Post by Admin on Sept 15, 2021 2:17:40 GMT
Days Inn
Redwood City, California
September 11th, 2021
“Why am I even here?”
Victoria sits on the blacked-out Harley Davidson Sportster that her Uncle John (who apparently looks nothing like Tony Savage) bought her last December, with her full shield helmet in her hands resting on the teardrop gas tank. She sighs as she takes the key out of the ignition and places them in the pocket of the plain black leather riding jacket she is wearing and gets off her bike. She double clicks a key fob, and the horn honks once and the headlight flashes to signal the alarm is armed. She straightens out her blue jeans with both hands, checks her hair in the side mirror and pulls it back into her signature ponytail. She walks into the front lobby and is greeted by a front desk customer service representative. The name tag reads ‘Sheila,’ and Victoria smiles at her as she places both arms on the desk and leans forward slightly.
“Hey there, Sheila, could you point me in the direction of room 206? Maxine Riggs room.”
Maxine Riggs, her mother’s former protégé and the woman that broke her heart when she started sleeping with her grandfather, the deceased Scott Nash Strader. The woman smiles back.
“Ahh yes, Miss Riggs said she was expecting a pretty blonde girl. Just go down the hall, take the elevator to the second floor, and it’s just a few rooms down the hall on the right.”
“Thank you, have a good night.”
Sheila returns the sentiment as Victoria makes her way to the elevator. After thirty seconds, she finds herself standing in front of room 206. She takes a deep breath before knocking.
“Just breathe; she said she wanted to talk about a family matter…”
*Knock Knock*
After a few seconds, the French Canadian powerhouse known as Mad Max opens the door, and both women do their best to hide the genuine attraction that is still between them.
“Bonjour, Victoria. Come in,” she says in her thick French accent, trying her best to maintain a platonic stance with her ex.
“Hi Max, thanks.”
“Oh my god… she looks amazing. She’s wearing that perfume, Juicy. She knows what that does to me.”
Victoria slides past Maxine as the door closes and automatically locks as a hotel door should. Victoria sits at the small round table by the balcony door, as Max, dressed in black LuLuLemon yoga pants and the same brand purple tank top, sits on the edge of the Queen size bed. Victoria unzips her leather jacket and takes it off, revealing a simple green turtle neck, modest for a modest young woman. Max hangs up the jacket for her, and Victoria’s cheeks puff out slightly as her eyes widen and she exhales into her words to break the awkward silence.
“Ok, let’s get this over with; this is super awkward. She’s playing a game wearing that perfume. I just know it.”
“Sooo, you said something about having something grandpa had on my dad?” Maxine could hear in Victoria’s voice the unsureness about being in the same room. They had made up after Scott had died, but that was more so it wasn’t awkward for Cara (as she was fiercely loyal to her childhood friend and sister) while CFH was a part of Uprising. She hadn’t seen her since the night Meghan was arrested on TV during a tribute to SNS.
“Before Scott died, he was afraid. He wouldn’t say why, as much as I tried to coax it out of him,” her accent was shaky with her words. Her nervousness sitting with a woman she was once madly in love with was hard to hide.
“I still see her with her legs wrapped around a man I had started to idolize…”
“What do you mean he was afraid? He was the National Sgt. at Arms of the Bandido’s. If anything, people were afraid of him,” she said, the skepticism dripping off her words.
“It’s about your father, Ryan Gaudet.”
“I think my blood just ran cold.”
“Mom told me he was released from the psychiatric hospital the other week, but not to worry because of his record he can’t cross down into the States,” Victoria replies, slightly annoyed she has to explain that to Max, who really has no business in this matter.
“That’s the thing, Vic. Scott said he isn’t your father,” Max says to her. She can see the doubt in her glasz eyes as she stands up and walks over to the nightstand beside the bed. She pulls out an envelope. She hands it to Victoria. The young Strader takes it and looks at the words written on the sealed envelope.
“To my oldest daughter, Meghan. Grandpa speaking from the grave?”
“This is for my mom. Why are you giving it to me?”
Maxine sighs and squats down next to her former lover, placing her hand on her knee.
“Because I knew it was the only way to see you. He told me he made a hard choice 22 years ago, and it cost him a relationship with your mom. As much as he regretted it, he felt there was no other way to keep his grandchild safe,” Max says with absolute sincerity.
“Well, she seems sincere enough… and she’s right. This was the only way she was going to see me alone.”
“Thank you for giving me this. I will get it to mom; she’s at the firehouse with Cara and Jake,” she says as she stands up. She goes and retrieves her jacket and picks up her helmet. Max grabs her hand before she heads out the door.
“Mon Cheri, don’t go.”
Max pulls her in, and the two share a kiss they haven’t shared in over a year.
“Oh Maxine… no, we can’t.”
Victoria pulls away, tears starting to well up in the corners of her eyes, and she doesn’t say a word as she leaves the room, not seeing Max's sadness. She walks briskly to the elevator pressing the button multiple times, hoping it comes quicker. She had never ridden her Sportster as fast she did to get home to be with her mom and sister, and of course, to find out what Scott Nash Strader had to say in the written word that he couldn’t do in person.
Home of Victoria and Cara (old firehouse)
Redwood City, California
September 11th, 2021
“Oh good, mom's home alone. Jake’s 1971 blacked-out Cutlass isn’t here, so they must be cruising for… what does she call them? Bulls? Whatever floats their boats.”
Meghan had heard the Sportster drive up to the garage doors and had it open in time for Victoria to glide in, and park. Meghan closes the gate before greeting her oldest.
“Hey darlin’, have a good ride?” she genuinely loves cruising on her Softtail and was waiting for it to show up in Redwood City. When she was cleared of the murder charges for her old man’s death, she was able to move closer to her daughters but couldn’t wait to get there, so she had her bikes (yes plural) shipped.
“It was good, mom. Hey, can we talk?”
“Oh, this is going to open old wounds. I hate doing this, but I need to know that my grandpa wasn’t a giant piece of shit, just a normal-sized one.”
“Yeah, of course, what’s up, darlin’?” her mother asks with a smile. Victoria takes her hand, and they head to the common area John Strader had renovated for his MC but now was used by the Strader family exclusively. It was a large old English/Irish style pub setting with a jukebox in one corner, a mahogany bar, wooden bar stools and just about every kind of whiskey you could ever want presented behind the bar. Meghan and Victoria sit down on an oversized black leather couch.
“Ok, here we go…”
“I went and saw Maxine, mom,” she says quietly. Meghan squeezed Victoria’s hand, letting her know to go on. “Well, it was about grandpa. She said before he died, he was very tortured, and he wrote you something. It’s sealed, I don’t believe she opened it, and neither have I,” Victoria reaches into her leather jacket, retrieving the letter. She hands it to her mom. Meghan takes it slowly and looks at her name written in cursive. A tear rolls down her face; she wasn’t expecting this.
“I should give her some space.”
Victoria gets up and gives the Matriarch some space in silence. She can hear the envelope opening as she leaves her mother with words from her father.
Redwood City, California
September 11th, 2021
“Why am I even here?”
Victoria sits on the blacked-out Harley Davidson Sportster that her Uncle John (who apparently looks nothing like Tony Savage) bought her last December, with her full shield helmet in her hands resting on the teardrop gas tank. She sighs as she takes the key out of the ignition and places them in the pocket of the plain black leather riding jacket she is wearing and gets off her bike. She double clicks a key fob, and the horn honks once and the headlight flashes to signal the alarm is armed. She straightens out her blue jeans with both hands, checks her hair in the side mirror and pulls it back into her signature ponytail. She walks into the front lobby and is greeted by a front desk customer service representative. The name tag reads ‘Sheila,’ and Victoria smiles at her as she places both arms on the desk and leans forward slightly.
“Hey there, Sheila, could you point me in the direction of room 206? Maxine Riggs room.”
Maxine Riggs, her mother’s former protégé and the woman that broke her heart when she started sleeping with her grandfather, the deceased Scott Nash Strader. The woman smiles back.
“Ahh yes, Miss Riggs said she was expecting a pretty blonde girl. Just go down the hall, take the elevator to the second floor, and it’s just a few rooms down the hall on the right.”
“Thank you, have a good night.”
Sheila returns the sentiment as Victoria makes her way to the elevator. After thirty seconds, she finds herself standing in front of room 206. She takes a deep breath before knocking.
“Just breathe; she said she wanted to talk about a family matter…”
*Knock Knock*
After a few seconds, the French Canadian powerhouse known as Mad Max opens the door, and both women do their best to hide the genuine attraction that is still between them.
“Bonjour, Victoria. Come in,” she says in her thick French accent, trying her best to maintain a platonic stance with her ex.
“Hi Max, thanks.”
“Oh my god… she looks amazing. She’s wearing that perfume, Juicy. She knows what that does to me.”
Victoria slides past Maxine as the door closes and automatically locks as a hotel door should. Victoria sits at the small round table by the balcony door, as Max, dressed in black LuLuLemon yoga pants and the same brand purple tank top, sits on the edge of the Queen size bed. Victoria unzips her leather jacket and takes it off, revealing a simple green turtle neck, modest for a modest young woman. Max hangs up the jacket for her, and Victoria’s cheeks puff out slightly as her eyes widen and she exhales into her words to break the awkward silence.
“Ok, let’s get this over with; this is super awkward. She’s playing a game wearing that perfume. I just know it.”
“Sooo, you said something about having something grandpa had on my dad?” Maxine could hear in Victoria’s voice the unsureness about being in the same room. They had made up after Scott had died, but that was more so it wasn’t awkward for Cara (as she was fiercely loyal to her childhood friend and sister) while CFH was a part of Uprising. She hadn’t seen her since the night Meghan was arrested on TV during a tribute to SNS.
“Before Scott died, he was afraid. He wouldn’t say why, as much as I tried to coax it out of him,” her accent was shaky with her words. Her nervousness sitting with a woman she was once madly in love with was hard to hide.
“I still see her with her legs wrapped around a man I had started to idolize…”
“What do you mean he was afraid? He was the National Sgt. at Arms of the Bandido’s. If anything, people were afraid of him,” she said, the skepticism dripping off her words.
“It’s about your father, Ryan Gaudet.”
“I think my blood just ran cold.”
“Mom told me he was released from the psychiatric hospital the other week, but not to worry because of his record he can’t cross down into the States,” Victoria replies, slightly annoyed she has to explain that to Max, who really has no business in this matter.
“That’s the thing, Vic. Scott said he isn’t your father,” Max says to her. She can see the doubt in her glasz eyes as she stands up and walks over to the nightstand beside the bed. She pulls out an envelope. She hands it to Victoria. The young Strader takes it and looks at the words written on the sealed envelope.
“To my oldest daughter, Meghan. Grandpa speaking from the grave?”
“This is for my mom. Why are you giving it to me?”
Maxine sighs and squats down next to her former lover, placing her hand on her knee.
“Because I knew it was the only way to see you. He told me he made a hard choice 22 years ago, and it cost him a relationship with your mom. As much as he regretted it, he felt there was no other way to keep his grandchild safe,” Max says with absolute sincerity.
“Well, she seems sincere enough… and she’s right. This was the only way she was going to see me alone.”
“Thank you for giving me this. I will get it to mom; she’s at the firehouse with Cara and Jake,” she says as she stands up. She goes and retrieves her jacket and picks up her helmet. Max grabs her hand before she heads out the door.
“Mon Cheri, don’t go.”
Max pulls her in, and the two share a kiss they haven’t shared in over a year.
“Oh Maxine… no, we can’t.”
Victoria pulls away, tears starting to well up in the corners of her eyes, and she doesn’t say a word as she leaves the room, not seeing Max's sadness. She walks briskly to the elevator pressing the button multiple times, hoping it comes quicker. She had never ridden her Sportster as fast she did to get home to be with her mom and sister, and of course, to find out what Scott Nash Strader had to say in the written word that he couldn’t do in person.
Home of Victoria and Cara (old firehouse)
Redwood City, California
September 11th, 2021
“Oh good, mom's home alone. Jake’s 1971 blacked-out Cutlass isn’t here, so they must be cruising for… what does she call them? Bulls? Whatever floats their boats.”
Meghan had heard the Sportster drive up to the garage doors and had it open in time for Victoria to glide in, and park. Meghan closes the gate before greeting her oldest.
“Hey darlin’, have a good ride?” she genuinely loves cruising on her Softtail and was waiting for it to show up in Redwood City. When she was cleared of the murder charges for her old man’s death, she was able to move closer to her daughters but couldn’t wait to get there, so she had her bikes (yes plural) shipped.
“It was good, mom. Hey, can we talk?”
“Oh, this is going to open old wounds. I hate doing this, but I need to know that my grandpa wasn’t a giant piece of shit, just a normal-sized one.”
“Yeah, of course, what’s up, darlin’?” her mother asks with a smile. Victoria takes her hand, and they head to the common area John Strader had renovated for his MC but now was used by the Strader family exclusively. It was a large old English/Irish style pub setting with a jukebox in one corner, a mahogany bar, wooden bar stools and just about every kind of whiskey you could ever want presented behind the bar. Meghan and Victoria sit down on an oversized black leather couch.
“Ok, here we go…”
“I went and saw Maxine, mom,” she says quietly. Meghan squeezed Victoria’s hand, letting her know to go on. “Well, it was about grandpa. She said before he died, he was very tortured, and he wrote you something. It’s sealed, I don’t believe she opened it, and neither have I,” Victoria reaches into her leather jacket, retrieving the letter. She hands it to her mom. Meghan takes it slowly and looks at her name written in cursive. A tear rolls down her face; she wasn’t expecting this.
“I should give her some space.”
Victoria gets up and gives the Matriarch some space in silence. She can hear the envelope opening as she leaves her mother with words from her father.
