Owned (3 page)

“Well, I need to see Mr. King,” I responded.

“I’m sorry. Mr. King is in meetings all day. He’s asked that I hold all calls and turn away visitors. I’m sorry, but I can take your name and have him call you,” she offered.

“If you would, just let him
know
Doc
is here to see him. I’ll wait over there,” I said as I pointed to the waiting area.

“Doctor….?” she asked, her voice trailing as if she needed more.

“Just Doc,” I said as I turned toward the waiting area.

She picked up her phone as I walked toward the seats that were arranged in a circle around a glass table. The table was covered with magazines, many of them motorcycle magazines. I chose one of the current magazines and began to flip through the pages, looking at
the photos. As I studied a photo of a new modified Harley Davidson, I heard a familiar voice call my name.

“Doc Ead, to what do I owe this visit?”

I turned and looked in the direction of the voice. Dressed in navy slacks, a light blue shirt, and a navy blazer King stood to my left, his hand extended. I stood and reached for his hand. A firm handshake turned into a hug. As I patted him on the back, it was apparent he still worked out more than he actually worked.

“The club stumbled onto some things and your name came up. Can we talk?” I asked.

“Interesting. Come in my office, Doc. We can talk there,” he said as he turned and walked toward his office.

King, by nature, was intimidating to most people. At just short of six feet tall, close to 200 pounds, with a shaved head, goatee, and covered in tattoos - he certainly wasn’t an invitation for a conversation about religion or politics. Dressed in his business clothes, he looked like a boxer that was headed for a press conference. He closed the office door behind us, and sat in a chair beside me.

“So, what’s going on, Doc?’ he asked over his shoulder.

“I’m going to make this quick, King. Quick and simple,” I studied his face. His attempts to hide his worry were unsuccessful.

He nodded slowly.

“One of the hang
arounds in our club was about to prospect, he’d been around for about a year. To cut to the chase, he was a thief. Stole a bike from Nacho’s garage, and broke into Shakey’s place and stole firearms and some other valuable stuff that was accessible,” I took a breath and exhaled.

“Last night, Bear and I acquired access to a wareho
use that the thief owns. He sub-leases it from another shit-head in this town.  Most people don’t know he even has this place. We found out he had it, broke in, got some files, and a lot of information about previous thefts and stuff he’s selling on the internet. We found some information on his computer. Looks like he stole some stuff from you too,” as I was speaking, King stood up and removed his jacket.

“Who?” he asked as he tossed his jacket onto his desk.

“King, that’s why I am here,” I said as I stood from the chair.

“Who the fuck is it?” he asked again.

“King,
we
want to handle this. What happened to the club is club business. What happened to you is your business, but we don’t want to muddy this up. I’m here as a matter of respect to let you know what we found,” I turned and walked toward him.

He turned and looked me in the eye. His anger was apparent. Like the rest of us, I was certain he felt violated, used, and lied to. I waited for him to speak. He rubbed his hands together and did just that.

“So, you going to tell me?” he asked as he walked away from me toward his desk.

“Went by
Slick
, King. His name was…”

“Dave fucking Daniels?” he growled from behind his desk.

I nodded.

“Son of a goddamned bitch.
I let that mother fucker into my
home
. I loaned that little prick money when he was broke, I…” he turned to me, his right fist clenched, rubbing it into the palm of his left hand.

“Here’s the thing,” I reached into my rear pocket of my jeans.

I unfolded the two sheets of paper and handed them to King. He looked at the first sheet, studied it, and looked at the second sheet. He turned to me, his mouth open, but didn’t immediately speak.

“It looks like he has the stuff at another warehouse. We don’t know where for sure, but he still has it. It’s listed ‘for sale’ right now,” I offered, standing on the other side of his desk.

“These mine?” he asked, shaking the papers I handed him.

“They can be. But, you can’t have them, technically. We didn’t go about it
legally
,” I responded, arms extended, my palms facing up.

King raised one eyebrow, opened a desk drawer, and placed the paperwork inside.

“So, where are we on this?” he asked as he walked around the corner of the desk.

“Well, we want to get your shit back to you. We want
Shakey’s shit too. But
we
want to handle this. If
you
handle it, it may be a problem for the club. People will assume whatever you do to this guy came from the club. We don’t need that attention,” I responded, waiting for an answer.

“God damn, Doc.
He stole from
me.
You know what we did to a thief in prison?” he responded, shaking his head back and forth.

“He stole from all of us, King. I’m here out of respect, I didn’t have to come here, we both know that,” I said as I gestured toward him with my open hands.

“I hate people on the outside - you never know who you can trust. Hell, in prison, I could leave my shit out in the cell block, and people would leave it sit for a month. Hell they’d never touch it. You know why? Because it wasn’t theirs,” he complained, rubbing his hands together again.

“Well, you aren’t in the joint anymore, King. You’ve been out for a while.
What, five or six years, huh?”

“That’s not the point, Doc. My point is that there’s no room in my world for a thief, liar, child molester or rapist,” he stood with his hands at his sides, fists clenched.

“Let’s reach an agreement. The club will decide tonight how we’re going to handle this. Out of respect to you, we brought you this information. Out of respect to the club, we ask that you support our decision. That’s why I’m here. We need you to support the decision we make,” I said, hoping he would consider honoring the decision of the club.

“Tell you what, Doc. I’ll do it. I’ll keep my mouth shut - for the club. I have this guy beaten, and the cops are going to come to you, you’re right. I wouldn’t want that either. But I ask this of you. You come to me and let me know what the decision is. Where is this little prick now?” he said as he walked toward me, his right arm extended.

“He’s in jail awaiting arraignment. They’ll set bail, he’ll bond out. He’ll probably be out tomorrow,” I said as I extended my hand and shook his hand.

As we shook hands, he pulled me close to him and hugged me. When he did, he growled a whisper toward my ear.

“Get my shit back, Doc.”

“I’ll do my best, King,” I assured him as we separated.

“Hell Doc, who can we trust? I don’t feel like I can trust anyone anymore,” King said as I walked toward his office door.

“Hell, I’m beginning to wonder,” I pulled at the door handle and held the door open.

“Let me know what you decide,” he patted me on the shoulder.

I turned to him and nodded my head in affirmation. As I walked out to my bike, I mentally restated the obvious.

Who can we trust?

KELLI.
The night I skinned my knees at the parking garage Erik stayed over and slept with me. That night, something changed. Something in me changed, and I believe something in him changed too. I felt that we came together that night – we became a little closer. Maybe we made a step in the direction of progress. I told myself in the beginning that I wanted to get from him what I could - for the summer. After a few months, I came to the realization that I was really truly enjoying my time with him. Now, it had become difficult for me to imagine
not
being with him.

People aren’t all attracted to the same things. We drive different cars, wear different clothes, and have different tastes in what we find to be valuable or attractive.  What I like may not be what everyone else likes, but
I
like it. Erik had proven to me through his way of acting and his way of treating me that he was what I wanted in a man. Erik was, for what I desired in a man, perfect.

Now, it was up to me to convince him
that I was perfect for him. No one else could satisfy him the way I could. I had tried to prove to him I would do anything he asked of me, and I planned on continuing for as long as we were together. Satisfying Erik satisfied me. My satisfaction made me eager to continue to satisfy him.

I feel like our relationship feeds itself. If Erik is satisfied, I am satisfied. If I am satisfied, I am content. The feeling of being content, of being whole, and of providing Erik with a level of satisfaction no one else could provide him with endorsed the fact that I was valuable. Feeling valuable caused me to want to eagerly continue the process.

I was, for the first time in my life, a part of something greater than myself. I was not alone, and I did not feel alone. The only other relationship I had, if you could call it one, would have been with my father. I felt, growing up with him, that I was his daughter and he was my father. I never felt like we were a family. I felt like he was
required
to be with me, because he was my father. He wasn’t with me because of who I was or what I provided. He was with me because he had no choice.

Erik
chose
me.

Every day Erik was with me meant I was more valuable than anyone else he could choose to be with.

I don’t ever want to disappoint him.

Pulling into the parking lot at the strip mall both excited me and made me uneasy. Heather had chosen the restaurant, and I agreed. Il Vicino, to me, was where Erik and I started. I looked at it as if it was
our
restaurant. I felt like I was cheating if I went there without him. Heather stood inside the front door. As soon as I parked the car and got out, she walked out the front door and toward the car.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting ten minutes, and I was ten minutes late,” she complained as she walked toward me.

“I was tied up at work. I got out of there late, just busy,” I said.

As we walked up to the restaurant, I looked at Heather. She appeared as if she was proud of herself. She looked content.
Happy. Satisfied. Other than when she won a volleyball game, I had never seen her look this way.

“You look so happy,” I said as we walked through the door.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier, this is so crazy,” she responded as she turned my direction.

“You boobs are massive, are you prego?” I asked jokingly.

“The girls are always massive, and God no,” she bragged as she squeezed them together with her upper arms.

“You know what you want?” I studied the menu, knowing I would pick the salad.

“Yeah,” she responded as she walked to the cashier.

“Put them together. I’ll have the cobb salad and water,” I said to the cashier as I pulled my credit card from my wallet and handed it to her.

“I’ll have the #4 pizza and a Bud Light,” Heather turned from the cashier and smiled.

The cashier handed us a number for our table, and assured us a waiter would bring the drinks to the table. As we turned to walk to a table, Heather spoke.

“Who comes to an Italian restaurant and orders a fucking salad? That’s retarded, you skinny little bitch,” she said, laughing.

“I don’t come here because I want Italian food. I come here because I like the salads. I don’t eat
Italian
food
. Well, not unless I have to,” I rubbed my hand on my stomach as we walked through the door to the outside seating area.

“I’ll never understand you and your weird diet,” she sighed as she sat down.

She was dressed in a pair of black pants and a burgundy short-sleeved top and looked fabulous. It wasn’t typical dress for Heather, but it was what she’d been wearing since she met Teddy. I had just got off of work, and was dressed about the same, black dress slacks and a white top.

“You look nice. Why the change in clothes? I like it, but Teddy wears jeans and tee shirts,” I mumbled as I pulled my seat out and sat down.

“It feels good to look nice. All Teddy does is tell me how pretty I am. I dress like
this
, and I believe him. He likes it. If we’re not on his bike, this is how I’ve been dressing,” she answered, pointing down toward her waist.

“Well, you look great, and you seem happy. You get your hair done? It looks healthy.”

“No, I’m going to on Thursday,” she responded as she flipped it over her shoulders with her hands.