Лидер байкерской группировки «Summit Boys» теряет мотоцикл и вынуждена искать убежище у конкурентов

Greetings from a long weekend, dear readers! Today’s tale begs the question: What do you do when you lose everything? After the closing of Summit Strike, PJ has no idea. With nowhere left for The Summit Boys, a biker gang she runs with her friend Bobbie, PJ and her crew take refuge at the bar of a smug rival “gang”. With tensions high and funds low, can PJ hatch the ultimate plan to bring the Summit Boys back to glory and hopefully get a new bike? — PJ was about to lose it. The air was thick with the scent of a rainstorm that was just now subsiding, and PJ was about to lose it. She had rushed out the door that morning without an umbrella, having forgotten to charge her phone, and she was going to lose it. Her clothes were soaked through, her jean jacket sticking uncomfortably to her skin, and she was going to lose it. Water droplets fell into her eyes in a slow rhythm as she recalled years spent in anger management. Because right now Pj was late, soaked, without a phone, and looking blankly at her bike as it would not start.  Today had been a comically bad day for PJ. She had worked a night shift at a local gas station that had two employees and a dream. She crawled back to her sad excuse for an apartment in the early hours of the morning, completely forgetting to plug in the phone that had all of her alarms ready to go. It also happened to be that this was the one day that those alarms were actually important to PJ.  Today was the official closing of Summit Strike, the lesbian bar that had opened its arms to PJ many years ago. The owner of the bar, Frankie, was retiring to the Ohio countryside with her wife. The new buyers would be changing the name and turning it into an upscale brasserie. Frankie had tried to find buyers that would keep the integrity of the bar, but to no such luck. This was PJ’s last chance to say goodbye to the place that meant so much to her, and she was missing it. PJ looked at her broken watch, having to translate to the correct time in her head, and hit her hands against the handles of her bike with a groan. It was a thirty minute walk, but if she left now she could make it to the tail end of opening hours. The bar was closing early to allow Frankie to hit the road first thing the next morning. Overall, today was a fantastic day for PJ.  With one more fruitless attempt at starting her bike, PJ kicked the curb of the sidewalk, still damp from the rain, and started walking. PJ showed up thirty minutes later, out of breath and damp from both the rain and sweat. As she walked up to the building, she let herself mourn the loss and remember all of the good memories she had at the bar. PJ had stumbled upon Summit Strike ten years ago when she had first moved to Columbus. She had just dropped out of university and leased out the cheapest apartment in the nearest city. She then cut off all her hair and spent the rest of her savings on a shitty motorcycle and was ready to go. On her first night she was driving down random streets and stumbled upon the run down haven that is Summit Strike. PJ was immediately welcomed by Frankie, who had greeted PJ like an old friend. Even though she was well into her 60s she had the energy levels of a 20 year old. Frankie Introduced PJ to the Summit Boys, a lesbian biker gang that found refuge in the bar. Among the members was Bobbie, a tall, lanky woman with a shaved head and an oversized jean jacket that was missing the sleeves.  It was impossible to match the Bobbie and Frankie from ten years ago to the ones who were exiting the bar now, Frankie’s keys pulled out to lock up the bar for the final time. A cold breeze swept through the street as the three stood outside the bar, taking it all in. Late August was quickly turning into September, and fall would be setting in.  Looking at Frankie now, PJ was already feeling her stomach twist in despair. She wasn’t ready for Frankie to leave. She didn’t know what she was going to do without her steady presence to guide her. She didn’t know where she was going to go when she couldn’t stand to be alone. Frankie and the Summit Strike had made PJ who she was and she wasn’t ready to let it all go.  “We missed you, kid.” Frankie’s voice was deep and gravelly. PJ didn’t feel like getting into the horrible day she had been having, sure that Frankie’s was worse. Frankie had opened the bar forty years ago, and walking away had to have been one of the hardest things Frankie has had to do.  PJ didn’t blame Frankie for selling. She was getting older and the bar was losing business. At this point, the bar was losing more money than it was gaining. Frankie decided to cut her losses and buy a small, but charming, place out in the country. It has a small porch and Frankie’s wife, Greta, was excited about it. I can knit outside just like all the other old hags was the reasoning.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” PJ’s voice was shaking and she could feel the tears collecting behind her eyes. Bobbie walked over and put her arm around PJ’s shoulder, offering any comfort she could. The gesture was greatly appreciated. “Oh stop, you’re here now.” Frankie finished locking the door, and came over to join their group hug. PJ stopped trying to hold it in and finally let herself cry. She cried for her awful day. She cried for Summit Strike, and she cried for Frankie. PJ had been naive enough to assume that Summit Strike and the people she loved there were untouchable. She assumed she would have it all forever. Even though it felt like the world was ending, she had never felt more safe than she did in the arms of the two people she loved most.  The air was getting colder the longer they stood there, the sun now slinking below the horizon. PJ would stand there all night if she had to, she wasn’t ready to let go yet. But sooner than later they had to. Frankie had to go load up her car and Bobbie had to go home to her own wife and son. “Don’t be a stranger.” Frankie pulled PJ into one final hug and squeezed her tight before she was off. Bobbie followed suit and then it was just PJ. She sat on the curb and cried once more. She couldn’t fathom walking thirty more minutes feeling the way she did, so she sat. PJ sat until the sun was completely gone and the moon shone brighter than ever. PJ felt the beauty of the night was mocking her.  PJ only left when she could no longer ignore the exhaustion and hunger that was setting in. She walked in complete silence, barely remembering to look both ways when crossing the street. Once home, she crashed on her bed and tried to imagine how her life could possibly get better.  *** It didn’t. For the next three weeks PJ found herself in a mindless loop. She would go to her awful minimum wage job with awful hours and then come home and sleep. She barely remembered to eat and she refused to respond to any messages. Bobbie kept checking in, asking how PJ was doing, and leaving meals on the doorstep. PJ had a collection of frozen lasagnas and casseroles wasting away in her fridge. Thinking about it stressed her out, so she didn’t.  The Summit Boys were still meeting every week. They alternated between members’ houses until they could find a more permanent meeting place. PJ didn’t go. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face the reality of the Summit Boys without the Summit.  Would they change the name? Would they ever even find a place as welcoming as Frankie’s? PJ wasn’t ready to find out.  So life continued like this. PJ pushed out thoughts of unread messages and forgotten meals. Maybe she would never recover from this. All of a sudden life had no real direction to it anymore.  That is until there came a banging on PJ’s door one night that would not go away. PJ tried with all her might to ignore it. She shoved her head under her pillow and shut her eyes tightly, but the knocking persisted. With a loud groan, PJ got up and narrowly avoided tripping several times on her way to the door.  On the other side of the door stood Bobbie. Her usual jean jacket hung loosely from her shoulders and her mouth was downturned into a sour expression. It wasn’t often that Bobbie got angry, but PJ supposed she deserved it.  “What do you want?” Okay sure, this probably wasn’t the best opening line PJ could have gone for, but she was in no mood for confrontation. She already felt the exhaustion of the interaction pulling on her body.  “Oh please, you know what this is. You haven’t been answering anyone’s messages, you’ve missed every meeting since Summit closed, and your apartment looks like several things have died in there.” The irritated glint in Bobbie’s eyes was replaced with concern. “I mean, come on man, you even missed my son’s birthday party. You know how much he idolizes you.” PJ feels a pang of guilt in her gut. She really hasn’t been a very good friend recently. She had completely forgotten about Bobbie’s son, Stevie, turning four. She would have known if she had been reading her messages, but she was too caught up in her own life to even think about anyone else’s.  PJ opened the door wider, allowing Bobbie to enter. Once inside, Bobbie pulls PJ into a long hug. “I know Frankie leaving has hit you hard, but the rest of us need you. And even though you don’t want to believe it, you need us too.”  “I’m sorry.” PJ didn’t want to cry again so soon, so she held it back and squeezed Bobbie a little tighter.  “Don’t be sorry, just be there.” Bobbie finally let go with a sniff of her nose. “Come on, I’ll help you clean up this dump.”  For a moment, PJ watched in appreciation as Bobbie went about collecting the three week pile up of trash before setting to work herself.  Nothing had really changed. Frankie and the Summit Strike were still gone, and PJ still felt unprepared for a world without them. Even so, it felt just that much easier to breathe, and PJ felt ready to begin picking up the pieces.  *** PJ was skeptical as her and Bobbie entered the only other gay bar in the area. The Big Bear was run by Alex. He was best described as short and blonde. He was also in charge of the Sleuth, a rival gang that used the bar as its homebase. Let’s just say the two gangs have had…creative differences that have led to tensions between the groups.  Both the Summit Boys and the Sleuth work to aid the community through distributing things like food, hygiene products, school supplies, clothes, that kind of thing. The way they acquire these products is where they differ. See Alex’s group hosts fundraisers and maintains donation bins. The Summit Boys on the other hand use less…legal methods.  The Sleuth also didn’t really see themselves as a gang. They were a “social organization” that all rode motorcycles. This somehow gave them moral high ground that had furthered the tensions between the two groups. However, Alex decided that solidarity was a better look than their “petty” arguments, and allowed the Summit Boys to have their meetings in his bar.  The Big Bear is much larger than Summit Strike, but felt way more cramped. The bar consisted of one large room with a small assortment of standing and sitting tables along the perimeter. The rest of the space was designated for a makeshift dance floor, except there was more socializing than dancing the majority of the time.  PJ and Bobbie pushed their way to the back of the room, joining the six other members that had already arrived. They could just barely hear each other over the music if they shouted, and PJ had no clue how they were going to make this work. However, they really had no other choice. None of them really had the space that allowed for them all to meet. Bobbie was the only one who lived in a small house, but she also had a son with an early bedtime and a hard time sleeping.  PJ felt the now familiar feeling of sorrow for Summit Strike. She wanted to meet with her gang at her bar with her community. Alex was a nice enough guy, but he wasn’t Frankie. He would never be like Frankie.  After having to shout at someone to repeat themselves for the fifth time, PJ was ready to call it quits. There was no way they could have any productive meetings here, and PJ needed to pick her bike up from the shop anyway. All of a sudden Alex materialized beside PJ. She hadn’t seen him coming, probably due to his less than fortunate height.  “Hi! PJ Right?”  “What did you say?!” “WHAT?” “HUH?” “YOU’RE PJ, RIGHT?” “Oh! Yeah I’m PJ.” PJ was so over this bar.  “We have another room you can meet in!” Alex pointed with his head in some random direction, but PJ hadn’t heard a thing he said.  “WHAT?” “COME WITH ME!” Alex grabbed PJ by the shoulder and started pulling her in the direction of a door on the opposite side of the bar. Unfortunately, this action did draw attention to the fact that PJ was barely an inch taller than Alex.  Thankfully, everyone else had gotten the message to follow, and pretty soon they had all squeezed through the crowd and were now entering a much quieter room. The room was dimly lit, and a fair size. It was big enough to hold two decent sized couches, several arm chairs, and three small tables. There were already a couple people in the room, but they paid PJ and her group no mind as they entered. After everyone had entered the room, Alex carefully shut the door behind them. “Okay. Much better.” Alex gave the group an uneasy smile, suddenly looking uncomfortable in front of them. “You can use this room to have meetings or just hang out. Sleuth members also use this space, but I told them to share so no worries there.” Alex laughed nervously, and PJ noticed that the others in the room actually were watching them with more subtlety than she would expect. “Can I get you anything else?” When nobody immediately responded, Alex said his goodbyes and went back to work at the bar.  On the edge of the room, the group gathered around two tables that had previously been pushed together. PJ felt uneasy as she could still feel the others’ eyes on her. The first room was too loud, and this room was too quiet. PJ knew no matter where they went there was going to be an adjustment period, but PJ couldn’t help but long for the easy confidence she had in Summit Strike. Here, she was second guessing every movement and word from her mouth.  PJ stayed tense the entire meeting. They had discussed shifts for a small community garden they maintained, and planned their next run to stock up on hygiene products that they would then distribute. The whole time PJ was glancing around and seeing disapproving looks targeted at them. For the first time since she found Summit Strike, PJ felt completely out of place.  Everything in her was telling her to leave, that her weeks of isolation were better than this feeling. But then she looked at all of the Summit Boys, and she thought about Frankie. She knew she couldn’t bail on them again. They needed her, the community needed her, and she knew deep down she needed them too. So even though this bar sucked and she hated it, she would just have to get used to it.  *** As it typically does, life went on. The Summit Boys tried as hard as they could to adjust to the new location, but they still didn’t feel quite welcomed by everyone in the Sleuth. Alex was trying to set a good example, but even he wouldn’t meet PJ’s eyes.  The Summit Boys carried on with their usual activities, and PJ got better at ignoring the pointed looks they got when hashing out their plans. Her bike was up and running, though most likely in its 9th life. PJ’s wallet refused to let her think about it too much. She would cross that bridge when she came to it. So everything was fine, well mostly fine. She still hated Big Bear, Alex, and everybody in that stupid “social organization”, but it was fine.  It was fine, until it wasn’t. Because at this point it was half way through September and there had been no changes. If anything the looks increased, Alex got more uncomfortable, and everyone on both sides felt on edge. There was so much unspoken tension, and PJ was dreading the day it would finally break. With this much build up it was going to be big. With how irritated the Sleuth seemed to be getting at the Summit Boys, PJ was getting just as irritated with them. She winced at every casino night they hosted, targeted towards those who could actually afford the upcharge on event food. She tried to let it go whenever she passed an empty donation bin, she tried to remind herself that they were on the same side. They all wanted the same things. But for as much as the Sleuth preached about love and acceptance, PJ felt pretty damn hated.  *** The night was going as averagely as it usually did. PJ’s bike had stalled on the way to the meeting, but PJ was milking every use she could out of it. She in no way could afford a new bike right now. Ever since Frankie retired, PJ and Bobbie had been running the Summit Boys together. All members had their part, but those two made sure everyone stayed organized and up to date. Except for tonight. Bobbie had to go to her son’s first soccer game, so PJ would be leading the meeting by herself.  This would’ve been fine except for when Alex asked to speak to PJ outside. It would’ve been fine, except that PJ needed Bobbie to be there to stop her from doing something stupid, like decking Alex right where he stood on the sidewalk. And this was a very likely occurrence. Alex had taken her right outside the front of the bar, leaning against the brick wall. He was trying to go for a casual stance, but he looked just as constipated as ever. The mid-september air was getting colder every day, and PJ was regretting not switching out her jean jacket to the one with sleeves. Alex and PJ looked like an odd pair, with Alex in expensive slacks and PJ looking like PJ.   “Look, PJ. You know I love you guys. I love having you around, and I love what you do. But there have been some concerns brought to my attention.” Alex looked more nervous the more he talked, and PJ was getting more irritated. “Other’s are concerned about your methods in providing aid. They’re worried about how it looks for the bar to house a group that is known for…bending the law to get the job done.” Alex is deflecting the blame, but PJ knows that he also shares these concerns.  “I know it’s hard to change the structure of your, uh, team… but we’re fully prepared to help during the adjustment period.” PJ was going to actually jump this guy. Not only did she lose her best friend and mentor, she also lost her bar, her bike was essentially bust, and now some guy was telling her how to run her gang. “Just call it what it is Alex! It’s a gang! You running around the word doesn’t change what it is!” PJ knew the words didn’t matter that much, but she was sick and tired of Alex and his ‘social organization’ acting like they were so superior. The only difference was that Alex marketed towards rich people. Alex was done being nervous, and his face was twisting with anger.  “Fine. But, my bar won’t open its doors to a gang, so I would make the changes I asked if you want to see the Summit Boys make it to next week.” PJ wished Alex would yell. She wished he would stoop to her level, but he stays collected. He turns on his heels and goes back inside. PJ watches him through the window. She sees him greet a man with a kiss on the cheek and PJ is angry.  Alex gets to go back inside the victor. He gets to slip back into the crowd and laugh with his friends. When PJ goes back inside she will be met with disapproving looks. No one will greet her. Nobody in that bar cares about who she is or where she’s from. When she goes back inside there will be no Frankie to laugh with. PJ thinks she was better off in her apartment with her fridge full of food she was never going to eat.  *** It really should be no surprise that PJ didn’t listen to Alex. If anything she was more determined to get ahead of the Sleuth, her way. However, PJ also wasn’t stupid. She knew that Alex wasn’t bluffing. He really would kick the Summit Boys out on the street if he caught wind of their plan.  So, PJ went along with it. She begrudgingly planned small fundraising events where she wore the nicest pair of dress pants she owned, which weren’t actually all that nice. She played nice with the rich people. She smiled at them, and even put on deodorant for their benefit. She tried to seem as annoyed and irritated as possible so as not to raise suspicion. But all the while, the Summit Boys were planning.  As the weather got colder, families were in need of warmer clothes. The eight members of the Summit Boys each had their own assignments. They were split into two groups in two different locations. The first group would be led by Bobbie and they would be at a high end shopping mall in the city. Their objective was to pick pockets like crazy. The mall was always filled to the brim with people on weekends, so it was easy to slip into the hoards of shoppers.  The second group was with PJ. Their task was a little more delicate. While at one of the fundraising events that PJ put on with Alex, A potential donor had talked her ear off about the wonders of keeping cash. He waxed poetry about the safe he had at home that held all of his money, not trusting the banking system.  PJ had instantly latched onto this information, and subtly pried his address out of him throughout the night. She had also asked for tips on safe codes, as she was bad at numbers. He told her that he always used his wife’s birthday, and PJ was able to get that information too.  It was actually kind of a wonder how much information this man was willing to give, though PJ supposed he probably has prior trust with Alex and had no real reason to be suspicious of PJ.  Throughout the planning, relations between PJ and Alex saw no progress. The Summit Boys were faced with the same looks and exclusions, and Alex looked just as nauseous every time he saw PJ as he always did. This only motivated her to work harder, and be smarter. She had all her bases covered. This was the biggest, most important heist she had ever carried through and she was ready. There was absolutely no way Alex had found out, or would find out.  … Except for the fact that Alex totally did find out, seeing as how he was the only person at the designated meet up spot. How did this happen? PJ was so careful. She left no paper trail of her plans, told nobody outside of the Summit Boys, she hosted fundraising events for god’s sake!  “PJ! So kind of you to show up.” Alex looked smug as he met PJ where she stood frozen. “Sadly, I think your little friends forgot.”  “Where are they?” PJ felt smaller than she ever had. She was losing everything. She had no one here to back her up or save her from what was about to happen. “Oh, I sent everyone home once I found out about your plan. I warned you what would happen if I found out about illegal activity, didn’t I?”  PJ felt all of the fight that had been building over the last month leave her body. She was stuck. There was nothing she could do to convince Alex. And to be honest, she wasn’t even sure what she was fighting for at this point. Nobody had shown up. Not a single person was here to fight back with her. She was sick and tired of being the only one who cared.  “How did you find out?” PJ was still standing in the same spot, while Alex paced back and forth in front of her. “Well actually Bobbie told me. Granted I don’t think she knew that I didn’t know about tonight. Being good ‘ol Bobbie, she invited me to help out.”  PJ had completely forgotten about her one loose end. Bobbie. At first, she hadn’t told her about her fight with Alex purely because she wasn’t there. Bobbie had gotten busy with home life, so PJ had no real time to fill her in. But then, Bobbie started coming more and PJ didn’t want to tell her. She was afraid Bobbie would convince her to listen to Alex and just let it go, at least for right now. But PJ didn’t want to let it go. So she didn’t tell Bobbie that this had to be a secret from Alex, not thinking she would go and invite him.  When PJ didn’t say anything, Alex continued. “I already informed everyone else that the Summit Boys are no longer welcome at Big Bear, and sent them home.” Alex turned to walk away, but paused. “You left your jacket in the lounge, and I would suggest picking it up tonight. I take out the garbage tomorrow.” PJ was going to lose it.  *** The drive back to Big Bear felt like it dragged on forever. The all black zip-up hoodie she wore did almost nothing against the harsh winds. The sun was beginning to set, and street lights were turning on. It would’ve been beautiful if PJ could think properly right now.  All of her anger and hurt had boiled up in her gut as she kept thinking about Alex and his stupid blonde hair. Once she arrived, she beelined towards the lounge, not feeling like having all the eyes on her.  The lounge was surprisingly empty, which PJ was glad for. As she scanned the room, she couldn’t find her jacket. She was sure she had left it on a chair, a sort of good omen for her return. A lot of good that did.  She searched high and low, under tables, between couch cushions, but nothing. She finally noticed it on a chair located in a small office Alex used for all his paperwork. She doesn’t know how it ended up there, seeing as how she would never willingly go talk to Alex. When she reached out to grab it, a piece of paper caught her attention. It looked like a bank statement.  PJ normally wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except for the fact that it was a decidedly large number and going into a bank that was decidedly not the bank that the Sleuth uses for their money. PJ knows this as Alex taught her how to handle the fundraising money. He went on a huge rant about the amazing returns this bank had and how trustworthy they were, and don’t forget their amazing attention to having good customer service.  Except the super amazing, can do no wrong, bank is (again) not the one listed on the receipt. And that was way too large a number for this to be brushed off. And it hit PJ like a truck. Alex was stealing the fundraiser money, doing god knows what with it.  PJ slipped the receipt into her pocket, grabbed her jacket, and calmly left the building. Alex was actively ruining PJ’s life. He was taking away the only thing she had left, while he was doing the exact same thing as her, arguably worse. That money rightfully belonged to the community. That’s what the money should be used for. No matter how much PJ hated the overpriced events that were in no way targeted towards the community they sought to serve, they were still doing something for the people. Except for the fact that they might not, or at least not as much as they say they are.  PJ was on autopilot as she walked to her bike, not believing what her life had become. All she needed was to get on her bike and clear her head. Then she could decide her next moves. But…her bike wouldn’t start. She tried again, but to no avail. Her bike had finally given up, the mechanic had told her to not even bother bringing it back when it inevitably broke down again.  PJ kept turning the key in the ignition, not wanting to believe that it was really gone. That was it. She had officially lost everything. And while she would have to walk everywhere until she could scrape up enough money for a new shitty bike, Alex had the money.  PJ looked up into the Big Bear, instantly finding the man that Alex had kissed a while back. Alex had the money.  PJ calmly started on her walk, wanting Alex to find her broken down bike at his bar, and started hatching her plan.