Rori stretched on the back patio of their condominium, getting ready for her morning run. She smiled as she loosened up her legs; moving to Florida had been good for a lot of things, but late afternoon exercising in the June heat was not one of them. As the humidity rose she started waking up before the sunrise, something she hated to do, but it was better than the alternative.
Wearing running shorts, a sports bra and a loose crop top, she jogged to the blacktop bike path that circled the big development they lived in and connected to other paths in the area. She started slow, jogging the quarter mile circle until she was behind the townhomes on the other side of her street. "Ready for sprint day," she asked with an evil grin as she saw Ashley come out the sliding door on the back of her house.
"Oh man, I'm going to die," she said. Breaking into a jog, she joined her friend on the path and they settled into their warmup. "Interval training kicks my ass. I can't believe you LIKE it."
"It's what keeps me faster than you," she said as her iPhone beeped. She took off at a dead sprint; the program would give them short sprints meant to go at full speed, then longer intervals where they slowed to a medium jog. Ashley groaned as she tried to keep up to her fleet-footed friend. Rori was shorter than her, only about five-foot-five compared to her five-foot-ten, but she was faster and in better shape.
The phone beeped again and Rori slowed to a jog, but since she was still twenty yards behind her friend, Ashley had to keep running a little longer. Of course, that meant her rest period was cut a little shorter, and it got worse and worse as the run continued until she begged Rori for mercy. "Stop, I can't do this anymore. How many miles have we done?"
Rori looked at the program on her phone. "Six miles, two to go. Tell you what, cut across here and I'll meet you at the road." Rori took off around the pond, a little over a mile path, while Ashley did a cooldown jog on the quarter-mile shortcut. She stretched while she waited for her to show up, then they jogged the last mile home.
Ashley flopped dramatically onto the chair on the patio behind her house. "Why do I let you do this to me," she said as she held the back of her hand to her forehead.
"So you don't tire out in the third round of our spars tonight," Rori said with a smirk. "See you tonight, at least in the octagon you can use your weight advantage."
"WEIGHT! OH, if I could get up I'd get you back for that," she said. "See you at five."
"Have fun at work," she said before she ran off. Ashley knew Rori would be running hard the rest of the way home, making up for the slower pace with her along. They weren't in the same class when it came to distance running, but they helped each other out. Ashley had introduced her to weightlifting and mixed martial arts, and together the two friends pushed each other to be better. She had quickly moved up in the ranks at the training center, and regularly gave women and men bigger than her fits with her quickness and reflexes.
Rori got home ten minutes later, doing her cooldown and stretching before going inside. "Hi Grandma," she said as she walked through the kitchen.
"Morning dear, how was the workout?"
Rori chugged a glass of water, then filled it again. "Good. Ashley almost puked during interval training."
Donna came in, already dressed for work at the clinic. "You know, honey, throwing up isn't the sign of a good workout."
"Getting choked out by Ashley isn't a sign of a good workout either," she said with a laugh. She ran up the stairs to her room, returning fifteen minutes later showered and changed into her painting clothes- an old T-shirt, spotted jeans and old canvas shoes. "Thanks," she said as Grandma handed her a plate of pancakes and bacon.
"How is the mural coming," Donna asked.
"I should finish it today," she replied. "I'd be done already if they didn't restrict me to weekdays between eight and four. I'll be seventeen soon, it's not like I can't handle myself around the club."
"I'm not sure the rules are there just for your protection, honey." Rori blushed, knowing that the club President had called her Mom after she had taken out the knee of a man who thought she was a young-looking sweetbutt. She had quickly taught him to keep his hands to himself. "It's a biker clubhouse, the last thing they need is to have a sixteen-year-old girl there if the cops show up to the party."
"Whatever." She looked at the calendar. "I'm going to grab something to eat with Ashley before training tonight, so I'll be home around ten." Her breakfast had disappeared quickly, and she kissed both of them before going out to put on her chaps, boots and motorcycle jacket. "Have a good day at work, Mom."
She put on her backpack, which had a clean set of clothes and her workout gear in it, then walked out to the garage. Her white 2016 Harley-Davidson 883 Sportster Superlow sat near the door, and she took a moment to admire it as the door opened up. The plain white motorcycle she had ordered was now custom-painted by her, and it was breathtaking. On the left side of the gas tank, the head of a rust-colored wolf in full sprint, wind through its fur and mouth partway open, was painted. On the right side, the same wolf was lying down on a rock outcropping, a larger grey, black and white wolf behind her. At the front, you could just see the herd of elk. It was her favorite painting, reproduced where it could advertise her skills. There were plenty of artists who could airbrush, but her work was striking for its detail and three-dimensional look. The fenders showed a pack of wolves, running full speed in single file down a forest trail.
She had bought the motorcycle within two days of arriving in Florida, right after she finished her motorcycle safety course and got her license. The bike was powerful, easy to handle, and fun to ride even in the sprawling city that was Orlando. Firing it up, she pulled out of the garage and onto the street towards the clubhouse of the Steel Brotherhood Motorcycle Club.
Pulling into the lot, the warehouse-like structure at the back had all the roll-up doors open to let it air out after last night's party. She backed her bike into the open space at the end, under the awning that provided protection from the sun and the afternoon thunderstorms. Leaving her leathers folded on her seat under her helmet, she walked into the cavernous space. "Hey Speedbump," she said to the big bartender with a killer mullet.
"Rori," he said with a smile. "You going to finish today?"
"Maybe. It depends on whether anyone threw beer on my work last night." She walked over towards the wall they had asked her to paint and she looked behind the green tarp that covered it up. "Looks good," she said.
"Yeah, the Pres laid down the law. He even stuck a prospect in front of it all night to make sure no one peeked." A couple of the prospects still cleaning up, otherwise the place was empty. Gaining membership in a traditional motorcycle club wasn't easy. You had to be vouched for by a member, then spend at least a year being a virtual slave to the members before you could get your patch. The Brothers weren't a One Percent club, the outlaw bikers, but they weren't that far from it.
Their women's affiliate, called the Steel Ladies, had actually brought Rori in to meet the Club members. A few of them saw her bike, talked to her about her custom art, and made some introductions. She'd ridden with the women and loved being with them, but couldn't become a full member of the Ladies until the age of eighteen. In the meantime, they gave her a cut with a Steel Ladies Junior patch and a T-Shirt. The Ladies were girlfriends and wives of the male members, as the Club remained male-only in keeping with MC traditions.
Despite her age, the Club accepted her like she was one of their daughters. As such, Rori was invited to the less rowdy parties and events and the older members made sure she stayed safe. She spent a lot of time with them, and really enjoyed their company. They had chapters all over the eastern half of the United States and into Canada.
Rori removed the tarp and rolled the portable scaffold closer before she started putting paint on her palette. The mural she'd been working on for the last three weeks was close to being done, but the toughest parts remained- getting the faces of the five men just right. The bottom four feet of the wall was paneled with a beveled chair rail, and the rest was painted. The scene was a beach highway, and the five men on motorcycles in formation were all Club members who had died. They all were on the left side of the painting, leaving room for more in the future.
She was so focused on her work that she didn't even notice the five men who came and sat at the table behind her. She jumped a little when she turned around and the President waved her over. "Come on, take a break," Mongo said. "We got you your favorite."
A double-cheeseburger with extra bacon and fries was sitting at the empty space, and she quickly cleaned her brushes and palette to join them. "It looks just like him," Tripod said. "You're damn good."
"Thanks," she said to the Vice President before she took a big bite of the burger. "I should finish in a couple hours."
"That's perfect," the President said. "Tomorrow night we're having a big party, the Regional President will be down along with representatives from a dozen other Chapters. I'd like to unveil the mural then, if you're all right with it."
"No problem, anytime after four you can do it. I'd like to get a few photos of it this afternoon. I need it for my portfolio for my art class." Rori had started taking classes at the University of Central Florida and was accepted to start full-time as an Art major in the fall.
"Eight o'clock tomorrow, tell your Mom and your Grandmother to come. We'll do a reveal, toast the memory of the men, and send you home before the debauchery gets too bad." She shook her head, they always sent her home early! "It's great work, and the other chapter Presidents are going to be damn jealous of your work."
At three, the men joined her and Speedbump took some pictures with her digital camera as they all stood in front of the six by twenty-foot long memorial wall. They covered it with the tarp, sealing the edges against prying eyes until the reveal. The afternoon thunderstorms were rolling through, so she sat at the bar with them until it was time to go.
