”
“My girl, my princess, my baby.” Dad growled and kissed my temple.
Mags to the club, Magdalene on her birth certificate, and also my mother, cocked a leather—clad hip and put her hand on it. Her black matching leather property vest was fitted to her tiny waist perfectly, showing off her hourglass figure, something I also got from her stellar genetics, alongside her temper.
She narrowed her gaze, shooting daggers at my father, who simply smirked and grinned in response. Dad loved when my mother got fired up. Usually that type of response ended with my father physically lifting my mother over his shoulder and taking her to his room where he could give her a “talking to”—code word for a hard fuck to cool that fire he loved so much.
“Your girl, your princess, your baby…” she repeated in a sarcastic tone.
Dad squeezed me again and kissed my cheek that time. “That’s right, woman.”
“You forget that she’s my daughter too, and I had a hand in making her all that she is.” She waved her hand up and down. “Look at her. She’s my spitting image.”
And she was right. Thank God. My mom was hot as hell, even at fifty. My hair hung down my back in long dark waves, my eyes as blue as the sky on a good day, icy gray—blue normally, just like hers.
“Not her height or her grit, Mag Pie. That’s all me. Right, Princess?” He snuggled my neck and gave me a bunch of scruffy kisses until I giggled and pushed away.
I held my arms out to my mother.
She pulled me into her embrace. Mom was only five feet four inches. Me, I’m five ten, so I tucked my head into the crook of her neck. My mom held me tight and sniffed. “You did it, Shay—la—la. I knew you could, and you did.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and held on to Mom even tighter, soaking in her own brand of roses and leather scent. “Thank you, Mom.”
Dad hooked his arms around both of us.
“I couldn’t have done it without both your help, especially financially,” I murmured into our huddle.
I stepped out of their arms and looked at all the brothers lined up, arms crossed over their large chests. Every single one of them big, badass, scary as all get out, and the most beautiful family anyone could ever hope to have. All of these men, their old ladies, heck, even the club girls, supported my decision to open my own business.
“I want to thank you all for everything you did. From gutting the old building, to creating and painting new walls, to the plumping, and windows and décor…” I shook my head as the tears started up again. Biker babes are taught to be tough, so I did what I could to hold the tears at bay. “This is my dream, and I know you all gave up a lot to help me.”
“It’s what families are for!” Tank, the Sergeant—at—Arms, hollered out. He handled the security for the club and assigned the duties for the Enforcer.
“Fuck yeah,” Champ agreed. Champ is my father’s Enforcer. He kicks ass first, takes names later. For his day job, he runs the club gym and boxing league, one of the many businesses the Hero’s Pride Motorcycle Club owns in Grants Pass and the surrounding cities.
A warm hand landed on my shoulder from behind and squeezed. I jumped back, clutching my chest and turned to find Shadow grinning.
“Jesus! What did I tell you about sneaking up on me! Make some noise once in a while, you freak!” I pushed at his chest playfully.
Shadow chuckled and pulled me into a hug. “Happy for you, Princess.” Shadow is one of the younger members of the club but seemed to be wise well beyond his years. Then again, he was a covert operative in the CIA. Got his road name because he’s sneaky as a ninja. Not to mention, he can be in a crowded room and not be noticed. Also tends to disappear from the club, sometimes for months, but he always comes back.
“As I was saying…” I raised my voice. “You are the best and most supportive family a girl could ever ask for. I love you. You’re welcome in my store any time. In fact, I demand it!”
Everyone cheered again and took their turns to hug me and shake hands with my father, who was standing by my side, chest puffed up, beaming with pride and love.
God, I have the best family in the world.
Speaking of family, I saw a little blonde head and a giggling face attached to a small body being held on the shoulders of none other than my twin brother, Shane. Though no one but me and Mom call him Shane. He’s known as Whip to the club.
“Now, who is this beauty? I think you grew. What are you, seven feet tall now?” I smiled up at my gorgeous niece.
“No, silly. Daddy is here!” She patted his dark head.
“All right, Sunflower, down you go.” My brother dipped his head and pulled his daughter off his shoulders. She bum rushed me, hugging my legs quickly but then went right over to my father who scooped her up into a teddy bear hug. She’s a total Daddy and Grandpa’s girl. Which I got, because I am too.
“Sis, sorry I’m late.” My brother hooked an arm around my neck and plastered me against his chest. I held onto his cut and squeezed until the nearness of my twin settled my heart. We’d always been thick as thieves. I guess sharing a womb fosters such a connection. It’s never been easy for us to be apart for any real length of time. Even now, he rents the apartment next to mine. We literally share a wall, and that’s the way we like it. Sometimes, however, the number of women that come through his pad and the sounds through those walls are hard to swallow. Those are ear plug nights.
For us, though, the hardest separation came when he was serving in the military. I tried to forget about that time because I was completely off kilter and listless without my bro in the area.
The deal with The Pride is everyone has or is currently serving the community or the country in some way. Whether it be military, a civil service branch, firemen, doctors, or all the way up the chain of government. That’s the one rule of entry into the club. Service. Hence the name, Hero’s Pride.
“Shayna was being a pill about getting dressed. You know how it is with her sometimes.” My brother sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck.
I could see the dark circles under his eyes. Being a single dad, taking care of a four—year—old, being a member of the club, and working at the club’s bar was a lot for a twenty—five—year—old man trying to make a life for himself and his daughter.
I clapped a hand on his bicep. “It’s cool. I’m just glad you’re here. Just look at it!” I gestured to my new store. He looped his arm around my shoulders and gazed at the shop with its black painted concrete walls and big display windows. In one window was a full—sized Harley Davidson. It was our grandfather’s, and Dad thought it would be a great display in his memory. Everyone agreed. Next to the bike is a mannequin wearing a pair of skintight jeans, badass suede heels, a studded leather belt, and a Harley tank complete with sequins around the collar. I’ve got a sharp black bobbed wig on her, like the one Uma Thurman wore in Pulp Fiction, with hooped earrings and a horde of dangling necklaces, as well as silver bangles around her wrists. There’s a leather vest displayed, jeans, jewelry and all kinds of biker babe necessities. The other window has a male and a female mannequin dressed to the nines. Leather. Studs. Accessories. Everything biker babes and bikers drool over.
I made sure when I designed my store to have seventy percent of the product be geared toward women; however, women love to shop for their men. I know for a fact the old ladies do. Which means I’ve got the staple tees, Harley merchandise, Zippo lighters, men’s rings, brass knuckles, and silver jewelry galore, which is handmade by a local kickass artist. Basically all the things a man would like and his woman would want to buy for him. I even have a saucy little section of some sexy lingerie, whips, floggers, and toys behind a beaded curtain. I also transformed a walk—in closet into a small adults only section where I could display pipes and other paraphernalia the brothers liked to enjoy.
The best part, and the reason why I’ll have brothers all over the West Coast coming in, is my leather tooler or tailor depending on the needs. He’s my ace in the hole. Cricket is the grandfather of the club and a master of all things leather. A veteran in every sense of the word from his time in ’Nam to his time in the club. He helped found it with my dad, the President, but he didn’t want to take on a leadership role. Just wanted to be part of a team again.
For me, he tailors the leather for the babes, makes the cuts and sews the patches on cuts for the brothers, and creates custom pieces for a hefty price, of which I get fifty percent. He comes and goes as he pleases, but that’s the life of a biker. I could never tell a brother what hours he’s supposed to work. It’s just not something one does. Besides, I like my beauty sleep and never had a problem with late hours, so my store is open from eleven to seven for now. Cricket usually rolls in after lunch sometime and leaves for dinner at the clubhouse. When I get bigger and really start raking in the cash, I’ll hire more help to work whatever hours are needed. For now, I’m just happy it’s finished. And it’s absolutely beautiful.
“Princess, you gonna open the doors or what? My old lady is drooling over a tank she can see in the window that she swears is going to show off her sweet titties. And you know I’m a man who likes my woman’s tits,” Hammer, one of the brothers, hollered.
I sighed. “You’re a pig.”
“Oink, oink,” he snorted.
My mother came over to me and laced her fingers with mine. “You ready to open up your store for the first time?”
I gazed at my beautiful shop, my mother, father, brother, giggling niece, and The Pride at my back.
“Absolutely.”
She squeezed my fingers and passed me a key with a golden metal keychain with the club’s insignia on it. A roaring lion’s head and the words Hero’s Pride on the top and Oregon under the animal’s wild mane. What not everyone knows, but a lot of people probably suspect, is my parents gave me the capital to open my business. I owe them seventy—five grand.
I licked my lips and stared deeply into my mom’s icy blue gaze, the same as my own. “I’ll pay you back, with interest.”
Dad cuddled my mother close, dipped his head, and whispered. “You’ll do no such thing. The money we gave you is yours. It was put into an account for you over the years in case you wanted to go to college, buy a house, or whatever you want. This is our gift to you to start your life. We have the same offer for your brother. He’s holding onto his for now as he looks for a home for him and Shayna that he can afford.”
I couldn’t help the tears that fell. “I love you so much, Mom and Dad. I swear I’m going to work hard.”
Dad and Mom both smiled huge. “We believe in you. Now hurry up, I want first dibs on those skulls that artist made before Champ gets a look and scores all the good ones.” Dad lifted his bearded chin up toward the red painted doors.
I grinned. “You get first dibs on anything, Daddy.”
He nudged my mom as she rolled her eyes. “See…my baby, my girl, my biker princess.”
