I thought it would be easier for peeps if I posted the entire story in one shot, instead of in chapters....so here it is!
BLACK NIGHT IN THE BLACK HILLS (Part 1 of the Jonica vs Laurie Series)
written by Laurie
Prologue
(Once upon a midnight dearie,
I woke with something in my head)
I wish I knew how it came to this. The crazy chain of events that led me to be standing in a patch of grass and dirt in a camp ground at Sturgis, surrounded by a ring of motorcycles with their headlights shining on me and the Cajun girl who I had never laid eyes on before this day. The Cajun girl who I would soon be locked in wild combat against. How the hell did I get here???
Okay, before I go any farther, let me just say, for the record, that I do NOT go looking for fights. I’d be crazy to do that. I’m barely over 5 feet tall and, even though I’m competitive and athletic, the few fights I’ve been in have mostly ended badly for me. Well, in fairness to myself, those bitches were all a lot bigger and heavier than me – you know the type, schoolyard bullies who get their kicks kicking the crap out of smaller girls.
Call me brave, call me stupid, call me a masochist, whatever. One day I decided I wasn’t gonna run away from bullies any more. And I didn’t. They made me pay for my bravery, my stupidity, my masochism. But bruises heal. In time. At least I didn’t run away.
This was different. This was a fight I wanted. Pride. It’s funny, the things we do for pride. Plus, the Cajun bitch really pissed me off. And I knew I could take her. For once I’d be fighting someone my own size. She’s like an inch or two taller than me (so what else is new?) but other than that…
Wait. I’m jumping ahead of myself. Kind of like walking into a movie that’s half over. So why don’t we take it from the top with that original line: ‘Once upon a time…’ Or better still: ‘Once upon a midnight dearie…’
Chapter the First
(Like a game show contestant with a parting gift,
I could not believe my eyes
When I saw through the voice of a trusted friend
Who needs to humor me and tell me lies)
Even though I’ve lived in South Dakota my entire life (so far), I’d only been to the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally once, back in 2002, when I was 19 and a sophomore at Augustana College. My roommate Mallory, our friend Carole and I all piled into Mal’s dad’s Airstream and drove cross-state on 90 West from Sioux Falls to Sturgis. We partied, drank, rocked out to Blues Traveler, partied some more, hung out with scary looking bikers, drank some more, and pretty much had the time of our lives.
Now, nine years later, all of us having graduated and moved on to other things, those five days in August ’02 had faded to a warm distant memory. So when Mallory called out of the blue and suggested a reunion trip, Carole and I were like, oh hell yes. Along with my sister Melissa, who was too young to go on that first trip, we found ourselves back in the old Airstream, following an endless line of Harley Davidsons, campers, Winnebagos, trucks and cars on the road to Sturgis, kind of like the final scene in that Kevin Costner baseball movie, Field of Dreams.
Mal had reserved a spot for us at the Buffalo Chip campground. I couldn’t believe how many motorcycles there were. I found out later it was well over 20,000. Bikers in all sizes and shapes…some wore colors and were hard-core, others couldn’t hide the fact that they were accountants and attorneys living out their biker fantasies, with brand-new Harley bandannas over their $200 haircuts, decked out in imitation leather with temporary tattoos covering their skinny arms. Tough biker chicks staked out their territory like lionesses in the Sahara, using an icy glare to warn outsiders to keep our distance, which we were more than happy to do. (Well, not ALL of us. More about that in a little bit.)
There was a Winnebago with Louisiana plates next to our Airstream, I really didn’t get a good look at the people in it, just a brief passing glance as the door shut behind a girl around my size with light auburn hair. Overwhelmed by the multitude of bikers, the excitement of being at the Rally and the thrill of the fun and excitement sure to follow, the Winnebago and its auburn-haired occupant were soon forgotten. As we walked through the camp, we were invited to join a group of bikers who were tailgating by a beat-up black ’95 Dodge Dakota pickup, grilling buffalo burgers and roasted corn on the cob. Coolers full of beer bottles buried in big chunks of ice were lined up behind the pickup like a styrofoam barricade.
The leader of the group, a huge pot-bellied man with long flowing white hair and beard (Mallory whispered, “He looks like Santa Claus on steroids!” and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing) called us over in a loud booming voice that easily drowned out the revving engines in the vicinity. We held a quick huddled conference.
“Think we should?” (this from Carole, always the cautious one)
“Why not? They seem friendly enough.” (Mallory, always ready for an adventure)
“That’s what Custer said at the Big Horn.” (from me, a brat and damn proud of it)
“Besides they’re offering free food and beer. Sure beats paying for it.” (my sister Melissa, despite her youth, always the practical one….and by ‘practical’, I mean CHEAP, a Grade-A moocher, trust me on this!)
The majority voted down Carole’s objection and we gratefully accepted the invitation, not to mention the hot food and cold beer.
“Call me Tiny,” the gargantuan leader insisted as he expertly flipped sizzling burgers on the grill.
(Tiny? Seriously? Seriously???)
We were almost universally accepted by our leather-clad hosts who really went out of their way to make us feel welcomed. Blankets were quickly spread out on the grass for us to sit on and even Carole’s initial hesitation soon disappeared. I found myself sharing a blanket with a beautiful blonde with a bright happy smile and long legs that I couldn’t help but feel just a twinge of jealousy about. (The curse of the vertically challenged!) Despite her leather halter, miniskirt and shiny black boots, she really didn’t look like a stereotype biker chick.
“Hi, I’m Foxy.”
(Ummmm, yup, you sure are.)
“Brag much?” I answered with a grin. (Sometimes I just can’t control my ‘inner brat’.)
Her laugh was friendly, natural, unforced. I got good vibes from her right from the start.
“I know. Right? It’s really Joanne. But when you hang with this bunch, you get a new name from Tiny.”
“Who named him Tiny?”
“Someone who’s no longer with us. I wouldn’t go there if I was you.”
"Point taken…So is this a club or gang or something?”
She laughed again. “Sort of. But not really. It’s not an official club. And, oh my god, there are no one-percenters here. We’re just a bunch of friends from all over who met on a motorcycle website on the Internet. I’m from New Jersey. See the guy talking to your friend…”
“Mallory.”
“He’s from Canada. Montreal, I think. They call him Boche. He’s like everybody’s big brother, always watching over the girls. Over there is…”
Tiny’s bellow interrupted her.
“Hey, Foxy, don’t you be telling any club secrets to Peanut there now.”
(Peanut….Oh yippety-skip)
Foxy started laughing again at the look on my face.
“Aw, c’mon. Don’t let it bug ya. You’ve been named. You’re one of us now.”
(one of us…one of us…)
She continued, “So where are you from?”
I smiled gratefully as she changed the subject. “Right here in South Dakota.”
“Oh, wow, that is so cool! I guess you come here every year, huh?”
“No, this is just our second time …”
Chapter the Second
(And I’ll lie too and say I don’t mind
And as we seek so shall we find)
The afternoon passed. I may be biased but I honestly don’t think there’s anything more beautiful than a South Dakota sunset. It’s something everyone should experience at least once in their lives.
More people joined the impromptu party. We decided to stay and tag along with our new friends when they made the bar rounds later.
I said before that we were ALMOST UNIVERSALLY accepted by the bikers. There were one or two who seemed to resent us being there. One in particular was a small dark-haired, fierce-looking, very pretty tattooed chick who had been sitting with one of the newcomers, a slight auburn-haired girl who looked vaguely familiar to me. They had been chatting and laughing like old friends until the dark-haired one noticed Melissa flirting with one of the guys, a long-haired deeply tanned walking stereotype with dirtbag good looks and sky-blue eyes, fittingly named Adonis. Her smile disappeared, her dark eyes flashed at Missy and if looks could kill, I’d be an only child right about now.
“Uh oh,” Foxy nudged me. “You’d better tell your friend to watch out. Adonis is Boom-Boom’s man.”
As if on cue, the man called Boche joined us, followed by Mallory.
“She is playing with fire, your friend. Boom-Boom, she has a very bad temper,” he said in his charming French-kissed accent.
Sure enough, Boom-Boom moved away from her auburn-haired friend and made a beeline to where Melissa and Adonis were making out on the blanket. My clueless sister was unaware of the danger about to come down on her. I had to do something. I scrambled up off the blanket and quickly moved between my sister and the furious girl. She tried to get past me but I blocked her path.
(This is crazy, that bitch will probably kill me but I have to protect my sister!)
“Missy, cool it!” I hissed. Sensing trouble, she finally pulled away from the grinning Adonis, who was most likely loving all the attention. After shoving Missy toward my blanket, I turned to Boom-Boom.
“I’m sorry, my sister didn’t mean … “
“Tell her to keep her fucking distance if she knows what’s good for her!”
(I couldn’t quite place her accent, I knew it definitely wasn’t American. Somewhere in the UK, sounds like.)
“I said we’re sorry, all right? It won’t happen again.”
“It better not. If it does, it’ll be the last fucking time!”
“Chill out, Boom-Boom,” Boche tried to play peacemaker. “The girl didn’t know.”
Tiny chimed in, “And it sure looked like Adonis was enjoying himself!”
“Not helping,” I muttered as everyone laughed.
Her face even redder, Boom-Boom tried to dodge past me again. Boche got a hand on her but she shrugged him off and stood there, eyes glaring, fists clenched.
“Back the fuck off, Boche! Don’t stick your nose in my bloody business!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the auburn-haired girl smirking, not getting involved, just watching the action in a detached amused way. This sort of bothered me, I had my hands full dealing with her incensed tattooed friend who was trying to kill my sister, and she wasn’t lifting a finger to help.
“I could use a hand here,” I said quietly.
Her mocking smirk grew bigger.
“Not my problem, cher,” she giggled, raising both hands up and taking a step back as if to say, fight your own battles.
No one moved. The standoff continued for a few tense moments: Boom-Boom working herself to a frenzy. Me scared but ready to do anything to protect my sister. Missy totally freaked out holding onto a wide-eyed Mallory. Foxy standing with them, a tense and excited look on her face. Carole looking like a field mouse being stalked by a snake. Boche standing at the ready, waiting for Boom-Boom to strike. The auburn-haired girl still watching, still smirking. Adonis sitting on the blanket with the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen in my life. The other bikers and chicks intently watching the unexpected entertainment.
Finally Tiny had had enough. Standing by the flaming grill, his long white hair and beard blowing in the breeze, brandishing a grease-dripping spatula in his upraised right hand, he looked like Moses coming down from the mountaintop with the tablets. And he sounded like God Himself when he bellowed:
“Boom-Boom! Knock that shit off! Now! Or get to stepping! Your call.”
That did the trick. Boom-Boom took one more step forward, thought better of it, turned and stormed off, followed by her auburn-haired friend, who paused long enough to give me a quick ‘You just got saved from an ass-kicking’ look, before disappearing into the shadows. Mallory tried to comfort Missy, who was crying. Carole looked like she was going to faint. Or toss her cookies. Or both. Adonis stood up and stretched, suddenly bored now that the fun was over. “You chicks are fucking wacko. I’m going to Taco Bell for a chalupa.” He walked off. The others drifted back to whatever they were doing before this all started.
My heart racing, I stood stock-still for a second, not able to move. (Mallory told me later my face was as white as a ghost) Boche took my arm gently, snapping me out of my daze, and he led me back to the blanket where Foxy waited.
“Well, that was pretty exciting for a minute, huh?” she said, with a nervous smile.
“Ya think?” I managed a tight little grin. Barely.
“I thought for sure there was gonna be a fight.”
“You’re not the only one.”
“It wouldn’t have gone that far, no,” Boche said. “If Tiny didn’t stop it, I would have.”
I was starting to calm down a bit, the beer that Foxy handed me helped more than a little. Now that Missy was safe and I was still in one piece, there was just one thing on my mind.
“That chick with Boom-Boom. What the hell was up with her?”
“I never saw her before,” Foxy said.
“Not much I can tell you either,” Boche chimed in. “Except her name is Jonica. She is French like me. But from Louisiana. Cajun country.”
“Jonica? Is that her club name?”
“No. Her real name. Tiny hasn’t gotten around to clubbing her yet. She showed up today some time after you. I think she knows Boom-Boom somehow. This is all I know.”
“Thank you, Boche. And thanks also for helping before.”
Boche smiled, gave a courtly little bow that seemed sort of out-of-place with the leather he was wearing but, at the same time, so natural for him. He turned and walked back to the blazing fire. I realized Foxy was looking at me intently.
“Why the interest?”
I turned to her. “Huh? What?”
“In Jonica. Why the interest?”
“Oh. No reason.”
“Uh huh.”
I could tell by her face that she knew I was lying. And I knew that she knew that I knew.
Chapter the Third
(And when you’re feeling open I’ll still be here
But not without a certain degree of fear)
Even though mass quantities of Budweiser had been consumed in a very short time by the members of the gang, there were still a few who thought that hitting the bars was a good idea. Boche and two of the more responsible bikers managed to convince the others to keep their bikes where they were for the night. Only one was still willing to risk it even though he was staggering all over the place and almost fell into the garbage can where someone had started a fire. He was a gangly dorky little guy, a rebel without a clue, an A.V. crew reject who insisted that everyone call him B.D.R. even though his club name was Roach. Named for the bug, not the thing you find in your ashtray. He was hanging all over Carole, who probably wished she was anywhere else in the world at the moment.
“Hey! Betcha can’t guess what B.D.R. stands for! Go on, ask me!”
“I really don’t want to play this game.”
“Oh, c’mon! Ask me what it stands for! Ask me!”
Carole sighed, took a deep breath, and grabbed Roach to keep him from sending them both sprawling into the dirt.
“Fine. What does B.D.R. stand for?”
“BIG DICK RICK!”
“You’re disgusting!” She yelled as he burst into wild uncontrollable laughter. She gave him a shove and he fell on his butt, still laughing, as she stormed away. Carole is a good friend and I love her, but she really needs to learn to lighten up. One of the older guys, an off-duty policeman from New York named Kojak, walked over to Roach, grabbed him by his leather jacket, yanked him to his feet and put him in a tight headlock.
“C’mon, you sad little maroon. Time for beddy-bye.” And he dragged the gurgling geek away.
Now the party began in earnest. Tiny came back with even more beer. We were amazed at how much they were able to put away. The area around the truck was like an obstacle course with all the empty Bud bottles. Even though I had only drank maybe three beers all night, I was feeling a lot more comfortable, mainly because Boom-Boom and Jonica were nowhere in sight. Missy was enjoying herself too, and thankfully she had learned her lesson and had toned down her flirting to a ‘PG’ level. She, Mallory and Foxy were chatting with Boche and another nice older guy, who was wearing a studded black leather jacket with an enormous pair of dice on the back that had earned him the name Vegas Pete. After our Dad died when Missy was six and I was thirteen, there hasn’t been a strong father figure in our lives, except maybe the minister and an uncle we’d see every year at Christmas. So it was good that, even out here, Missy has Boche, Vegas Pete, and Kojak too, three really nice guys to watch out for her.
I should mention right about now that I have a breathing condition, chronic asthma combined with having my nose badly broken three years ago. I always carry an inhaler for emergency purposes when I experience shortness of breath for whatever reason. Like right now. I reached into my pocket and came out with…nothing. No inhaler. Then I remembered. I left the cruddy thing in the Airstream. I went over to Mallory, trying to will myself to relax, to breathe normally. Maybe it’s psychological, maybe it’s physical, I always start to panic a little when an asthma attack hits. I told Mal, she handed me the keys and assured me she’d keep an eye on Missy.
Vegas Pete chimed in, “She’s in good hands. No worries.”
Foxy nodded. I looked at Missy, she gave me a grin, I knew I could trust them, knew she’d be okay.
Chapter the Fourth
(Of what will be with you and me
I can still see things hopefully)
On my way back, I passed small groups of people playing guitars, shooting the bull, making out, getting drunk, pitching tents, comparing their choppers like proud parents show off their kids. Every so often, some guy would revv up his bike like the mating call of some lovesick animal, probably expecting ten girls to come rushing over to him out of the darkness. Most of these bikes have no mufflers because their owners are convinced everyone in the world wants to hear them and have their fillings rattled.
I made it to the Airmstream, unlocked the door, went inside. I never saw the shadowy figure emerge from the nearby Winnebago. The same figure that hurried out of sight behind the Winnebago as I came back out with my inhaler. I stopped to use it, breathing deeply as the medication did its job. Then I locked the door and left.
Satisfied that I was gone, the figure came back to the front of the Winnebago looking off after me. The tattoos on her arms and breasts were clearly visible in the bright moonlight. Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits and she started to reach a hand into the back pocket of her tight jeans. The Winnebago door opened and Jonica stepped out. Boom-Boom quickly pulled her hand from her pocket and smiled her brightest smile.
“Hey, babes.”
“Sorry I took so long.” Jonica had changed into a black leather mini skirt, white halter top and flats. “Feeling better now, chere?”
“Yeah. I’m great. Guess I got a little carried away back there, yeah?”
“Just a little. But I don’t blame you. I’d react the same way.”
“Really? You would?”
“Well, sure. The bitch was flirting with your guy, she deserved to get stepped on, you know? And there’s something about her sister that just … I don’t know. Hell, I felt like smacking her myself.”
Boom-Boom smiled. “Well, it’s all over now. Hey, we’d better get back before those bloody pigs drink all the beer.”
They took a few steps, then Boom-Boom stopped.
“Oh, bollocks!”
“What’s wrong, chere?” Jonica asked.
“I, uh, dropped my -- my bottle opener somewhere. The one Adonis stole for me at that Cenex Store.”
“Want me to help you look for it?”
Boom-Boom moved toward the rear of the Winnebago. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s around here someplace. Go on. I’ll catch up. “ She knelt down by the rear tire. “Yeah, yeah. Here it is!” After a quick look to ensure that Jonica wasn’t watching, Boom-Boom pulled something shiny from the back pocket of her jeans.
Chapter the Fifth
(And shake me and my confidence
About a great many things
But I've been there I can see it cower
Like a nervous magician waiting in the wings
Of a bad play where the heroes are right
And nobody thinks or expects too much)
Foxy was dancing on the bed of the pickup to Danzig’s She Rides when I got back to the group. The music blasted out of two huge speakers on either side of the truck. Foxy looked like she was having a great time as she gyrated, slithered and shimmied sensually to the music, using her long legs to their full advantage. Judging from the cheers, whistles, hoots and hollers of the crowd, which seemed to have doubled since I left, they were equally enjoying her performance. Melissa saw me and hurried over, a huge grin on her face.
“There you are! What took you so long?” Without waiting for an answer, she babbled on, as excited as she always used to get on Christmas morning. “Oh my god! You’ll never guess! I just made twenty-five bucks!” She held up a handful of wrinkled dollar bills as proof.
“Twen … What are you … Missy … You didn’t … “ I stammered.
“What? No! Yeesh! I was dancing! On the truck! Looked like fun so I went and did it! And they gave me twenty-five bucks! I think that’s the shit! Isn’t that the shit?”
“Yeah,” I grinned. “That’s the shit, all right. Now maybe you won’t be mooching off me for a while.”
“Well, let’s not get ridi-ca-lous.”
Foxy finished her dance with a flourish that resulted in thunderous applause and a lot of dollar bills for her to happily collect after she hopped off the truck bed. The impromptu dance show continued as, one by one, eager willing girls (and a few guys), filled with liquid courage, took turns strutting their stuff. Even Carole (surprise surprise) took a turn on the truck (it’s amazing the miracles that Budweiser performs!). Kojak, who was acting as the unofficial DJ, selected Sister Christian as Carole’s song, which she didn’t find funny at all. But she danced anyway. I knew that sooner or later the finger of fate would point at me and I did my best to avoid the inevitable as long as I could…staying in the shadows, using my lack of height to keep out of view. But Kojak, with his trained policeman’s eye and his vantage point up on the truck bed, spotted me.
He hollered, “Yo, Peanut! Get up here and show us what you can do!”
(Shit.)
“Busted!” Mallory giggled.
“Shut up.”
The crowd took up the chant. “Peanut! Peanut! Peanut!”
(Double shit.)
“C’mon, Sissy, get up there!’ Melissa shoved me toward the truck. “It’s just dancing. We all did it, even Carole, for cripe’s sake!”
“I hate you.”
I grabbed Missy’s beer, took a quick swig (“Hey, watch the backwash, you!” she protested) and marched to the truck where Vegas Pete and Boche each grabbed an arm and hoisted me up easily onto the bed. Standing up there in my red tank top and daisy dukes, I self-consciously blinked out at the crowd, aware that all eyes were on me. I turn to look at Kojak who smiled reassuringly.
“Don’t worry, Peanut. I have a good one picked out for you.”
I took a quick breath, waited. From the speakers blared:
“Dirty, rotten, filthy, stinkin … “
(Oh holy crap on a cracker!)
“She’s my Cherry Pie
Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise
Tastes so good, makes a grown man cry
Sweet Cherry Pie … ”
As soon as the song started, I began swaying, not moving my feet which felt like they were frozen on the spot, just leaning my body side to side like I was balancing myself on the deck of a rocking boat in a storm. Then I thought, oh, to hell with it, just have fun! I closed my eyes and let the music wash through me, beginning to feel more comfortable, imagining I was at home listening to my stereo in my room, not out here in a field with hundreds of strangers in viewing distance. I started rocking to the music, letting myself, go, shaking my head, whipping my hair, kicking my legs, shimmying to the beat. I could hear the crowd cheering and I responded with a wink as I slid my forefinger into my mouth and sucked it before slowly pulling it out.
I was so caught up in my own little world that it took a while for me to realize someone was up on the truck bed dancing alongside me. Jonica. She gave me the same snarky smile as before and then turned her attention to the cheering onlookers. I knew right away what she was up to, showing me up. She gyrated, blew a kiss, bent over and began shaking her butt at the bikers who loved every minute of it. Someone else was enjoying it too. Boom-Boom was leaning on the truck bed, her dark eyes shining, a malicious smile on her pretty face.
“That’s it, Joni,” she crowed. “Show the bloody slag how it’s done!”
Fine, I can play that game too, I thought. I crowded Jonica, started aggressively bumping my hip into her. She stood her ground and gave me such a hard bump that I stumbled and almost fell out of the truck. I regained my balance and shoved her back. Our eyes locked, neither of us were smiling now. This was a test of wills. I was determined not to back down. Jonica and I continued to bump our bodies together, amazingly keeping in time to the music.
I slammed my hip into her leather-covered ass. Jonica had to grab the side of the truck. The crowd was whipped to a frenzy as I moved in to pitch her out. But Boom-Boom grabbed my ankle and Jonica hooked my other foot with hers. My arms flailed as I hurtled forward, out of the truck, landing hard in the grass and dirt. Melissa and Foxy rushed to me as I scrambled back up to my feet. Mallory and Carole stood, frozen in wide-eyed shock. My eyes filled with angry tears, more embarrassed than hurt, my fists clenched, watching Jonica smile, wave and play up to the cheering crowd.
Sensing trouble, Kojak killed the music. Boche and Vegas Pete approached the truck, ready to prevent a fight. Needless to say, they were the minority. Just about everyone else was itching for violence. Including me.
“What the hell was that all about?” I hissed at Jonica as she lightly hopped down from the truck bed.
“No offense, sweetie. You looked like you were lost up there,” she replied with a shrug and a smile. “Just trying to help you out.”
“Thanks for nothing,” I muttered.
From somewhere in the shadows, Tiny’s drunken bellow: “Kick her ass, Peanut!” Followed by a loud long belch.
I took a small step forward. Jonica stood her ground, spread her feet, looked me right in the eyes in total seriousness and said in a low voice that only those of us close to her could hear, “You don’t REALLY want to try anything, do you?”
I took another step toward her. Missy grabbed my shoulder, Foxy held tight to my arm. Boche and Vegas Pete inched closer.
(this is crazy this is crazy this is crazy this is crazy)
A few tense seconds passed. Felt like an hour. I shrugged myself free from their grasp. My gaze never left Jonica’s.
Another time, my eyes told hers.
I’ll be ready, her eyes answered back.
I started to turn away. Everyone relaxed. Crisis over. But then …
“No, I didn’t think so, chere.”
I whirled back, lunged at Jonica. She was caught off-guard by the unexpected quickness of my move and the hard slap to her face that followed rocked her head and sent her stumbling back into Boom-Boom, who managed to catch her before she fell. Vegas Pete and Boche grabbed me before I could continue my attack and Kojak jumped off the truck, positioning himself in front of Jonica to block her from coming after me.
In a loud voice, Boche declared, “All right! That’s enough! This ends right now, yes?”
The crowd did not like that at all. Oh, no, they definitely did not. A chorus of boos and a few scattered “Fuck, no! Let them fight!” chants filled the air.
Vegas Pete’s grip on my wrist was so tight I couldn’t have fought even if I wanted to. And part of me did. The bitch embarrassed me in front of a bunch of people. It made no difference that I would never see most of them ever again after tonight. They were here. They saw her do it. That’s enough. Even as these thoughts swirled through my brain, I heard Melissa’s voice in my ear.
“I’m so sorry I got you into this, Sissy.”
That did it. That was enough to stop me. All that anger, all that frustration, gone. My body relaxed. I knew my sister would blame herself if anything bad happened.
“It’s okay, Missy,” I reassured her. “I’m not gonna fight.” I turned to Vegas Pete. “I’m fine, Pete. Really. No more trouble from me.”
Foxy chimed in, “I believe her, Pete.”
Vegas Pete looked at Boche, then they both looked at me. At Foxy who nodded. At Missy’s frightened face. Back at me. Then, at the same time, they both let go. Melissa breathed a relieved sigh as we turned and moved away from the truck.
Boom-Boom let out a hooting laugh. “Don’t go away mad, slag! Just go away!”
Boche whirled on her. “Ta Gueule! Shut your mouth, Boom-Boom!”
Boom-Boom turned to him. “Don’t you start with me, Frenchy! You’ll regret it, yeah?”
Boche replied in a quiet but firm voice. “Let it be, Boom-Boom. It’s over.”
The angry girl opened her mouth to reply but Jonica’s hand on her arm stopped her. The two of them walked off into the shadows.
Kojak, in his best cop voice, said, “Okay, everyone. Show’s over. Let’s break it up, huh? Get back to some fun.”
Bummed out that the expected fight never happened, some of the crowd went to drown their disappointment with more Bud. Others crawled into tents and onto blankets to let off some steam in other ways. Kojak climbed back on the truck and started the music up again. But the Buffalo Chip Dance Show was over for the night.
“Laurie, were you really going to fight?” Carole asked as soon as we joined the others.
“Of course she was!” Mallory insisted. “The bitch was asking for a beatdown!”
(stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it)
“Laurie? Really?”
“Huh? Really what, Carole?”
“You were REALLY gonna fight her?”
“I don’t know. Yeah. Maybe. I guess.” I turned to Mal. “Can I have the keys again? I’m gonna head back to the Airstream, maybe lay down for a little bit.”
“You want me to come with you?” Missy asked as Mallory handed me the keys.
“No, Sissy, you stay here and have fun,” I smiled to reassure her. “I’ll be fine. I swear. I just want to lay down.”
Her look was still doubtful. But she finally grinned.
“I’ll leave the door unlocked in case I zonk out.” I turned to Foxy. “Thank you for backing me up.”
“Hey, no problem,” the blonde smiled.
In a quieter voice, I continued, “I need a favor. Please keep an eye on my sister. In case those two psychos come back and start up some more of their shit. Get her out of here fast.”
Foxy nodded. “You got it.”
Thanks.”
I gave Boche and Vegas Pete a little wave. Boche waved back, Pete winked, then they both watched me walk off into the night, turning back to the party only after I had disappeared from sight.
Chapter the Sixth
(But you
Why you wanna give me a run-around
Is it a sure-fire way to speed things up
When all it does is slow me down)
After I got back to the Airstream, I took off my tank top and daisy dukes, turned on the tap and splashed some cold water on my face. I was starting to calm down again. Maybe laying down for a little while would be a good idea. I pulled on my Augustana t-shirt, climbed the ladder up to the sleeping area above the cab and closed my eyes. I must have dozed off, I don’t know for how long. I heard loud pounding, then a door being pulled open.
(whafuck?)
I was starting to open my eyes when a pair of hands roughly grabbed me by the shirt and an angry voice screamed close to my ear.
“YOU ARE FUCKING DEAD, YOU PSYCHO BITCH!”
I was pulled down off the bed and hit the floor with a painful thud.
(whaFUCK???)
Completely awake now, I saw Jonica, her face red and twisted in rage, standing over me. She kicked me in the side really hard and I pulled away from her before she could do it again. But she quickly grabbed me by the hair and yanked me up to my feet. Crying out from the stinging pain, I flailed at her with my fists. My punches forced her to let go of my hair and I straightened up, glaring at her. Her eyes were wide, flashing. Her chest heaved under her white halter. Her entire body was tense, like a viper ready to strike.
“Me psych bitch?! ME PSYCHO BITCH??? What the fuck is your problem?!” I yelled.
“Don’t give me that ‘Little Miss Innocent Shit’! You know damn well what my problem is!”
“Yeah! You’re a psycho lunatic! NOW GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT!”
“Oh, I’ll leave,” Jonica snarled as she suddenly grabbed my hair again. “But you’re coming with me!”
I charged into her as she began to pull me to the door. We both flew out of the Airstream, landing in a tangled heap of flailing arms and legs on the grass and gravel. Jonica released my hair and wrapped her arm around my neck, squeezing hard. I dug my nails deep into her wrist and drove my other elbow hard into her tummy until she let go. We both scrambled away from each other and rose to our knees.
“Did the slag admit what she did?” came a voice from the shadows.
Boom-Boom. Watching. There was no smirk or smile on her face now. She gave me a look like she was convinced I was guilty of every crime committed since the dawn of time. Even though I was mad as hell, I knew I had to try to stay rational.
“I don’t want any more trouble from the two of you,” I said in what I hoped was a reasonable voice. I looked at Jonica. “What happened in there,” I pointed at the Airstream, “I’ll let that slide. You’re pissed about something. I wish I knew what it was.”
“You wanna know what she’s pissed about, slut? You really wanna know, yeah? Take a look at THAT!”
Boom-Boom pointed an accusing finger down to the right rear tire of Jonica’s Winnebago. Even to my untrained eye, the tire definitely looked like a murder victim. One clue for my brilliant observation was that it was entirely flat, the rim kissing the gravel. Another clue was the small stainless steel hunting knife that had been plunged deep into it. I was shocked. Speechless. I stared at the stabbed flat tire. The steel handle of the knife glinted in the moonlight.
(Looks like a CSI crime scene. Somebody should be along any minute now to take fingerprints and check for DNA.)
“Proud of your handiwork, huh?” Jonica’s voice, boiling with anger, brought me back to now.
The realization dawned on me. They think I’m the tire killer! I turned to face her. “I -- You don’t think I -- Now, hold on a minute, “ I stammered. “I did NOT do this, I swear to God I didn’t!”
Boom-Boom wasn’t buying it. (What a shock!) “Don’t try to lie your way out of this, yeah? We know you did it, bitch.”
Ignoring Boom-Boom, I kept my eyes on Jonica. Trying to get her to believe I was telling the truth. “Look. Okay, we had our problems tonight. But I would NEVER do anything like that.”
“Bullshit,” Boom-Boom snapped. “You did it, cxnt. And you’re gonna pay for it.”
“That’s right,” Jonica hissed. “One way or the other. You’ll fucking pay for this.”
I threw my hands up in disgust. “I give up. It’s like talking into a dead phone. I’m outta here.”
I turned to go back into the Airstream. Big mistake. Jonica speared me from behind and I hit the gravel again, facedown with her on my back. A little stunned and winded from the impact, I still had enough presence of mind to buck up hard, throwing her partway off me. It was enough for me to scoot back and shove her away. Breathing hard, with tiny specks of gravel on my face and tummy (my Augustana tee had ridden up, exposing my red panties), I launched myself at Jonica. She clutched at me as our bodies smacked together and we started rolling around again, both of us trying to get an advantage, neither of us able to. Like I said, we are both about the same size, she’s maybe an inch taller (5’2” to my 5’1”) and we both are about 115 pounds.
I knew I could be in big trouble. Not only was a raging Cajun trying to beat the shit out of me, I had that crazy psycho Boom-Boom ready to wade in and join the fight any time she wanted. But right now she seemed content with just standing there cheering Jonica on.
“That’s the way, babes! Kick her fucking arse!”
It’s amazing how fast people show up when a fight starts. You could swear the two of you were alone, that no one else was within miles, but just make a grab for her hair and a crowd gathers. Like the mysterious voice in that same Kevin Costner baseball movie, “If you pull it, they will come.” (I’m talking about HAIR now, people! Get your minds out of the gutter, thank you!) Like sharks sensing blood in the water, gawkers just seem to materialize out of thin air within seconds. Or maybe they just happen to be in the right place at the right time. Whatever. As Jonica and I rolled around, slapping, pinching, scratching, hair-yanking, squealing, moaning, I became aware of voices other than Boom-Boom’s.
“HOLY SHIT! CATFIGHT!”
“HOO-WHEE! GUD-DAMN!”
“RIP HER CLOTHES OFF!”
“BOOBIES! WE WANT BOOBIES!”
“OH HELL YEAH! SHOW US YOUR TITS!”
Then hands suddenly pulling us apart. I thought maybe it was the cops, breaking us up. (Terrific! Now I’m gonna spend the night in jail, thanks to the bitch!) But, to my surprise, the guys weren’t wearing uniforms. Unless you count black leather and denim the unofficial ‘official’ uniforms of bikers everywhere. (Bikers? Breaking up a catfight??? Somebody better call Ripley’s!) The two bikers kept a tight grip on Jonica and I, knowing we’d fly right back at each other, given the chance. They each walked us a safe distance from each other, then tried to engage us in brilliant conversation.
My guy, Hungry Eyes by name, broke the ice by saying, “Geez, you two were really going at it. You must really hate each other, huh?”
My eyes were glued on Jonica’s back, as the other biker (I found out later they call him Pocket Rocket…I don’t want to know why, I REALLY do not want to know why) was most likely trying to impress her with his equally charming repartee.
“Figured that out all by yourself?”
“Yeah, I’m good that way.” Hungry Eyes laughed, then he got right down to business. “If you two wanna go at it, I say more power to ya, y’know? I’m just saying there might be a way we can ALL benefit from the situation.”
I looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Just this. How’d you like to make yourself some money tonight?”
“Money? What are you talking about?!”
“You wanna kick her ass, right?”
“Well, du-uh.”
“Why not kick her ass AND take home a nice chunk of cash at the same time?”
I stole a quick glance back at Jonica. Pocket Rocket had his hand on her shoulder, probably giving her the same sales pitch. I turned back to Hungry Eyes.
“Keep talking.”
“You two can fight right now till one of you either gives up or can’t continue. The winner wins, the loser gets her ass kicked, it’s all over, nobody has anything to show for it, except some bruises.”
“And satisfaction.”
He continued, “Yeah. But that and a buck can’t even buy you a cup of coffee anymore.”
I had to nod. “You’re right about that.”
Hungry Eyes smiled. He must have suspected I was nibbling at the bait. Now all he had to do was hook me and reel me in. He pressed on, “Or…you two can agree to fight it out later, say, in about an hour. In front of a crowd who’d love the entertainment and pay for it too. In case you haven’t noticed, we can be pretty generous. I think I can guarantee the winner a nice payday.”
I’d already seen how generous these bikers could be. Missy getting twenty-five bucks just for dancing to one song. (“Isn’t that the shit?”) I glanced over at Jonica. She was staring at me. Boom-Boom was by her side with Pocket Rocket. Boom-Boom was yipping away, nodding her head. Pocket Rocket was grinning, grateful for the help, I guess.
Apparently Jonica didn’t need much convincing. Neither did I. Still looking at each other, we both nodded at the same time. After giving each other a quick thumbs-up, Hungry Eyes told me the details while Pocket Rocket did the same to Jonica.
Absolutely no contact with each other till the fight. We each wait in our campers till someone comes for us. Catfight. Not NHB but as extreme as we want to go. In bikinis. Barefoot. Till there was a clear winner. The winner gets the prize money, the loser gets…nothing.
I kept nodding as he droned on. My brain registered maybe one out of every ten words. I would have agreed to anything if it meant getting my hands on that Cajun slut. And soon….in one hour…I’m gonna get that chance. And, by god, I’m gonna make the most of it. That bitch Jonica will suffer. Trust me.
Chapter the Seventh
(Tra la la la bombardier this is the pilot speaking
And I’ve got some news for you
It seems my ship still stands no matter what you drop
And there ain’t a whole lot that you can do)
The next time I hear the expression ‘time flies’, the clueless dipstick who says it will end up with a slap in the face. Time does NOT fly. The hour I spent waiting in that Airstream was the longest sixty minutes of my life. Missy, Mallory and Carole didn’t make it any easier. Missy sat next to me on the couch, Carole was up on the bed, Mallory sat in the captain style passenger seat in the cab, unconsciously swiveling it side to side. They were all staring at me. I wasn’t looking at anything. The only sounds in the camper were our tense nervous breathing and the constant low creak of Mal’s swiveling seat.
Melissa blurted out suddenly, “Damn it, Mallory, will you cut that out? You’re making me dizzy!”
Mallory stopped. “Sorry.”
“Laur, you’re not really going through with this, are you?” Carole asked for probably the nineteenth time.
“Of course she is, dumb-ass,” Mal snapped. “How many freaken times are you gonna ask that?”
Carole chucked a pillow down at her. “Get off my case, rat bag!”
Mallory grabbed the pillow, jumped up and smashed it in Carole’s face. Missy joined them and a three-way tug of war for the pillow began.
“Hell of a vacation,” I said to no one in particular.
Everyone froze at the sudden knock on the Airstream door. The pillow fell to the floor. All eyes swung back at me. I gave a little nod and Mal opened the door. Pocket Rocket stood there framed in the doorway.
“It’s time,” was all he said.
I nodded again, stood up, adjusted the top of my light aquamarine bikini. The butterflies in my stomach were all wearing spiky helmets and stiletto heels but I tried to mask it with a small grin. Nobody was buying it, least of all me. Still I tried.
“Time for this munchkin to head down that old yellow brick road.”
Pocket Rocket moved aside as I stepped out of the Airstream, followed by the others. I looked around for Jonica, didn’t see her, but could tell the Winnebago was empty. The tire was still dead, nobody had come to cart the body off to the morgue, but the murder weapon had been removed. We walked through the camp, past tents, campers, cars, all now strangely deserted.
(Did we have a Rapture and nobody told us???)
“Everybody’s at the fight,” Pocket Rocket answered the silly question in my head. “Waiting for you.”
“Ah,” I said quietly. “Mustn’t keep ‘em waiting. That would be rude.”
“Laur,” Missy started.
“I’m fine,” I cut her off calmly, without looking back. “No worries, Sissy.”
The grass was cool and damp under my bare feet. I could hear the rumblings of engines in the distance, getting louder and louder as we came to a clearing. I stopped as I took in the sight of a whole lot of motorcycles (I can’t say exactly how many there were, I didn’t think to count them all, I had other things on my mind). They were almost all Harleys, set up handlebar to handlebar, like a large metal and chrome and rubber ring. A biker sat astride each one, waiting expectantly. All the headlights were on, illuminating the circle of bare ground in the middle. Other spectators lounged on the grass and gravel, or stood with their thumbs in their jeans pockets, like a panoramic tableau of ‘cool’.
Missy gave a sharp intake of breath. “Oh my god,” she whispered.
A few of the spectators moved, opening the circle, giving me an entrance. It’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience, I thought. I can feel myself walking but I’m not controlling my legs, I’m being pulled into this ring one step at a time and I’m not resisting. Okay. Now I’m in the ring and the circle closes again. I scan the crowd for familiar friendly faces. Missy. Mal and Carole. I try to put their frightened looks out of my mind. There’s Foxy over there. She gives me a reassuring smile. Vegas Pete and Boche, looking stoic. Kojak gives me a quick thumbs-up. Tiny, sitting cross-legged on the ground, like a ginormous white-bearded Buddha, his head down, either asleep or passed out.
Then everyone’s attention was diverted to the other side of the circle. Another opening materialized and Jonica appeared, her auburn hair pulled back, her body lithe and toned under her red bandanna pattern bikini. Her eyes met mine and I felt a sharp tingle of fear course through my whole body. I shivered, and it wasn’t from the cool night air either.
(Stop it! There’s nothing to be scared of now, I told myself. We’re practically the same size, Jonica and I. Not like that Lakota heifer bitch that put you in the hospital. Focus, Laurie, focus!)
Boom-Boom was by her side. After a quick whisper in her ear and a hug, Boom-Boom drifted back and the ring closed once again. Jonica and I faced each other. Both of us tense and ready, bobbing up and down on the balls of our bare feet, fists clenching and unclenching, wondering if there was going to be a signal to start or what. That mystery was solved when one of the bikers, a guy with red hair that matched the big grinning devil’s head on the back of his leather jacket, moved between us. I guess he must be the announcer or emcee or something. He raised his arms up for quiet.
“Howdy, folks, they call me Carolina Red,” he drawled loudly over the idling engines. “An’ I’d like to welcome everybody to this here gathering. All y’all are out here for one reason an’ one reason only! An’ it sure as hell ain’t to listen to me talking at ya! These two li’l ladies have themselves some differences an’ they are gonna settle them once an’ for all right here an’ right now! So … LET’S GET IT ON!”
Red got the hell out of Dodge as Jonica and I started circling each other, hands up. We moved closer, each of us looking for an opening, both wanting to attack but being careful. I’ve never seen a look of fury on another girl’s face that compared to what I was seeing on the pretty face of the Cajun facing me. (She wants to fucking kill me!) As we got closer, Jonica lashed her foot out at my knee but I saw it coming and scooted back out of harm’s reach. The bikers, realizing the fight was starting to heat up now, all revved their engines in unison. The sudden loud explosion of noise distracted me.
(Have you ever heard a shitload of Harleys all rev up at the same time? It’s not something you hear every day, let me tell ya!)
Jonica saw her chance to attack and seized the opportunity. I turned my head, and never saw her bend down, scoop up a handful of dirt and throw it right in my face just as I started turning back to her. I cried out as some of the grit got into my eyes. I started blinking madly, my eyes were stinging, and I reached up both hands to wipe them. Jonica yelled, “Salope!” (I found out later that means “bitch” in Cajun-speak. I guess I should be flattered.) and drove her right foot hard into my belly. I doubled over, the air whooshed from my mouth and I stumbled back, tripped and landed on my ass in the gravel and grass.
“That’s it, babes! Kick her fucking South Dakota arse so we can get the hell outta here!” Boom-Boom screeched like a banshee.
“Get up, Sissy! Get up!” Missy cheered me on.
My vision was still blurred but, thanks to the bright headlights, I was able to make out that she was moving in at me and I was ready. I let her get close enough, planted both hands on the ground behind me for support and lashed my foot up and out at her shin.
“Fils de putain!” Jonica hissed out in pain as my heel struck bone. She hobbled back and that gave me the chance to scramble back up to my feet again. I rushed her, got both hands in her hair, pulled her head down as I yanked her close to me, then drove my left knee up hard into her lower belly. She let out a low moan as I snarled in her ear, “This is what you get when you fuck with a Badlands girl, you Cajun whore!”
“Fuck you, slut!” she countered as she drove a couple of hard punches into my ribs. I twisted away and let go of her hair, taking a couple steps back. We circled again, trading a few wild swinging punches that we both easily dodged.
“The air is taking a hell of a beating!” a voice called out, followed by some laughter.
My vision finally clearing, I moved in closer, fists up, and faked a punch at Jonica’s face. As she brought her arms up to block, I quickly planted my left foot and threw a hard kick, my right foot slamming into her side. Her legs buckled, she let out a gasp, and backed up as the bikers revved their engines in approval. I rushed in, tackling her as she was back-pedaling and we hit the ground hard, with me on top.
“UNNGGHHH!” I heard her cry out as her back smashed into the grass. I started to scramble on top of her but she twisted her body and bucked up hard, her hand cupping my face at the same time, squeezing and digging her nails deep into my cheeks. My teeth gritted, moaning in pain, I had to place a hand on the ground for balance as I fought to stay astride her. I grabbed her hair with my free hand, yanked her head up, then slammed it back down on the ground. She yelped again, a mix of pain and fury in her wide eyes. She suddenly brought her knee up hard into the small of my back, making me lose my balance just enough for her to twist again sharply, throwing me completely off her.
As I pulled myself up to my hands and knees, Jonica grabbed me by the hair with both hands, got to her knees, spat out “Your turn now, salope!”, and drove my head down face-first into the hard gravel and damp grass. She pressed both her hands down hard into the back of my head, really pushing my face down. My nose twisted to the side, my eyes closed, I struggled to pill away as she rubbed and ground my face into the ground.
She giggled, “Having fun, chere?” as I flailed my fists wildly at her and kicked my legs. My fist hit her thigh and I immediately opened it, latching my nails into her tender flesh. I heard her cry out as she released my head. I quickly scampered back on my knees, raising up slowly, wiping the gravel from my red face and spitting some out of my mouth. Jonica got to her feet and was on me in a flash, making a grab for my hair. She never saw my elbow swing at her but she sure felt it when it crashed hard into her crotch.
“UNNHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Jonica’s loud tortured cry even drowned out the constant rumblings of the engines. Her eyes got all wide and filled with tears, her mouth opened in stunned agony and she dropped down to her knees like she was shot. As I stood up, breathing hard, I could hear voices in the crowd.
“GUD DAMN!”
“OH SNAP!!!”
“FUCKING SLAG!!! GET UP, JONI!!!” (Give you three guesses who said that and the first two don’t count!)
I didn’t hear Mallory when she turned to Melissa and said, “Remind me never to piss your sister off!!”
I looked down at Jonica, moaning, on her knees, rocking back and forth.
“Gee, that musta really hurt, huh? Hate when that happens!” I sneered.
I know what you’re thinking. She’s hurt, finish her off. But something deep inside me wanted to punish the bitch, humiliate her, pay her back for all the shit she and her asshole friend Boom-Boom put me through tonight. So I reached down, grabbed her hair and pulled her up into a tight side headlock. Her face got red from the pressure, I really had it cinched in tight. She tugged at my arm but I just squeezed even harder, her face pressed up against my body. I decided to show off a bit so I began walking around the ring, with Jonica still trapped in the headlock forced to follow. I stopped when I got to Boom-Boom, her face red with rage, seething in helpless fury.
“You’re Cajun girlfriend isn’t shit!” I hissed.
Boom-Boom made a sudden lunge at me but was restrained by Boche and Kojak. She squirmed in their grasp as I laughed and pulled Jonica back to the middle of the ring. But my Cajun foe was far from finished. She reached her left hand (the one closest to me) up my back and grabbed my hair, tugging down hard. My head jerked back and I cried out in pain. But that pain was a walk in the park compared to what happened next. She viciously clamped her right hand on my kitty in a vise-like claw which had me howling. I rose up to my tiptoes and let go of the headlock as Jonica positioned herself behind me, yanking my hair and tightening the clawhold.
A voice bellowed, “SHIT, I WAS JUST EXPECTING SOME LAME-ASS ROLLING AROUND BUT THESE BITCHES ARE FUCKING SERIOUS!”
I made a grab for Jonica’s wrist but she released the claw and my hair, wrapped her arms around my waist. I struggled as she lifted me in the air, pivoted on one foot, twisted our bodies, and drove me down into the ground with her on top. My pert 32Bs were flattened, the wind was knocked out of me and all I could do was lay there, gasping as I tried to catch my breath. She stretched out on top of me, pinning my body with hers, immobilizing me.
“Get the … fuck … off me!” I wheezed.
Her mouth was close to my ear as she hissed, “Beg me, you fucking peeshwank!”
I don’t know what that means but I’m pretty sure it’s not a compliment. I tried to buck up but couldn’t dislodge her. I felt her feet moving, slapping against my shins and ankles, trying to grapevine my legs. I kept kicking and sliding my legs as much as possible to avoid that. The fall winded me badly and I could feel my strength start to fade. Jonica snaked one arm around my neck, and tightened it, choking me. I gurgled and rasped as my windpipe constricted. Desperate, I threw a hand up and back at her face, clawing at her eyes. Her screech practically deafened me but it was worth it. She jerked away, sliding off me, rubbing her eyes as I rolled a safe distance away.
We both lay where we were for a bit, composing ourselves. Tired, sweaty, hurting. Then, as if one thought hit us both at the same time, we pulled ourselves up to our knees in unison. I looked deep into her eyes. She returned the gaze. At that moment we both understood clearly that giving up is not an option. Not for me. Not for Jonica. Pride. That’s all that matters now. This fight will only end when one of us is beaten to the point where she can’t continue. Two of us walked into this circle of motorcycles. Only one of us will walk out.
