AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The Stone Crow.It’s an eclectic mixture of all the pitfalls of society dregs.
Some are here for a good time, some for a wild time, but mainly they’re all drunks.
There are of course the usual suspects that you’d expect in any hard liquor serving establishment; the regulars with their own seat at the bar, creepers who came to hook up with random strangers and chat up anything that moved, and the after-work 9-5’ers escaping for a while before they go home to the wife and kids. Predominantly however, it’s filled with all the men your mother warned you about and to stay away from.
Oh, and then there’s the bikers.
I’ve taken this job for the easy money plus it’s not exactly rocket science. Bartending’s something I’ve done in college, though that was a million years ago now and not exactly something that I thought I’d see myself doing again, that is until I found myself in Bracken Ridge.
It’s not lost on me that this feels like failure, that somehow, I am just hiding out from all the baggage that I thought I’d left behind in California, left for good along with a whole boat load of painful memories.
The only good thing about a Friday night at the Stone Crow is the time goes fast; you’re too busy to think or question your life’s choices, just keep the drinks flowing, don’t make too much eye contact and oh yeah, stay away from the bikers. Hence the reason I’m here.
The Bracken Ridge Rebels MC.
A motorcycle club who owns half of this joint as well as a lot of other businesses across town. They hang out here sometimes and I’m sure that’s just to scare some of the unruly patrons away.
I’ve been here two weeks, six hours and counting. My estranged Father, Max, passed away suddenly and left me as a beneficiary in his will. That would be sad if I’d known him or even liked him, but I didn’t, and now he’s left me everything he owns.
He lived in this dreary little blue-collar town for more than half my life. My parents divorced when I was small, and he’d always been a big drinker and a bad gambler. He also wasn’t very forthcoming with child support oranykind of support for that matter. I’m only here now to clean up his mess. Why he left me anything, I’ll never know.
I’m well aware he has a string of bad debts, unpaid loans and an even worse reputation of being a first-class A-hole.
So, this is where I find myself, in this strange little town run by bikers with even stranger people I don’t know, in a bar that smells like stale beer and fish fry.
I temporarily live in the apartment upstairs; the co-owner, Stef, doesn’t use it, and she’s taken a liking to me, plus the rents cheap and no-frills. I’d prefer that than having to rent a house I can’t afford or worse, share with a stranger.
Despite my complaints it’s been a good thing to get away from Cali and all the bad memories there including a psycho ex-boyfriend and a restraining order. I never thought I’d be one ofthosewomen but sadly I’d put up with way too much for way too long, and when things turned physical, I was lucky to get out when I did.
Now this is where I exile myself, a zillion miles from anywhere.
My main goal is to sort Max’s affairs before the nasty lawyers and bank foreclosure step in to do it for me. Once I clear it all up there may be some cash left at the end of it, if I’m lucky, and then I can escape this god forsaken place and start fresh somewhere new.
Dear old dad owns a farmhouse in the country a few miles out of town, as well as a couple of shops on the main street that are leased, and the biker’s clubhouse out of town.
I try not to shudder at the thought.
The motorcycle club owns the building to their headquarters but not the land, they’ve been leasing it from Max for years. Subsequently, they now want to buy it, and while it’s a cut and dry transaction, I don’t exactly relish the thought of having to go to that meeting.
“Yo beautiful, buy yourself one.” The guy I’ve just laid a couple beers down for yells at me, distracting me from my thoughts. I smile sweetly and put the tip in my jar, which overflows most nights. It’s only because I’m fresh meat and disengaged from reality, a lot like my current surroundings which I try to blot out. Still, I move on up the bar without a second glance to the next customer who can’t keep their gaze at my eye level.
It’s nothing to brag about; a simple Ramones tank-top and skinny black jeans is all it takes to get the guys around here excited, which just goes to show the level of intellect, God help me. I try all night not to roll my eyes at every second person ogling or slurring incoherently like they don’t have a drinking problem. I try in equal measures not to throw in the towel, because this is better than what I could be doing. This is better than my actual reality, one I refuse to go back to.
In all honesty I need this, the anonymity.
I can do what I want. I get to be someone else for a while,anybodyelse.
That’s freedom, that’s my source of power. And this ridiculous town called Bracken Ridge is just the place to do it.
* * *
We pull up outside the devil’s lair, although for all intents and purposes the gnarly skull and cross bones sign out the front declares it as the Bracken Ridge MC Headquarters. Subtle.
My attorney Laney Locket isn’t from around here. I figure its best to hire someone out of town who isn’t influenced by this notorious motorcycle club, plus I’ve watched Sons of Anarchy. I kind of know how things work and I’d prefer them to work in my favor.
I have to be smart about this.
I’ve done some research and gotten valuations on what property is selling for around here, and while it isn’t a boat load of cash it will still be enough to pay back all the bad checks Max wrote, plus put a couple of months on the mortgage payment to get ahead. I don’t need the bank foreclosing on me, that would be a disaster. There’s a for sale sign in the front yard being banged in as we speak, and it’ll be listed online by the weekend.
