Bikers and Pearls (9 page)

He rubbed his temples. “’Kay then. I’ll let you know before five.”

She stepped outside his office, leaned against the wall, and released the air in her
lungs. She didn’t know she’d had it in her. At least she could tell the group at the
tackle shop that she had tried.

Oh, my goodness.
The tackle shop. She supposed there was no getting around it now. There was no telling
what she’d find there. Probably bass boats, bad food, and lots of beer. But that was
really nothing in the end. She placed the picture on her desk. Ben was worth everything
she’d encounter at that bar-and-tackle place.

Then without notice, other pictures flashed through her head. Ambulance lights. Her
father with his twisted leg on a stretcher. Her mother’s tears at the hospital. She
pushed the images away with her fortified will and sat up straight. If she would have
to deal with her wrecked family, then she’d do that, too, for Ben.

April kept glancing at the clock. It was getting late, and still she hadn’t heard
from Charles. She needed a back-up plan. Jenna Bellingham. Her father was in insurance,
too. One of the really big companies in Charleston. She gave Jenna a call and got
her father’s number.

April called Mr. Bellingham and ran the idea past him. He sounded interested, but
he had to look into it, as well.

Right before five, April stepped back into Charles’s office. She knocked on the door
frame. She knew how to handle the man. “Charles, don’t worry about looking into that
policy for the rally. I think it may already be taken care of by Mutual of America.”

He pushed away from his desk. “April, I was thinking. The leukemia-boy fundraiser
would sound great to headquarters. The motorcycle thing isn’t my cup of tea. And I
know it’s not yours, either, but we can’t buy that kind of publicity. I want us to
do it. We’ll insure the rally.”

She smiled at the good news she’d have for Bull that night.

“One thing, though. I want you involved at every turn. You’ve got to ensure that helmets
will be worn, the speed limits will be followed, and our risk is kept to a minimum.
That’s the only way we can do it.”

Ensure? She could tell them, but she didn’t know if she could ensure anything. Then
she thought of Ben again. If she could ensure something, though, she would for the
sick boy.

“You have my word.”

She had to have been the most stupid woman in Summerbrook.
You have my word
. What was she thinking?

What she needed to be thinking about was her cell phone, so she stopped quickly at
the store and picked up another one. Just like the one she had and called her parents.

“Hey, Mom. How’s Dad?” she asked.

“A bit tired this week, honey. He’s still having some angina in the evenings. After
the news,” her mom said.

“Well, you shouldn’t even let him watch the evening news. It’s just filled with crime
and debauchery. You know it’s going to stress him out.”

“I know that, dear, but your father’s hard-headed. Determined to have his way if it
kills him.”

April let out a little chuckle. That was the same thing her dad always said about
her mom. Two hardheaded seniors set in their ways.

“Dear, are you coming up for Sunday dinner this week?” her mom asked.

“That’s what I was calling about. Actually, I’m involved in this charity fundraiser
through Mr. Houseman, and I’m not going to be able to make it for several weeks.”

“Hmmm. Your dad will be disappointed. But we’re proud of all the charity work you’re
doing, dear. We will see you on your birthday, though, right?”

“Sorry, Mom. But that will be the last busy weekend. The following Sunday, for sure,
though. Okay?”

“Okay, sweetie. Stay safe,” her mom said.

She hung up. Her thoughts churned and darted as she drove toward home. Hopefully,
her parents were under control. But little else was.

As she passed the square in the center of town, she looked at the huge live oaks that
framed the verdant park. Wrought iron benches were set out in even rows along the
center, and a fountain sculpture of children decorated its middle. It all looked so
pristine and cultured.

Shaking her head, she just couldn’t imagine a couple hundred motorcycles circling
the park and passing by the quaint antique and decorating shops. What a dichotomy
of images. What a mess.

When she got home, she perused her closet again for a suitable outfit. She grabbed
her only pair of jeans from the shelf—the ones she’d worn last night—and stared at
them. She opened the chest at the foot of her bed and threw them in, doubting she’d
ever wear them again.

She raked through the closet one last time. Maybe she’d simply wear what she had on.
She wasn’t going to fit in with the group anyway, no matter what she wore. They were
going to be in chaps and do-rags, and she was going to be in Ann Taylor.

It was nearly six, and if she wanted to be on time, she’d have to speed things up,
but as she brushed her hair, the doorbell rang.

“Jenna. What are you doing here?” That was a stupid question. Jenna stopped by whenever
she wanted. She didn’t need a reason.

“I thought we’d have dinner together tonight and watch our favorite movie after?”
she said as she kicked off her shoes, tossed the
Shag
DVD on the table, and headed toward the kitchen. “Those things are killing my feet.
Got to look good at the shop, though.” She reached for a glass. “Do you mind?”

April shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t. Something’s come up.” She eyed her favorite
dance movie on the table. The one she and Jenna had been watching covertly since they
were young girls. The shag was South Carolina’s state dance, and since she didn’t
get out dancing much, the movie satisfied her love of the dance. They’d have to watch
it another night, though.

Jenna examined the picture on the refrigerator that Ben drew. “So cute,” she said,
and took her glass to the living room and sat. “Well, ditch your plans. We can go
to Oscar’s. I hear tonight’s special is shrimp and grits. Our fave.”

“Can’t.” How was she going to get out of this with Jenna without a lengthy explanation
before she had to leave? Which was now. April had barely bought some time last night.
An idea came to mind. “I have some group-insurance speech I have to deliver tonight.”

“Where? Maybe we can meet there afterward and go out. If it’s at a restaurant, we
can even eat there. As long as they have shrimp and grits.”

“Not tonight, girl.”

Jenna turned abruptly on the couch and her smile disappeared. “Oh, no. You’re meeting
that guy again, aren’t you?”

“I’m meeting a whole group, Jenna.” April couldn’t completely blame Jenna for her
reaction. April had filled her friend’s head with her own anxieties since they were
in elementary school.

Jenna stood. “I know when I’m not hearing the whole story. He’s going to be there,
isn’t he?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. There’s nothing I can do to get out of it. It
is
about work. And it’s for Ben. You know how I feel about him.” She grabbed Jenna’s
hand. “I have to go.” April didn’t say that she wanted to. Wanted to see Bull, that
is.

“But he’s a biker, April,” Jenna said. “A biker who used to belong to Rebel Angels.”

The two women stood, staring at one another. It was a standoff. But April knew she
was going to win.

“Humph
.” Jenna gathered her things. “I see. We haven’t had secrets before.” She paused at
the front door. She tapped the DVD on her hand.

“We don’t have
secrets
now. Goodness. I’ve gotten myself into this situation, and now I have to see it through.
You’re going to have to understand.”

Jenna opened the door. “This time I’ll be waiting for
you
to call.”

“I will. I promise I will.” April locked the door behind Jenna.

Making promises. Giving her word. April was neck deep in chrome, rubber, and leather—spicy-scented
leather. She was making promises and giving her word, but she wasn’t certain she could
back up any of it.

As she drove, she couldn’t believe she was headed to Marvin’s Bait and Tackle Shop.
It couldn’t be as bad as what she’d heard from her mother. Surely, the police didn’t
practically “live” there, breaking up fights and arresting drunks like her mother
had said.

No. Her mother had over exaggerated many things the same way her Mimi had before she’d
died. They were worrywarts, and April was determined not to follow in their footsteps,
but it took work to break a family habit.

Anyway, weren’t tackle shops in the South a sort of common man’s country club? Where
one could find a bucket of bait and a burger basket—among other things—if he wished?
That was the general impression April had away from her family. On April’s salary,
it would be the only country club she could ever afford.

Going to the tackle shop still made her uneasy. But this time she couldn’t blame anyone
for her troubles. She’d made her own bed. Dug her own grave. There was no getting
out of it. She’d talked to her boss, and she’d have to meet with these people in weird
places where she knew no one. Except for the man with the spicy smile. At least for
a while. That was going to be tough, but she would do that for Ben. And to be near
Bull while she helped raise money for Ben.

All that was left for her to do now was to inform the group about minimizing the risks
for the rally. That was about it. Once she would eventually get Jenna all settled
down, she’d be home free. Jenna and she’d been through too much together for them
to have something like this cause problems in their friendship.

The paint on the street sign was faded and peeling. Advertised under Marvin’s name
were
night crawlers, crickets, and blood bait
. Under that was
hotdogs, burgers, and boiled peanuts
. What a combination.

As she’d expected, there were all the bikes and trucks. A man with a leather bandana
dismounted his Harley, and a woman with a camouflage sweatshirt hopped out of a similarly
painted pickup with dog cages in the back. These were the kinds of people that Bull
hung out with. Which was fine. They just weren’t the kind of people who were going
to get her into the Ladies League. But this wasn’t about the Ladies League. This was
about Ben. And there would be plenty of time to deal with Jenna and the Ladies League
later if she still wanted to.

In the parking lot, one motorcycle was painted three shades of pink and had Sissy
Cycle engraved on its side. Another was painted black and had florescent blue lights
blinking in internal hiding places. Its name was Midnight Rider. She walked in a wide
semicircle to avoid getting close to them. No telling when another might have a weak
kickstand.

As she made her way to the door, bandana man held it open for her.

Southern manners just like she’d been taught.

She walked through, completely missing the food inspector’s rating that should have
been placed on the door.

Wonder how low those things go?
This place could have a Q rating. Quit while you’re ahead. But she was already inside.

Hanging on the walls were all manner of dead fish—a big one with a stick-looking thing
protruding from the front—probably a swordfish or a marlin, but she wasn’t sure. She’d
never actually been saltwater fishing. On another wall was a small one with a mouth
that looked like it was doomed to say “Nooooo” for an eternity. They gave her the
creeps.

She walked past a huge tub with a sign that read
Minnows
and up to the register. The smell of chili and onions was strong, and there was an
endless supply of fishing paraphernalia on the displays and shelves around her.

Aside from the obvious dangers, the risk-assessment manager in her ran all kinds of
bacteria-laced scenarios through her head.

The skinny, old man who was stirring something in a crock-pot finally turned around.

“I’m looking for the fundraising party,” she said.

“Oh, you must be April.” He came from behind the counter and wiped his hands on his
white apron. “Bull said to keep an eye out for you. Come this way.” He was bent over.
His skin was leathery from years in the sun. He opened the door to a back room.

Crank was already addressing the group.

The old guy said to Bull, “You were right on both counts.”

But what was Bull right about?

Bull smiled. A couple of people at his table chuckled.

She held her palms up and squinted. What was that all about? It sounded good-natured,
but she wasn’t the best judge.

Bull reached over and pulled a flier out of the stack she had brought. “This looks
good if I have to say so myself,” he whispered. His closeness stirred the fireflies
in her tummy again and warmed her. She wished he’d stay close to keep them fluttering.
She enjoyed the feel of it.

She leaned even closer to get a look at what he was eyeing. He really had quite a
talent with computers and graphic art designs. And she had quite a talent with copy
machines.

“We simply have to get the word out,” Crank said from the end of the bar. “Bull, you
got those fliers?”

Bull stood and passed them around.

“The more we distribute, the more money for Ben. Remember that,” Crank said.

When Bull finished, he asked, “Crank, how many do we have signed up already?”

“Right at two hundred. At fifty dollars a pop, that’s almost ten thousand. Lookin’
for a lot more, though.” He stared at the flier in his hand for a moment. “I guess
you heard about our problem. Summerbrook won’t let us ride in and around the square
without the extra group insurance. That’ll be in addition to your own personal stuff.
But I think we’ve got someone looking into it. April, I hear you started to check
on that for us?”