It feels as though the sun came up just seconds after my head hit the pillow. It blazes down on me through the cracks in my curtains as if urging me to join it and rise. But I guess I deserve it. I've become nocturnal lately. All of the crews usually make trades during the dark hours, so most of my raids happen at night. I sleep through the day in my cell because I have nothing else to do.
I yawn for what seems like five minutes and try to pull myself up. I'm unsuccessful. I decide falling out of the bed will wake me. My muscles scream at me after having run most of the other night from cop cars and then falling asleep on the concrete floor of a holding cell, but at least I'm awake.
The house is quiet as I collect some spare clothes from the cupboard and chug down milk and an energy bar for breakfast. It's not much, but it's better than the jail food they serve me. That shit tastes like over-dated homemade porridge. I silently thank God for Alice and the blessing she is to me. Just about the only damn blessing I'll ever get.
"You off, are you?" asks a voice from the couch.
I peer across the counter into the living room and discover the voice is Shane's; he'd fallen asleep on the couch, curled up with the throw-rug hanging over the backrest and his hair sticking up in all directions. He looks like Harry Potter on crack. I choke back a laugh.
"Yeah, not that I'd love to see the look on Alice's face when she sees you."
His eyes falter a little. "Yeah ... hope all goes well." He adjusts himself and goes back to sleep.
Same to you Shane, I think to myself, hoping he'd actually fallen asleep watching Law & Order and not the alternative.
Just like yesterday, the air outside is freezing and it nips at the skin of my face like tiny beestings. I shove my hands in the pockets of my sweater and make my way to the bus stop.
When I climb aboard Route 13 eight minutes later, I find the bus to be reasonably empty. It's just the way I like it. I slump in a seat near the back of the vehicle, watching the cars fly past and trying not to be too anxious about my meet with the East crew. Their eccentric leader Jez will definitely not be happy that his package didn't get delivered.
It's probably better to give the East crew some time to cool, I tell myself. Deal with the other problem first. Get it over with.
Oh, I would much rather deal with a temperamental Jez than go where I'm about to go. Not at seven in the morning when I'm tired and don't feel like confrontation with old ... colleagues. But the incident of two nights ago needs to be addressed, so I try and imagine what I'm going to say to the Southbend Bikers when I show up on their turf and blame them for the mix up last night as the bus weaves through traffic. I have no doubt it was their guy who got arrested after the cops showed up and took the both of us in. They must be getting slacker with their member initiation. The guy was a complete twat.
Because it's nearly peak-hour, there's a lot of traffic and I arrive at the south side of the city slower than normal. I slump off the bus and stroll through the empty Ascot Playground. The grass is still covered in a light sheen of morning dew already melting and I tramp straight through it, heading for the alley behind the park.
I can hear their motors rumbling before I make it around the corner. Between the two buildings over five stories high is one of the local hangouts for the Southbend Bikers. I know it well, and it makes me anxious. It's been a long time since I've been around these parts. The Southbend Bikers are feared in this area, so no one will dare cross paths with them here. It's a known spot to avoid at all costs.
Remembering my history with them, I swallow the lump of unwanted fear in my throat and approach loudly, hoping they'll hear me. But their heated conversation catches my attention and I stop short just out of sight, my heart already pounding.
"Hell no, Conner, she's not getting involved with that. No way."
"She can help," sneers the one called Connor.
"They won't allow it."
"They asked for her."
"So you just want to hand her over?"
"What choice do I have?"
"You don't know her like we do, she won't agree."
"Then we make her agree. I'm not saying no to them, I'll be crucified."
My head is spinning as I try to make out the voices. I'd recognize Big Billy's gruff voice anywhere. I match it with a picture in my head of his huge, teddy-bear physique and kind eyes. The other voice has to be Todd, an original member who was like a brother to me - he constantly grated my nerves but always had my back.
But the one called Connor I do not know. He speaks with very little confidence, but everything he's saying sounds like a command. Could Connor be the new leader of the Southbend Bikers? I heard on the grapevine that the most recent leader was killed in a shooting near this very meet spot. Mercy left the Southbend Bikers a year ago. After that, their authority over the other crews began to dissipate. Mercy was a man who many both feared and respected equally. I don't know what happened to him, no one does.
"It doesn't matter now," says Connor hastily. "Point is they want the girl, and I'm not about to argue."
Who on earth are they talking about? 'She' could be anyone and 'they' are clearly powerful - they've got the most notorious crew shaking in their boots. Are they out-of-towners, maybe from a bigger city than ours? My curiosity peaks at this point and I decide to finally make myself known. I slip around the corner and face the crew that first took me in and changed my life forever.
"Well ... look what the cops spat out."
Billy is the first to notice me and before I even glance at the others, I run up and throw myself at his big gut. He groans and stumbles back a step then pats my back a couple times. Billy is tough as nails and one of the fiercest fighters out there, but to me he was always a softie.
"It's good to see you're still standing, Billy-boy." I grin at him.
"Same goes for you, Jessie." Billy is the only one who ever called me that, except my parents when I was a little girl.
Someone behind me clears his throat and I turn to see the rest of the gang. They face me with frowns and appraising glances, lounging over their bikes or against the alley wall. I'm surprised that Connor is the only one I actually don't know. There's Todd Mills, leaning casually on a metal trash can. He'd be twenty-four now, with an attitude, a good body and sharp eyes that are always watching. He's a known God with the 'weapons' side of things, which makes him an asset to any crew. I always wondered when he'd become the next leader, but Todd loves being the right-hand man rather than the one held responsible when things turn to shit. He's the devil on the leader's shoulder and he knows how to get what he wants out of someone.
Donatello is next to Todd. He's a weird Italian guy who I never fully understood. A good inside man, he knows a lot about trading and his connections are international. I don't mind him, so much as he keeps his horny hands off me. He never can.
Then there's Sam with a temper worse than mine. He'll be the one to get the fight started just by mouthing off to another member. Next minute there's a full-on brawl in the streets and police sirens are blaring in the distance. He's quick on his feet and loyal as hell though.
Li migrated from Korea and hardly ever speaks, at least not when I was a member. He and Mickey - a pot addict and self-proclaimed hippy - joined at the same time. Mickey's list of suppliers is endless. He was practically raised by marijuana farmers.
And that's the Southbend Bikers. Or what's left of them. Back when Mercy ruled the streets and I was initiated, we had close to thirty members at the one time. The tides have certainly turned since then.
"Hey Jessie," Donatello grins. His eyes roam my body like it's a meat pie. "You lookin' good."
I roll my eyes at him.
"So you're the Knight girl?" asks Connor, his head inclined. He has a square-shaped face, greasy black hair and wide eyes like bugs. His jaw is clenched so tight, I'm sure he'll break his teeth.
"Jess Knight, actually," I say.
"We were considering tracking you down after last night. You know what you cost us?"
I shrug. "Dinner and a pint?"
Billy chuckles. "She's still got the snark in her, eh Todd?"
I glance over at Todd. He's twisting a knife in his fingers, the point digging into his skin but not piercing it. The knife is blunt: creep likes it that way. "Yeah but she's lost her edge. What happened to you yesterday?" he asks me.
"Joint. All day."
"Did you happen to see Travis when you were lounging about in your holding cell?" asks Todd and his black eyes glimmer with anger.
I match his fierce gaze. Todd doesn't scare me. "Travis was an idiot."
Connor steps forward. I can see fury flaring in his black, bug eyes. That's a bad quality in a gang leader; they're supposed to be the senile ones. "You cost us a man. He's probably in there for a couple of years now."
"I cost you a man? It wasn't my fault!" I blurt out, reminding myself to keep my cool. The Southbend Bikers don't take angry outsiders well. They wouldn't hesitate to shut me up if I started shouting, even if I was once one of them.
"You still didn't answer the question," says Todd.
"What, you really want to know?"
He gives me a nod. I exhale in frustration.