Days passed since Rebecca and Hull had had sex, and Rebecca’s mood didn’t improve. She didn’t know why she was so against dating the man again. She had loved him once, and she was sure she still loved him. But…she had hurt him…and she was scared. She didn’t know why; she didn’t know of what. She just knew she was scared. She had been scared by how easily Hull had taken to the idea of being a father. It had sent her running, which in turn had sent him running. Apparently she was still scared.
Besides Weasel, the only other friend she still had in the Hammers was Gloria, an older woman in her fifties. She was a true blue biker chick, all blue jeans and black leather. Her hair was white, but she dyed it blond, and it sat on her head in a big way, poufy and in a style that hadn’t been seen in most places since the seventies. She always wore too much makeup, and she was loud and always ready for a fight. Rebecca loved spending time with her.
On a Saturday they got together to ride, heading into the country, whipping past barns and farmhouse that were nothing but a blur as they sped by on their Harleys.
They ended up in a little country bar called Hank’s. No one in the Hammer’s frequented it, so it was a nice getaway for Rebecca since the bars closer to home were full of other Hammers, most of who made her feel uncomfortable and unwanted since she had broken up with Jason.
Rebecca parked her bike next to Gloria’s and then followed the older woman into the bar. It was early afternoon, and there were just a few people at the bar and another three, all biker women, at one table in the corner. The women wore their colors, their black vests bearing a black rose. That was their name, the Black Roses, and Rebecca knew they were a club for women only. They also had a reputation for being a bunch of hotheads who caused trouble wherever they went.
Rebecca felt eyes on her and her friend as they sat at the bar. An old fat man with a bad comb-over took their order and set two beers in front of them. Rebecca had only taken two swigs by the time one of the Roses was at her side.
“Don’t see many Hammers up here,” the woman said as Rebecca looked at her. She was younger than Gloria but older than Rebecca. She had bright red hair and a face full of freckles.
“Don’t see many women as ugly as you,” Gloria said, leaning over her friend. Rebecca sighed and closed her eyes. She knew there was going to be a problem. That was who Gloria was.
“You’re in our neck of the woods,” the red-haired woman said. She had her name sewn into her vest. It said Red.
Gloria snorted. “Red, huh? They give you all imaginative nicknames out here.”
“My daddy called me Red his whole life,” the woman with the flaming red hair said. “You talking bad about my daddy?”
“Is he dead?” Gloria asked.
Rebecca smirked. She could see what was coming. She picked up her beer and down it.
“He is,” Red said, “God rest his soul.”
Gloria took a drink. “I’ll drink to that. He’s in a better place. Anywhere you don’t have to look at your ugly mug is surely a better place.”
“You bitch,” Red said. She glared at the two other women at the corner table and they got up. Rebecca glanced back at them. There was a woman about her age with a shaved head named Mabel and a dark-haired beauty of about fifty named Holly.
Rebecca had been in fights before, but she had never started one. But something about Red, and something about the way Rebecca had been feeling since sleeping with Hull, made her want to hit someone. And so she did. She stood up quickly and set her feet, and then she sent her closed fist flying into Red’s face. She felt the woman’s nose snap under her knuckles, and when she pulled her hand away, she saw blood gushing from Red’s nostrils, as crimson as her hair.
Red stumbled back. Rebecca saw Gloria turn to take on Mabel, and then Holly was upon her and she had to focus on that. She turned just as the woman shoved her, and Rebecca fell hard into the bar, slamming her ribs on the edge. She gritted her teeth and grabbed her empty beer bottle. She swung it at Holly’s head, but the pretty woman ducked it and planted an uppercut on Rebecca’s chin. Her head snapped back and she saw stars. She almost fell, but the bar kept her upright, and Rebecca shook the pain away with two quick twists of her head. Then she stepped forward, throwing the bottle at Holly.
The woman ducked, but Rebecca was already following up with a roundhouse punch, and it connected with a dull thunk to the side of Holly’s head.