^^ Banjo ^^

It only takes us twenty minutes to get to the clubhouse. The bikes go slower than I guess they usually would, making sure to stick with the van. I'm honestly surprised that I've been in town for a few weeks now and have somehow managed not to bump into to any of the guys. From the lack of interest from the people we pass, I guess that they were a common fixture around town, and yet I'd been oblivious to their presence.

From the outside, the clubhouse looks like a pub, if you ignore the "Bulldogs MC" sign that hangs over the door. The front door opens to a bar area with tables dotted around, a pool table in the corner and a large T.V screen on the end wall. As Skids leads me through a door behind the bar, I realise that the building goes a lot further back than it seemed to from the outside. There is a long corridor with several doors on each side. He had explained to me on the way here that most members live elsewhere - including him - but the rooms are available for whoever needs them. Especially after a heavy night when no one is in a fit state to drive home. He leads me to the door furthest from the bar and shows me in. There is a double bed against one wall, with a wardrobe and chest of drawers on the other side. A door at the back of the room leads to an en suite and I am overjoyed to see a bathtub as well as a shower. I can't remember the last time I'd had a long soak, rather than standing in a tiny shower cubicle.

After I've dumped my stuff, he leads me back to the bar and introduces me to Banjo. From the first instance, I knew we'd be great friends. He is about six foot tall with blonde hair that falls into his face. He is the same build as Jay, with hazel eyes that hold a mischievous twinkle. He doesn't shake my hand like the others had, instead he pulls me into a giant hug. Before Skids can speak, Banjo does.

"Now I know she can't be your old lady. She's way out of your league!"

And this is how I know we will be friends. He gets as much joy from winding people up as I do. I turn to look at the others and a laugh escapes me. Pest seemed to have gotten over his fear of Sammy and was currently feeding him bits of ham. Sammy's tail wags happily as Pest throws the meat into the air for him to catch.

"I'll stay here with the wolf while you pick up your stuff from storage," he tells me with a grin. I roll my eyes and decide against arguing whether Sammy was a wolf or not.

As I climb into the cab of the flatbed, squashed between Banjo in the driver's seat, and Skids on my other side, I look around in confusion. Every body is getting on their bikes, with Jay leading the way. As the van pulls out to follow them, I turn to Skids.

"Do you always go everywhere together?"

He nods. "Aye. At the minute we do,"

I decide not to ask anymore. I have the feeling that the less I know about the club's business, the better.

"Which reminds me," he speaks again. "Two of the guys will go with you to work tonight." I open my mouth to argue but he puts a hand over my mouth to stop me. Normally I would've licked it to get him off, but I have no idea where those hands had been. "They will take you there, and wait for you to finish, then they'll bring you home. Do not argue."

I sigh and nod. Whatever's making them all travel together is obviously enough to get him worried, so it's pointless to argue.

We pull into the storage lot and I direct Banjo to my unit. I couldn't help the excitement bubbling up in my chest. I unlock the padlock and chuck it to Banjo, who catches it after fumbling, and I can't help but laugh at him. I turn to Skids and grin, pushing the door up.

Inside are two shapes covered with tarpaulin, and a few boxes. I pull the cover off the first vehicle and Banjo whistles. It's my Kawasaki ZX6R, my baby. It's black with purple accents. Banjo goes to run his fingers along the tank, stopping when I slap his hand away and scowl.

"You still ride?" Skids asks.

I nod. "Not as much now I've got Sammy. And I don't race anymore, I got into stunting a few years back,"

"You used to race?" I hear Jay ask from behind me, and I jump. I'd forgotten the others were there.

"Motor cross," Skids explains. "Taught her everything she knows. She was bloody good too!"

I grin and turn to look at him again. I wiggle my eyebrows. "Ready for your pressie?" I ask, chuckling when he looks confused and nods. I move to the other cover and pull it off slowly, watching his face.

"No!" He gasps. "That's..." He trails off, moving towards the Harley that's now revealed in front of me. "How?" He asks.

"Well, after you trashed it in a tantrum," I start, winking at him. "I had it picked up. I fixed it up, got it running again and kept it ever since. I thought you'd come back for it one day," I shrug.

Skids had gotten drunk when he found his wife cheating and had taken a crow bar to the bike. When he'd sobered up the next morning he'd been furious with himself, and instead of fixing it, he sent it to a scrap yard owned by a friend of his and my dad's. A couple of months later he'd left the country, and I'd collected the bike. He'd shown me for years how to fix bikes. I'd broken so many when I was first learning to race and he'd said that if I didn't know how to repair it myself, I shouldn't race. I'd kept his bike in the hopes that I'd see him one day, and when I snuck out of England I made sure to bring it along with mine.

I jump when I'm picked up off the ground. Skids wraps his arms around my waist and laughs. I feel tears prick my eyes at the pure joy on his face. I fight them away and laugh with him.

"You fucking beauty!" He yells, spinning me round. He puts me down and I stumble into Smiler and Jay, who still have impressed looks on their faces. They both put a hand out to steady me and I grin at them.

"What's in the boxes?" Banjo asks, already moving to rifle through them. He whistles again and I turn to see what he's found. It's my leather all in one that I wear when stunting. "I think you should model this for me later," he winks. I flinch when Smiler's hand tightens on my arm where he'd steadied me.

I look up at him and he removes his hand, before walking out of the unit and lighting a cigarette. I shake my head in confusion and turn back to Banjo. "You never know," I wink at him, laughing as his eyes widen and he stutters. Jay moves forward and yanks the leather from his hands. He puts it back in the box and shoves it into Banjo's chest, pointing to the van.

"Is all this stuff going with us?" Jay asks. I nod and he directs the others to grab a box each. At least this will save me some money, not having to rent a unit out. I watch as they load the bikes onto the flat bed - we had finally managed to peel Skids off the Harley - trying not to cringe as they move my baby. Skids had confiscated my gun this morning and I'm not sure I could take any of them by hand if they scratched it.

I'd worried when they parked both the bikes outside the front of the clubhouse, but Jay had eased my mind by assuring me that no one would touch anything parked there. I still covered my one up though. Arizona was dusty and I want to keep her shiny. I know, I'm such a girl.

I'd managed to get a couple of hours sleep in before Banjo woke me up with a plate of food. He informs me that he and Smiler are taking me to work and then hands me a phone. I look at him, confused.

"Skids noticed you didn't have one so he set up this for you,"

I groan and mumble under my breath that there was a perfectly good reason I didn't have a phone, but on seeing his concerned look I wave it off and decide not to explain. I get my work outfit ready and apply some mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss. There is no point doing my hair until I get to work. My car is still in the garage so I'll be riding, and helmet hair is never attractive. I shove the clothes and my hair products into my backpack, grabbing my helmet and bike jacket from a box I'd brought from storage.

When I get to my bike, I see Smiler and Banjo waiting by theirs. A thought comes to mind, but it is squashed instantly by Skids.

"Don't even think about trying to lose them. Your bike might be faster, but it'll be worse when they find you,"

My shoulders slump and I reluctantly agree. I kiss him on the cheek and wave to the others before getting on my bike. I start the engine and take a moment to appreciate the sound; I've missed riding it. I ignore the looks I'm getting from the men, who had all decided to see me off. I have a feeling that they just wanted to see me on the bike, so as I pull out of the pub, I pull a wheelie up the road, grinning at the adrenaline that floods through me every time I ride.

In ten quick minutes we pull up at work and I park my bike out the back, knowing my escorts will follow. I take my helmet off and turn to look at them as they park up on either side of me. I smile, trying to look innocent.

"So I don't suppose that I can count on you both to keep your mouths shut about anything that happens here tonight?" I ask. Neither of them reply, simply raising their eyebrows at me. Dammit. I really don't want Skids to find out about the dancing thing. I'm pretty sure I could persuade Banjo to stay quiet, but I get the feeling Smiler wouldn't be so willing.

I dance for six hours, with two fifteen minute breaks, and by the end of the evening, I am exhausted. My legs feel like jelly and my feet are killing me. The club had been dark, only lit by the strobe lights, but I had been overly aware of Smiler and Banjo at the bar all night, neither taking their eyes off me the whole time I had been in the cage. I usually spent my breaks at the bar, but I had avoided the awkward conversation with them both by hanging in the staff room at the back. I didn't rejoin them until I was back in my normal clothes, and instead of talking to them, I just motion for them to follow me. I start the bike quickly and put my helmet on before they can talk to me. When we get back to the clubhouse, I scarper straight to my room with Sammy, saying I was too tired to talk. I am so screwed.

***

You'd think that after twenty-two years of knowing me, Skids would know that mornings aren't my best time. He hadn't been there when we got back last night, but he definitely made his presence known this morning - by barging into my room at 7.30 a.m, shouting. The bastard didn't even bring me coffee.

"Get up! And put some bloody clothes on!" He yells.

"Fuck. Off." I moan, trying to bury myself deeper in the bed. It was past two when we got back and I'd had nowhere near enough sleep.

I'm up in an instant when he yanks the covers off me. I'm only wearing a large t-shirt and my underwear, but I push past him, walking out of my room.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He shouts after me.

As I walk out to the bar to find the coffee machine, I yell back. "If you're gonna fucking yell at me, I need a damn coffee!" I look up from the machine to see Banjo and Smiler sitting the other side of the bar. Banjo has the good grace to look guilty, but Smiler's face is blank. "Nice one guys. Fucking lovely." I tell them. I know they've filled him in on my dancing, hence the Irish temper coming out this early. I pour my coffee as Skids comes through the bar, still fuming. "Can I get dressed before you start? Or shall I just stay here half naked?" I ask him, knowing it will shut him up for at least a minute. I hear Banjo cough behind me and turn to find both men's eyes on my bare legs, where my shirt ends at mid thigh. I roll my eyes and flip them both off, before moving back towards my room. Skids follows as I knew he would.

"Care to explain?"

"I dance for money. In a cage. Where no one touches me. And my clothes stay on," I tell him, yanking clothes out of my drawers and tugging them on.

"From what I heard, they can't be counted as clothes,"

Oh, come on. I wore short shorts and a crop top. Everything important was covered. I wear less at the beach! Of course, I don't say this out loud, it's pointless.

"Skids," I start, trying to reign in my temper. "I'm not a child anymore. I'm a grown woman and I can make my own decisions! You haven't seen me for six years. What gives you the right to comment?" Okay, so my temper may not be so easy to reign in. I had no hard feelings about him leaving, I never had. But apparently, my mouth had forgotten this for a moment.

"You obviously aren't making good decisions if you're acting like a damn whore!" He bellows.

Oh, fuck no. I grab my helmet and jacket and shove him out of my way. He makes a grab for my arm but I'm too quick. I hear him asking where I'm going and yell back at him.

"Well if I'm gonna be a whore, I should go and make some fucking money shouldn't I?!" It's then that I realise everyone is now at the bar, watching all the drama unfold. "Fan-fucking-tastic," I mumble, slamming the door and heading to my bike.

I am shaking with anger. The man who had been a father to me for most of my life had just called me a whore, after six years of no contact. I was used to being called a whore for the majority of my last relationship, but coming from him, those words cut deep. I don't look back as I speed out of the car park, just wanting to get away before anyone could follow. Once again, I'm running. It's all I know how to do anymore.