Monk by Ivy Black

Chapter Two

Monk

Taking a long drag on my cigarette, I let the smoke fill me before exhaling, the thick plume trailing from my mouth and scattering on the wind. I shift on my seat, trying to ignore the dull ache in my ass from such a long ride. I love the rumble of the engine reverberating through my body though, shaking me from head to toe, but it’s not an unpleasant sensation.

The sun is starting to slink toward the horizon, casting the scattered clouds in hues of red and orange. On my right is sheer cliff—a hundred-foot drop—and beyond that, the Pacific, the sun shimmering off it, making it look like an endless pool of gold. On my left are the soaring trunks of the sequoias, the tops of the trees seeming to reach the heavens themselves. It’s warm but not hot, and there’s a cool breeze coming in off the ocean that carries the heavy scent of the sea.

The rumble of my Harley vibrates through my entire body. The wind feels nice as it whips through the shoulder-length, sandy brown hair that’s spilling from the back of my half helmet. This is one of those quintessential, perfect California days that people in other parts of the country only wish they could enjoy.

Cosmo waves to get my attention, then points to Randy’s, a usual stop on our way back from a run to Sacramento. I give him a nod and we pull off the road and into the parking lot. I cut the engine, and the sudden silence is almost startling after nearly four hours on the road with nothing but the throaty growl of my bike in my ears.

“I need a beer,” Cosmo says. “Throat’s dry as hell.”

I unbuckle the chin strap and slip the half helmet off my head, then hang it on my handlebar. After taking off my gloves and stuffing them in my helmet, I run my hands through my hair and give him a nod.

“Yeah. I could go for somethin’ cold,” I say.

We head across the parking lot, the asphalt cracked and pitted, then up the pair of steps that lead to the wide, wraparound porch. Randy’s is an institution. It’s been around longer than the thirty years I’ve been alive, though I’ve never been able to figure out why. It used to be a biker bar. It was before my time with the club, but my MC, the Dark Pharaohs, used to be regular fixtures here. Back then, they say Randy’s used to be dark, dingy, and unfriendly… all key ingredients of a biker bar, apparently.

There’s nothing special about it and yet people flock to the place like it’s some kitschy tourist destination… like that bar in New York where they nail women’s bras to the ceiling. And once the tourists taking a trip up the coast started coming en masse, Randy’s cleaned up a bit and actively started courting those dollars. Not that I blame them. Relying on an MC as your main source of income probably isn’t the best thing for long-term financial planning.

Randy’s still has a certain amount of grit and grime to it, but it’s more for show now rather than being real. It’s like a Hollywood set with everything being staged and framed just to give it a biker bar feel without actually being a biker bar. They like it when we stop in, though, since we lend an air of authenticity to the place. We usually get our meals comped and twenty percent off our bar tab, so I’m not going to complain.

It’s not a bad place to stop for a burger and a beer, don’t get me wrong. The food’s good and the beer’s cold, but the way people show up here, taking selfies non-stop and looking at the place like it’s some wild, exotic locale just makes me shake my head. I will probably never understand people.

Even so, Cosmo and I still like to stop in on our way down from Sacramento to wash the road dust out of our mouths and fill our guts with some greasy food. The bell over the door tinkles as we stroll in, and Bob Seger’s playing on the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner. The lighting is dim, and everything is done in dark wood and fabric.

We head for a table, the peanut shells crunching beneath our boots. We sit down and a moment later, a pretty blonde steps over and flashes us a smile. Her eyes linger on me for a couple of beats longer before she turns back to Cosmo.

“Nice to see you two again,” she chirps. “How you boys doin’ today?”

“We’re good, Maggie. How about you?” Cosmo replies.

“I’m great,” she replies, then turns to me again. “And how you doin’, Monk?”

I give her a small smile. “I’m good.”

She looks at me for a moment as if expecting me to say more, and when I don’t, her smile falters a bit. She clears her throat and turns back to Cosmo, regaining her smile once more.

“I’m guessin’ by the amount of road dust on those kuttes, you’re wantin’ a couple of beers?” she asks.

Cosmo nods. “That’d be great, hon,” he states. “Also, two cheeseburgers, everything on them, and fries.”

“Comin’ right up,” she says.

She gives me another lingering look, then turns and walks away, putting a little more swish to her hips than is probably necessary. Cosmo leans back in his chair and shakes his head at me.

“The only way that girl could be more obvious would be holding up a sign that says she’s into you. When are you gonna grow a pair and ask her out?” he asks.

I shrug. “She’s not my type.”

“Boy, with tits and an ass like that, she’s everybody’s type.”

I laugh and grab a peanut from the bowl, crack the shell, and pop it into my mouth. He looks at me, arching an eyebrow, and all I can do is shrug again.

“I’m not in the market for an old lady,” I tell him.

“Nobody’s sayin’ you’ve got to make her your old lady. But what’s wrong with goin’ out and havin’ a little fun?”

“Nothin’, I suppose.”

Cosmo sighs. “You know, you really live up to your nickname, kid.”

“What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “You don’t talk much. You don’t go out and have fun. Hell, in all the time I’ve known you, I’ve only ever seen you with a handful of women. You do live like a damn monk.”

“I didn’t realize having a vibrant social life was required to ride with the Pharaohs,” I reply.

He smirks at me. “You’re such a smartass.”

Cosmo is the closest thing I’ve had to a best friend in a long time. I met him at a veteran’s support group after I rotated home a few years back. He’s the one who introduced me to the Pharaohs in the first place, sponsored me as a prospect, and spoke for me when they voted on giving me my patch. He’s been a friend and mentor to me.

When I rotated out and got back from Afghanistan, I felt lost. Disconnected from humanity. Totally adrift at sea. I didn’t think it possible, but I came out of the war angrier than when I went in. And back in civilian life, I didn’t know what to do with that. So, I drank. A lot. I got into fights. My life was circling the drain… and then after one particularly vicious bar fight, I got arrested.

I spent about a month in jail, bit given that I nearly beat a man to death, it could have been much worse. The judge, a former veteran herself, was sympathetic and released me on the condition that I enroll in a support group. She believed—or maybe just hoped—that it would help me with some of my anger issues.

Maggie drops off our beers and gives me another smile before she leaves the table, prompting Cosmo to give me the look again. I roll my eyes and hoist my mug, saluting him with it.

He lifts his mug in return. “To great racks and better asses,” he says. “Man, if she looked at me the way she looks at you, I’d be all over that in a heartbeat.”

“Better hope your old lady doesn’t hear you talk like that.”

“If she ever finds out I said it, I’ll know where she heard it from, and then I’ll cut your nuts off.”

“Not going to hear it from me,” I reply. “Besides, I know better. You’d never touch another woman, no matter how great her rack or ass was because you’re in love with her.”

“More like, I’m terrified of her.”

“You’re smarter than I give you credit for.”

“Damn straight.”

I laugh and take a long pull from my mug of beer, relishing the cool liquid as it slides down my throat. As I drink, my mind continues to dredge up pieces of my personal history and how I ended up getting where I am now.

I’m thankful to that judge for her leniency, but I doubt she could have foreseen or would approve of where I’m at and what I’m doing. I’m thankful she threw me into that support group, otherwise I never would have found Cosmo or the Dark Pharaohs. And if I hadn’t, if I’d continued flailing around on my own, disconnected from the world and always so angry, I shudder to think where I’d be.

The MC is made up of a lot of combat vets, and in them, I found the sort of brotherhood I was missing when I rotated home. And when I met Cosmo in the support group, he recognized that emptiness I’ve been struggling with, took me under his wing. And for as long as I’ve known him, Cosmo’s always seemed to know what I need better than I do.

“I’m serious, kid. It wouldn’t kill you to make some friends. Find yourself a woman,” Cosmo presses.

“I’ve got the MC. You guys are all the friends I need.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, we’re not. We’re your brothers, yeah. And you need that. You need to be around guys who’ve seen what you’ve seen. Been through what you’ve been through, share that bond only people who’ve seen combat have,” Cosmo goes on. “But you need more than that to keep yourself grounded.”

“So, what are you saying? I should go join a book club?”

“If that’s what floats your boat, yeah. Where do you think Poe goes on Thursday afternoons?”

“You’re shittin’ me. Poe belongs to a book club?”

He nods. “None of us reads like he does. Why wouldn’t he?”

I look at him for a long moment and realize he’s serious. I try to let the image of Poe sitting around discussing literature sink into my brain and find myself having a really hard time with it. I take a long swallow of my beer and let his words rattle around in my head a bit. Cosmo leans forward, pinning me to my seat with his eyes.

“Having something that keeps you going above and beyond the MC is vital, kid. So is having some friends who aren’t us,” he urges. “If you want to stay out of trouble and keep yourself sane, you gotta have some balance in your world. Gotta have some things that are just for you.”

“Yeah? And what is it you have that’s just for you?”

“My old lady. My kids,” he says. “And you know, I’ve got my telescope. All I need is that—a tall hill and a clear night to find some balance and peace.”

I smile faintly and nod at him. I sometimes forget that Cosmo wanted to be an astronaut when he was younger. Entered the service with that goal in mind, actually. But some bad breaks and even worse timing derailed that dream for him. It’s easy for me to forget that’s how he earned his nickname—his passion for space and the cosmos.

But I’m not like Cosmo. Or even Poe, for that matter. I’ve never been the most gregarious of people on my best days. My upbringing didn’t really prepare me to be a social butterfly. It taught me the value of keeping my head down, how to survive, but not a whole lot more than that really. Making friends has never been really high on my to-do list. Or, to be perfectly honest, something I’ve ever been very good at.

“Yeah, well, I guess I never had time for hobbies growing up,” I admit. “Aside from sports, I never really found anything that really lit me up.”

“You’re young. You’re barely thirty, kid. You’ve still got lots of time to figure it out. And you absolutely need to do it. Having something that’s just for you that you enjoy helps keep the demons at bay,” he tells me, tapping his head with his finger to emphasize his point.

He’s not wrong. Most days, it feels like I have more demons in my head than they exist in Hell itself. Most of them come from being the product of a couple of junkies and an abusive home. A childhood like that’ll fuck anybody up. Frankly, I’m kind of surprised I didn’t turn out worse.

“You’re a good kid,” Cosmo says. “You just need to get your head on straight. Finding some friends and finding a good woman can help settle you down.”

I laugh. “You seem pretty hung up on me finding a woman.”

“Kid, if I had the looks and body you do—and hot little pieces of ass like Maggie all but begging you to bang her—you can bet I’d be knee-deep in naked chicks and panties on the floor every fuckin’ night,” he replies, a wide grin on his face.

I shake my head, still laughing. It’s never been about getting laid for me. It’s more than that. And as I think about my upbringing, letting my mind drift back through the years, her face pops into my head. She was the only solace I had back then. The only bright spot in an endless series of increasingly dark days. She had always been able to temper that rage inside me. She was special, that one.

But then, I did what I’m best at and fucked it all up and left her without so much as a goodbye. I know I had my reasons. Good reasons. But I also know she deserved better than to simply be ghosted like that. And now, here I am all these years later, having nothing but regret about it. A frown pulls the corners of my mouth down, and I push all thought of her aside.

No use thinking about her or that time now. They’re both long gone.

“You okay?”

Cosmo’s voice snaps me back to the present and I nod absently. “Yeah. All good.”

“You sure?”

I nod and Cosmo scrutinizes me further but decides to let it go. Raised voices across the way draw my attention. I see Maggie glaring furiously at a pair of guys, and one of them has her by the hand. She’s trying to pull away from him, but he’s a pretty big guy. I look over at Cosmo and see his expression darken.

“I got this,” I tell him.

“Don’t do somethin’ stupid. Those are pretty big dudes.”

I give him a look of faux innocence. “Good thing you’ve got my back then.”

“Yeah, you keep thinkin’ that.”

The chair legs scrape the wooden floor as I get to my feet. And as I make my way over to the booth, Maggie sees me. Her eyes widen and I see them flash with hope. As I step to the table, the guy holding onto Maggie’s wrist lets her go. She takes a step back, rubbing her skin and glares at him. The two guys—jocks, and probably frat boys by the look of them, stare back at me balefully.

One’s black and looks like he plays middle linebacker, with wide sloping shoulders and thick, corded muscle. He, at least, has the decency to look abashed by his friend’s behavior and won’t meet my eyes. The other is blonde, has a lean frame, and looks fit and strong. Probably a swimmer, I’d guess. He’s wearing cargo shorts, a polo shirt, canvas shoes with no socks, and a red ballcap—the official uniform of the spoiled and entitled everywhere.

They’re both younger than me and radiate an arrogance so thick, I can smell it. The sort of arrogance that comes from being young, entitled, and never having to fend for yourself. They never know what it’s like to live outside their bubble, and never seem to learn that actions carry consequences.

Well, they’re about to learn that lesson.

“Got a problem?” red hat asks.

“You headin’ back to school?” I ask.

The two frat brats exchange a look with each other, confusion on their faces.

“Yeah. What’s it to you?” red hat snaps at me.

“I think it’s best you get on the road then.”

His eyes narrow, he can sense the challenge. “I think it’s best that you mind your own business.”

Time to mark the territory. “You’re not from around here, so I’m goin’ to give you a one-time free pass,” I say, my voice low and harder than steel. “You’re not from Blue Rock Bay. Don’t belong here. This town belongs to the Dark Pharaohs, so I suggest you get on back to school.”

The black kid shifts in his seat uncomfortably, but red hat is looking at me with a condescending smile on his face as if he’s amused by me.

“Dark Pharaohs? Is that supposed to be intimidating or something?” he mocks.

“Dude, chill,” his friend says, casting a nervous eye at me.

“You should listen to your friend. He’s obviously smarter than you,” I tell him. “This is our town. You don’t roll through here and lay hands on people. Especially women just trying to do their job.”

“Would you relax? I just wanted her number,” he snaps.

“Didn’t look to me like she wanted to give it.”

“It’s between us. Why don’t you just fuck off.”

“Dude, Chase, stop,” says the other kid. “Let’s just go.”

“I haven’t finished my beer yet,’ red hat—Chase—says.

The black kid fishes some money out of his pocket and drops it on the table. He looks up at Maggie, giving her an awkward smile.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “We didn’t mean anything.”

I turn to red hat. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You got anything to say?”

He sighs as if bored by the whole thing, and judging by the arrogant smirk on his face, obviously still not believing he’s done anything wrong. Then, his eyes widen, his expression changing, and he looks as though he’s suddenly thought of something profound.

“I get it. This is part of the whole biker bar experience. This is like immersive theater—”

He never finishes his statement because, moving quickly, I grab the back of his head and slam it down on the table, making the silverware clink and nearly tip over the bottles of beer. The kid across from red hat leans back, his eyes wide, a look of shock on his face. Red hat throws his head back and covers his face with his hands. Blood squeezes from between his fingers, spattering on his baby blue polo.

“You broke my nose. You son of a bitch,” he cries, his voice high-pitched, nasal.

“Immersive enough for you?” I ask.

The buzz of conversation around the bar stops, leaving us in a silence that, aside from the music—Journey is playing now—is nearly complete. Well, except for the gasping wheeze and whine of red hat. I start to feel the weight of all eyes on us. I plant my hands on the table and lean forward to him. His hands are still clamped over his nose, but his eyes widen, and for the first time, I see fear rather than his smug arrogance in them.

“You don’t come into our town and act like you own it,” I bark at them. “In fact, don’t you come into our town again. Ever. I see you in Blue Rock again, and that nose is goin’ to feel like a tickle. You got me?”

He mumbles something from behind his hands, but between his rapidly swelling nose and his hands covering his mouth, I can’t make it out. Instead, I turn to his friend.

“Get him out of here. And don’t forget what I said. Neither one of you’s welcome in Blue Rock ever again. You got me?” I sneer.

The kid nods. “Yeah. I feel you.”

I watch as he helps red hat out of the booth and then walks briskly to the door and out. When it swings closed, everybody turns back to what they’ve doing—the tourists and those passing through, buzzing excitedly about what just happened. It’s an immersive experience after all, I guess.

Maggie throws her arms around me and squeezes me tight, and I’m uncomfortably aware of her tight little body pressed to mine. She’s firm and yet soft in all the right places, I can’t deny that. And contrary to what I’ve told Cosmo, I’ve thought about taking her home with me more than a few times.

The only thing that’s held me back is that I’m not looking for a one-nighter. I’ve had my fair share. While I definitely enjoy sex and sometimes get that itch that needs to be scratched, I get the feeling that Maggie is looking for something more than that. And I have no desire to lead her on nor use her in that way. She’s a nice girl and deserves better than that.

She stands on tiptoe and plants a kiss on my cheek. “You’re drinking free all night.”

I show her a pleased look. “Thanks.”

She bounds off, and I head back to my table where Cosmo is leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning like the damn cat that ate the canary. I can’t stop the corners of my mouth from curling upward as I reclaim my seat.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” he says.