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But then they’d gotten older, and Max’s eye had started to hurt. The tumor was growing, and, because of where it was, in his frontal lobe in his brain, it was pushing on his eye. It was pushing its way out of the front of his skull. It didn’t take too long until you could see it visibly. At first it was a bit of a bump. It didn’t look too different to the mark or raised area that would be left from taking a tumble, falling off a bike or something. But it got worse. It was at the point where it did look pretty bad. Painful and sore. It had pushed out his eyelid, so that the red underskin was visible. Sophie and her parents weren’t bothered by how it looked, they were bothered by the pain it caused. Max said sometimes it hurt, sometimes it would swell up and throb, if he got grit in his eye for example. Other times he didn’t seem in the slightest bit bothered by it. But the other kids his age noticed it, and were bothered by it. Teased him. It meant girls didn’t go near him. It meant he was constantly frustrated and angry at the world.
The seizures continued. He was diagnosed with epilepsy and the trips to the doctor involved more about ‘learning to cope’. He hated it. Even the prospect of getting an ice cream after the appointments no longer cheered him up. The prospect of him living independently as an adult grew thinner each day. Sophie wanted him to have a place in the world. He was angry because his options were growing smaller and smaller. College was out. So he played up in school no longer needing good grades. Working with any type of machinery was out, because of his epilepsy. Even getting his driving license, getting a car.
“No. No more appointments,” he said quietly, after the longest pause.
Her brother rang her most evenings, and she tried to keep him interested, motivated. She liked talking to him on her walk home, so that when she got home, she could immediately relax and unwind.
But, like tonight, Max was more recently less available for her, or wrapped up in some drama at home. Grounded, ranting about their annoying parents. Or gleefully telling her about some new fight he’d gotten into with boys at school, a new wheelie trick he’d successfully landed on his skateboard… he was still very much a teenager. And he never wanted to talk to her anymore about his medical prognosis. Who was she kidding? Sophie sighed. Max wasn’t ready yet, to talk about his tumor, to deal with the rest of his life, living with the consequences of it.
“Alright, well, I’ll speak to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Bye, Max, love you.”
“Yeah, love you, Soph.” And Max hung up immediately.
Sophie was home now, she unlocked the door to her apartment with a breath of relief. It wasn’t dissimilar to that enigmatic biker, Phantom. He clearly wasn’t ready yet. She wanted to talk to Phantom, ask him to sample her ice cream, or stay for a coffee. Hell, go out for a coffee, a drink, or dinner. She wanted to get to know him. She’d watched and wondered long enough. Was this her new business self coming through, sweeping away the patient, kind ‘hippie’, possibly naive girl who she’d been before, according to her parents anyway? No, she was still all of that, she just wanted to run a successful business, and she shouldn’t have to choose. Just like with Phantom, she wanted more with him, and she felt determined to get what she wanted. She could be kind and sweet and patient, but she could also aim for what she wanted, too, couldn’t she?
But he seemed unable to talk to her. He’d been terrified earlier, horrified. When she had seen an opening to talk to him she had seized it. The crying kid and the harassed mother, who had been terrified of him. Sophie had been both delighted and terrified to finally get the opportunity to speak to him. And a little embarrassed. Her fantasies swimming in her mind, too close to the surface. She knew he’d see them. But when he hadn’t even said a word back to her, she was surprised. And then her heart rate had picked up when he’d beckoned for her to clean him up. Oh god. Her body had pinged and tightened and tingled. She probably shouldn’t have, but she’d touched his face, his lips. Her hands had moved of their own accord. She’d wanted to, to hell with whether it was appropriate or not. She thought he’d liked it, but he’d stormed off again. At first she’d wondered if she’d annoyed or upset him. But she realized he was a complex character. Not confident, not shy. He had his boundaries, clearly.
When she was at home, later in the evening, getting ready for bed or getting in the bath, she could indulge in letting her mind embellish scenarios involving Phantom. She was only noticing him watching her, because she was watching him more, too. She was desperate to know his story, desperate to find out and have another opportunity to get close to him.
Luckily for her, the perfect opportunity would come around soon enough.
“Right, listen up everyone, first point on today’s agenda, our fucking new assignment,” Colt barked loudly, calling the group together. He clapped his hands together twice, and the men of the Black Coyotes MC took their seats. They hunkered down around a large, long table in the clubhouse bar. Shadow the cat looked up from his bed on the bar, then nestled his head down onto his paws and closed his eyes. He wasn’t in his little wheelchair, he was curled up in his little cushioned bed, watching on with wise, knowing eyes.
They were still in the process of finishing the refurbishment of their clubhouse, a former fancy country club hotel. They hadn’t finished the meeting room that would become their ‘church’ yet. They all just gathered around a table in the bar, sent the sweetbutts and any other hangers on away and got down to business.
Phantom took his seat at the farthest end from Colt, he was the latest patched in member, the latest one to move from prospect, basically an apprentice, to a fully fledged member of the MC. He’d managed it in an unheard of short time because he’d literally lived and breathed for everyone at that table. They had saved him and there was not a thing he wouldn’t do for them.
He glanced around the table. Ash, the Sergeant at Arms, was seated to the left side of Colt. The space to the right was empty. Colt hadn’t yet appointed a Vice President. It had raised eyebrows but Colt kept the space empty for now. Then there was Jared, the former marine who owned the construction company Colt had engaged to refurbish the hotel. Some of his guys had joined up or were hangarounds in the least, making full use of the free booze and free women at the clubhouse. They weren’t at the table for this meeting, though. They were members, but they were happy to follow whatever Jared said, basically. Then there were the twins, the mixed race dancers who’d run away from some sort of sex den they were trapped in before joining the MC. Officially they were prospects. Rita, with her pink hair and fishnet tights, all five-foot nothing of attitude. And Rafe, over six foot, pin up model beautiful, effortlessly cool. Well, Rafe was a member, being a guy, Rita wasn’t strictly allowed to be a member, or be a prospect, a point of contention she constantly challenged.
“Rita, you can’t be here,” Colt said, trying to shoo her with a nod of his head.
Rita raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow and fixed him with a stare. “Why not?”
Colt sighed. They’d had this argument every meeting.
Ash piped up, “‘Cause you’re a woman. We need to think on this, Colt, if we want to change the charter or not, we need to add it to the agenda and actually make a decision-”
“No, you don’t, I’m here and I’m here to stay, so you better just fucking get used to it, no need for discussions or voting or amending any fucking charter-” Rita began.
Jared sighed. “Rita, save it, honestly, we know, it’s shit, we know, it’s antiquated, we know-”
“Then fucking change it, don’t just follow dumbly because that’s what’s always happened-”
“I promise we will talk about this at the next meeting, okay, Rita? Letting women become members of an MC isn’t something we can just decide on lightly, it would set a precedent, other MCs would have an opinion about it, it might bring unnecessary heat-”
“Colt, come on, since when do you worry about that?” Rafe flicked his chin up.
Colt raised both his hands. “I hear you, I really do. You think April wants this? Trust me, you and her could fucking rip the rulebook up together, but I’ve really got to focus on the most pressing fucking issue-”
Rita wasn’t going to back down without a fight. “Colt I-”
Colt banged his fist on the table. Everyone flinched. “There are two fucking things wrong with who is at this table!” he yelled. Even Phantom felt chastised and he hadn’t said anything. He never said anything. He looked down at the table.
Colt continued, “Rita, I am pretty sure you will be sitting at this table in no time at all with a patch on your jacket fucking bossing it, but right now, please, you cannot be at the table.”
