Twisted Chapter 1

The expansion of the Pagan's Watering Hole was coming along great. It would be open to the public in no time. With everyone pitching in whenever they had a free moment, along with the actual crew from the construction company, we were making it a quick job. Everyone loved the plan Joli drew up for us. Between her and the awesome construction company we used, it was gonna be fantastic once it was done. We had our friends, the Warriors, to thank for hooking us up years ago with a local builder they recommended. If the Warriors were closer, we'd use A&W Construction, but they were up in Tennessee. They rarely left their surrounding area to do a project, and I understood why. It was to ensure quality of life for their employees.

I was no master craftsman, but I could carry, lift, hammer, screw, and saw with the best of them. Over the years, I've done a lot of different jobs, and working with construction crews was only one of them. You picked up a lot when you lived how I had for years. Thinking of those years, Jesus, where had the time gone? This year, I'd turn forty.

Growing up, forty seemed so old, but when you were facing it, it didn't seem that old anymore. No way would I say I was middle-aged. I was finally reaching the age where I felt I knew what it was I wanted and needed. Didn't people say fifty was the new thirty? So, if that was the case, I was merely entering my twenties. I had to snort at the thought. Yeah, right. Tell it to my body. On cold mornings when I got out of bed, the way my joints would ache screamed, you're getting old, asshole! If my brain was telling me I was twenty, my body was keeping it real, the fucker.

"Hey, Twisted, you done for the day?" one of the construction guys hollered. I was blanking on his name. Shit, was this the first sign of dementia?

Not wanting to stop to talk and have him figure out that I forgot his name, I merely threw up my hand in a wave and yelled back, "Yeah, I'll see you guys later. I got some work to do at my place."

He nodded and waved back, then got back to hammering. Several others yelled their goodbyes. I waved and gave them nods, or chin lifts until I was out the door and free. Trying not to look like I was running, I went to get on my bike. Yeah, it was March in the mountains, and it was cold, but I'd rather be riding any day than caged in a vehicle. That was a fate worse than death in my book.

I was dressed warmly for the ride. Slipping on my gloves and then my helmet, I got myself fully settled and fired up my bike. The loud purr of the engine always brought a smile to my face. I took a minute to rev it and listen to the hum of my engine and how my pipes amplified it. God, there was no better sound in the world. The vibration of the motor through the bike went straight to my gut, causing me to feel warm and excited. Excited about what, it didn't matter. The sound drew you into those vibrations even more. The longer it went on, the better you felt. It was probably why bikers loved to take long rides. It never got old.

I enjoyed the rumble for only a minute because I didn't want to attract anyone's attention and have them ask me why I was just sitting there on my bike, revving the engine with a smile on my face. I could hear the teasing already, even if they were fellow bikers and would know damn well what I was doing. Busting each other's asses about things was a biker's main hobby. I loved to be the buster, not the bustee. If I caught one of my club brothers doing it, I'd for sure blast him.

Sighing, I kicked it into gear and took off. I didn't need to go to my business, the Pagan Depot. It sat just off the highway where Highways 19 and 74 combined. It was a significant traffic area, ideal for a truck-stop-slash-gas station. We'd bought an existing one about ten years ago. It had been rundown, and people seemed not to stop there unless they were desperate or the kind of people you didn't want hanging around your town. We'd spruced it up and advertised it was under new management.

Some people began to stop just because they heard it was being run by a bunch of bikers. Hey, if that was all it took, so be it. My club and I had no problem showing up there with our cuts on. It had the added benefit of keeping troublemakers in check. That wasn't to say we didn't have trouble from time to time because we did. All businesses did. However, those who stopped in and chose to cause it soon found out they didn't want to stay or do it again.

When we decided to make things more formal with our various businesses, such as assigning one or two members to be in charge of each one, the club voted for me to oversee the Depot. I didn't mind at all. Wherever they needed me, I'd go. I think they did it because they knew I enjoyed seeing so many people and talking to most of them. If I wasn't working, I liked to talk to people and find out where they were from.

A big reason I did was I wanted to know about other places and about other people. Maybe it had something to do with the way I grew up. Unlike some of my brothers, I didn't grow up with my parents or even a parent. I grew up in foster care. In my case, I had no clue who my parents were, why they gave me up, or if I had brothers and sisters somewhere. Growing up, I wondered about it a lot, along with the question of why they gave me up as a toddler. As I got older, I stopped asking and accepted my fate.

I was lucky. I never experienced any actual abuse of any kind in the various homes and the main foster center I grew up in. Sure, we weren't treated with lots of love most of the time, but we were fed and clothed and had a warm place to sleep. It was all I came to want. For most of the foster parents, it was a source of money for them, nothing more. As for those who worked at the foster centers, they were there to do a job.

When I turned eighteen, I could've done several things. I'd thought about going into the military, but I was tired of people constantly telling me what to do. I bounced around for a few years, trying my hand at different jobs, but nothing stuck. I was contemplating moving away from North Carolina when I accidentally met Agony, Dare, and Knight one night. We got to talking, and they ended up telling me about their motorcycle club.

I was intrigued, and it just so happened that I had an old bike, which was my only mode of transportation. What could I say? It was cheap and easy on the gas. Sure, my ass froze off in the winter, but so what? It got me to and from wherever I needed to go. They told me they'd seen me riding around town, and they thought I might be someone who'd fit into their club. I asked them more about it. Of course, they didn't fill me in on everything they did. It wasn't something they told outsiders. I found all those things out after I began to prospect for them and then came into the fold fully after they patched me in. But they had told me enough to make me curious and desire to try it.

It was ironic I ended up joining and having to submit to being told what to do all the time, but it was different. In the case of the club, it was only for a year, at the most, and I could always leave if I didn't like it or wanted out. Thankfully, I was able to stand it, no problem. It wasn't a fun year, but I survived, and I wasn't alone. A few other guys joined around the same time. In the end, one of them lived through our initiation and was patched in with me. He became my best friend, Mace.

When we joined, the club wasn't totally legal. They were working on becoming more legit, but it took time and money. Their money had to come from their illegal activities. In the grand scheme of things, their businesses weren't the worst you might see or hear about. They didn't run drugs, kill people for money, or dabble in prostitution. They were no Boy Scouts, but they weren't Satan's own, either. No matter what, they ensured they didn't hurt the innocent. I was able to live with it.

We got even more involved in cleaning things up when we met the Warriors. It was due to our association with Bull and Terror that led to our final jump into becoming a one hundred percent legit MC. Well, we were more like ninety-seven or ninety-eight percent clean. You had to take into consideration the people we still taught lessons to in order to straighten them out and those who earned the ultimate lesson—torture and death. This was reserved for the truly terrible, evil people in the world. No one engaged in that kind of shit was tolerated in our area. If they did those things and we found out, they became our prey.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it when we taught lessons. After all, how do you think I earned my name Twisted? It wasn't because I was deformed physically, like Quasimodo. I was twisted in the head when it came to making people pay for the awful things they did to others. Was I a sadist? I didn't think so, but I bet others would say otherwise. I wasn't into their pain in the way our friend, Payne, from the Hunters Creek Warriors' chapter was. He truly got pleasure from it. I got satisfaction in ending bad people. Totally different in my book.

For me, like my club and those we called friends—the Warriors, Iron Punishers, Ruthless Marauders, Dark Patriots, and the Horsemen of Wrath, we had an innate hatred for those who hurt, targeted, abused, or in any way harmed innocent people, especially if their victims were women and children. That wasn't to say if a man was in danger, we didn't help. Of course, we did, but unfortunately, the world tended to hurt the other two groups way more. Trafficking was the one exception where you saw a lot of men as victims, too. When we dealt with those kinds of people, I didn't look back or regret what was done.

Deciding to just ride for a bit and take in the beauty of the small town I called home, I kept going. It was still daytime, so the temp was about fifty. Tonight, it would drop into the thirties. The sun was out, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was so blue and peaceful. I let the wind chill my face. The gloves and leather jacket I had on would protect me.

Eventually, I found myself riding along the 441 before I got onto BIA-1410. I had to slow down because the middle school was close by. It had let out not long ago. I was on alert for traffic and kids darting across the road. Some didn't use crosswalks or check if they could get across safely. It was due to this tendency, along with distracted parents who often raced to get their kids and forget to watch so they didn't run anyone over, that I was more alert.

I saw a small group of kids walking toward me. They stared at me. I threw up a hand to acknowledge them. They all sped up. I guess they were afraid of the big bad biker. Too bad. I genuinely liked kids. At the compound, the twins and Branson were too small to have fun with, but Cara wasn't. She was an intelligent kid and so fun to tease and talk to. At three years old, she was quick. Knight and Natalya had better watch out when she got older.

Passing the skittish group, I kept going. I was moseying along at fifteen miles an hour since I was in the school zone. Due to this, I caught sight of something that didn't make me smile or wave. It was another group of kids, except most were older, and three seemed to be arguing with two other kids. The two they were arguing with consisted of a young teen girl and a middle-school-aged boy. The girl was glaring at the three teen boys. They were grinning tauntingly at her. The younger boy she kept slightly behind her appeared scared yet defiant. I didn't know what it was they were up to, but I would put a stop to it. I knew a bad situation when I saw one.

As I eased my bike to the curb to come to a stop, the three boys, the troublemakers as I dubbed them to be, saw me. In a blink, they were walking off in the opposite direction after a quick remark to the other kids. I was too far away to hear what was said. As they left, the girl and boy cast me nervous glances, and then they took off walking, too. Not wanting to chance they might get confronted again or jumped, I let them get ahead of me but still within sight. When they were almost no longer visible, I sped up after them. I stayed back where I was still able to see but not crowd them. I didn't want to scare them. I knew they heard my bike, but they kept facing forward.

It wasn't long before we were in an area off of Oconaluftee Drive, where there were a few houses. They hurried inside one of them. Noting the address, I left. During the remainder of my ride, I wasn't able to forget them, and I wondered what was happening between them and the others when I rolled up. Whatever it was, I hoped it wouldn't occur again, but something told me it would.

After I was done with my ride, I headed over to the Pagan Depot. I wanted to check in with my employees and see what they had going on. I trusted them to be able to handle anything and everything that came up, but it didn't hurt to drop in. They were used to it. If they had issues they found they weren't able to handle, they knew to call me. If, for some reason, I didn't answer, then they had a phone tree of other Pagans to call until they got someone.

Entering the store, I tried to recall who should be working right now. I had a variety of employees. As with anyone, there were those I liked more than others. I was grateful they were willing to work and worked hard overall—those who didn't either learn to do it relatively quickly or were gone. Over the years, some hadn't survived. A few who did, I kept a close eye on. Scanning the inside, I saw one of my problematic children, as I called the ones who took more patience and effort. It was Willa.

She'd been with us for two years. She was in her mid-twenties, I think. I honestly couldn't recall from her file. She was a nice-looking woman. There was nothing disgusting about her. There were men who gave her plenty of attention, but it never lasted. She'd get a boyfriend, and they'd be hot and heavy for a few months, then poof, they'd break up. She always found something wrong with them as her excuse. Honestly, I didn't really know if she broke up with them like she told us or if they broke up with her. I could see how her incessant flirting with other men would upset a man.

She worked well enough and would do almost anything you asked without too much complaining. It was this that made me keep her despite her attempts to get my brothers and me to hook up with her. I wasn't sure if she only wanted sex or more, but we had an unofficial policy about not sleeping with our employees. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it would come back to bite you. So far, none of us had violated it. I guess if we ever met a woman wonderful enough who worked for us, one of us guys would do it. Unfortunately for Willa, she wasn't that kind of woman. You were able to find more, just like her, easily.

No matter how many times I turned her down or ignored her flirting, Willa still tried with me. Case in point, when she caught sight of me entering the Depot, her smile widened, and she came rushing over to me. As she did, I saw her thrust out her chest and put a more significant swing into her walk. She wasn't dressed like a sexpot because of our dress code. Otherwise, she'd be letting it all hang out. We didn't have a strict code, but we did ban excessive displays of boobs and asses. I steeled myself to get past her irritating flirting so I could talk work with her.

"Hi, Twisted. I didn't expect to see you here today, but I'm so glad you stopped by. What can I get you?" She had a slightly suggestive tone in her voice. I wanted so badly to roll my eyes at her and snort. It was tough not to do it.

"Hi, Willa. I thought I'd just drop in and see how everything was going. Do you guys need anything?" As I asked, when the other two workers came up.

I smiled at Dawn and Otis. Dawn was a few years younger than Willa, and she was the total opposite. She was shy and would never think about flirting with someone. Otis was in his early thirties. He had a wife and two kids at home. He took his job seriously like Dawn did. I never had any complaints about their work or behavior. I wish we could clone them and use them not only here but in the club's other businesses. Based on what I heard, we all had a few we'd love to trade away for a variety of reasons.

"We're good, Twisted. Is there something you need for us to do?" Otis asked.

"No, just keep up the great work you do. I was passing by and thought I'd stop in."

"I thought you were working over at the Watering Hole today?" Dawn asked softly.

"I did, but I was at a good stopping point, so I took off to play hooky and take a ride. Shh, don't tell anyone," I teased her.

She laughed. "I won't. I promise. Your secret is safe with us."

I laughed along with her, and so did Otis. Once she got to know you, Dawn would joke around. As we did, I caught sight of Willa's upset expression. Uh-oh, she hated not being the center of attention. God, not today.

"Twisted, when are you gonna let me come hang at the clubhouse with you and your brothers? I've been dying forever to do it. You know I'd be more than happy to take a ride with you. It must be lonely riding by yourself. I can help keep you entertained," she popped in to say.

While some employees were known to come to our tamer parties and get-togethers, when the real action started, they were gone. Willa wanted to come as a hang around so badly, it almost killed her. No way would I let her. None of us would fuck her, no matter how much she begged or offered, so it was a moot point. Instead of being so blunt explaining it to her, I left it as we didn't allow employees.

"Willa, you know we don't allow employees to come to the clubhouse unless it's a family or public party day. As for riding my bike, that won't ever happen."

"Why not?" She pouted.

"You know why not. The back of my bike, most bikers' bikes, is reserved for our old lady. I know all my brothers feel the same in my club, so you'll have to find someone else who doesn't care, who'll take you for a ride. It won't be a Pagan."

"I think that's a dumb rule. What if you never find this old lady? Or what if you're overlooking your old lady and taking someone for a ride will show you she's the one for you?" There was that ever so persistent gleam in her eyes.

"It's not a dumb rule. And I might not find her, but if I do, I want to be able to tell her that spot has been waiting for her and her alone. As for overlooking her, it won't happen. I know the signs to look for, which will tell me if a woman is the one for me."

"Oh really, so tell us what those signs are," she challenged.

Unluckily for her, I wasn't about to explain. It was none of her business. "Nothing for you to worry about. Okay, so back to work. How's business been? Is there anyone you've had problems with or made you feel uneasy?"

I listened first as Willa rambled about a guy she thought was out to get her to go on a date with him. I knew if it was true, she'd go, so it was either a lie and she hoped I'd react, or she was making it up. When I didn't bite, she shut up and sulked.

I saw Otis fight back a smirk. He knew what she was like. Most of the time, she amused him. He told me it was like watching a drama show on television to see her life. He joked more than a couple of times that he should pay me for the entertainment. I winked at him, which made him snort. He quickly silenced himself. Dawn gave her a confused look. She didn't understand Willa and never would.

"How about you, Otis? Anything?"

"There were a couple of new truckers in here today. They were with a new outfit I've never seen out of Oklahoma according to their trucks. I tried to talk to them, but they didn't seem in the mood to chat. They were rather closed mouth about where they were from and going. I didn't ask what they were hauling. Other than that, it's been quiet."

"Keep an eye on them if they come back. We don't want any trouble. It's early, so I know they're not out right now, but keep an eye out for the lot lizards, too. You know the drill if you see them."

All three of them nodded. Lot lizard was the nickname we gave to people who hung out in truck stops, offering sex to truck drivers on their hauls. Some of them had been away from home and on the road for days or weeks. I understood getting lonely and wanting sex, but using our parking lot to sell it was a no for us. We knew a lot of them weren't offering to have sex with the truckers or others because they wanted to do it. Many were forced either by circumstances or by others to do so. When we saw it occurring, we ran them off. Many of them offered more than sex, such as drugs, and that was for sure a hell no.

I spent another ten minutes or so chatting with them and saying hello to regular customers who came in. When I saw they had it all under control, I decided I'd ride a short while longer and then head back home to the compound. My recliner, a beer, and a movie were calling me. Later, I might go over to the clubhouse and see who I could get to play a game of pool with me.

Waving at them as I pulled out of the parking lot, I shot down the road, soaking in the last rays of the sun. Ahh, life was good. Who cared if I was going home to an empty house? I had great friends, my club, my work, and so much more. Why pine for more when there was no guarantee you'd be alive tomorrow or that there was more for you out there in the world? It seemed to me it was a waste of time. Let the other Pagans settle down and establish the next generation of little Pagans. Me, I'd keep enjoying what I had.