One
Diego
Riding on the wings of freedom. Or as close as a man can come to it. I weaved slowly through the Pacific Highway traffic, the wind breezing past my face and the soft throttle of my Harley-Davidson leading me to my next destination. My chopper took me where I needed to be. Right now the road was leading to an unknown destination somewhere along the Californian coast. Just how I liked it. Things had changed drastically since Ryder took over from Padre as president of the Outlaw Souls. The chapter roster was switching up and people were being shuffled around the chessboard. I wanted out. My restless bones wanted someplace fresh and new. Someplace where people didn’t know my name. With the changeover, my nomad patch stripes came into full effect and I got my chance.
“It’s what Padre would have wanted. The floor is yours.” Yoda, Padre’s brother and chapter chaplain, sealed it at the Blue Dog Saloon meeting before I left. Music to my ears because the town of La Playa was…well, played out.
“You’ve officially been given your nomad stripes. Padre always wanted to open a new chapter and expand the operation,” Yoda explained.
“Then I’m the man to do it.”
“Job’s all yours, Diego. I approve of it.” Yoda nodded while shaking my hand.
My essentials were neatly packed in my leased apartment. Ready to go. I would sort out the rest from wherever I landed. My heart had been calling me to leave for years. But I’d met someone that slowed my progress down. A beautiful woman. After things went sour with Crystal, I felt a sense of relief. I still wanted to remain loyal to the chapter, but the desperate ache to spread my wings made me jump at the chance to leave.
My chopper continued gliding smoothly through the California traffic as my stomach rumbled, telling me it was about time to stop and eat. No sad goodbyes and no heavy hearts either. I wasn’t the man for that. When I moved on I liked to cut it clean. I planned on staying within the borders of California. I would know when to put the kickstand down. My plan was to check in somewhere and land where I felt best. That was as far as I got with it.
Thinking back to when I first met, things with Crystal had probably deteriorated over time. I used to frequent Marty’s every Friday night. One Friday, I rode in solo and parked myself in a good spot. A mixed crowd of both men and women were out for the night, crimson lighting flooding the stage. I’d found myself a nice little spot close by. I was ready to kick back with some entertainment, maybe drop a little change. A tanned blonde with legs for days, ample curves and a pouty mouth graced the stage, making me sit up. Her moves on the stripper pole were more sensual than the other girls, not so grimy. The difference with her was her body looked natural and soft—no enhancements like I saw with the other strippers.
“Who the hell is that?” I’d tapped the shoulder of the bartender Alice, who I was on a first-name basis with. She put my beer in front of me.
“Ah, you like the look of her? That’s Crystal, she just started here last week.” I inched forward to get a better look. Her eyes met mine and I knew it was on. That was all it took with me. Eye contact. Took a few more visits before anything ramped up between us.
One midnight hour two years ago, that changed as Crystal slid towards me. “You come here all the time. I think it’s about time you take me on a date.” A long tongue suggestion and a kitten crawl across the stage would get you a date real quick with me.
“Sure. We can work something out.” Heavy breasts jiggled as she swayed like fluid water to her feet.
“Sounds good, big boy. Meet you after my set. Drop them fifties right in here.” She pointed to the elastic of her g-string. Of course I did. Any man in their right mind would. Just like that, we got started in a relationship that lasted two years. I grew to love her. But it wasn’t enough. We got into it one night at my place.
“I don’t want to strip anymore. I have enough saved to take a break for a while. Can’t we think about taking the next step? I want a family with you.” That cutesy voice I liked had become whiny to me, making my skin crawl as soon as she said it.
“It's not what I want. I’m not ready to settle down right now. I respect that’s what you want. But honey, it’s not for me.” The tears flowed, and I comforted her as best I could. I knew the man I was inside.
“I didn’t mean it. I mean, I can live without them. I just thought we had something.” Crystal stroked my face and I left her with a kiss.
“We did, but it’s run its course. If you want kids, I don’t want to rob you of that decision.” I rubbed her hands. I wanted to have some level of compassion. “You’re going to find someone just your vibe. I’m not your guy.” Sometimes my honesty got me into trouble. Led to heartbreak. Might be part of the reason my name Diego the “Dog” Christopher fit me. Women never called me that to my face, thankfully. My devilish charm usually won them over. I remained friends with most of the women I banged. Even had a few of them on replay. Just depended on the season and the timing. But I treated all of them with the respect they deserved, which was why they kept coming back. Others in the club might have argued I got my nickname because of my loyalty.
So that was how it was left. No ties. Just the wind puffing up the back of my jacket and a hamburger joint coming up. I’d been riding for three hours and that was about my limit in any given stretch. Time to let my long limbs have a rest. Standing six feet two could have its advantages, but on a bike, it could tighten up the legs a little. I kinda wished I’d taken the coastal route. To have some of the ocean spray hit me in the face along the way. But for some reason, I’d chosen to stick to the Pacific Highway. The sign said “Bakersfield” as I pulled up to an old-school diner. I parked and stretched, taking in the clear blue California sky. A few large trucks were parked on the gravel driveway as I pushed through the screen door. The familiar sizzle of hamburgers on the grill and the distinct smell of onions made my mouth water. Wouldn’t mind a beer as well. However, I was riding so I’d wait. A Mom and Pop hamburger joint, right up my alley. Anytime I rode out and found a good place to stop off for food, I stored it in the memory bank for the next ride. A few truckers were in the booths, making their stops and reading the paper. The sound of the radio flowed through the diner.
“Hey, good looking. On a stop? What can I get ya’?”
I gave the lady behind the counter a big grin. I liked her spunk. A little dumpy probably, in her early fifties with brown hair stuck to her forehead from the Cali heat. She was wearing an old apron. It was just her out front with a rectangular peephole where the meals were being placed behind the counter. An older man with a net was whipping up the meals in the back. I looked up at the chalk menu board.
“Yep. Just passing through. I’m looking at that mega burger. I’ll take it. Don’t leave anything out,” I replied.
“Okay.” She laughed and her stomach heaved along with her. “That’s a mighty fine bike you got out there.” She pointed to it.
“Sure is. My pride and joy.”
“I can see why. We get some bikers that roll through here from time to time. Check out those mags in the rack if you want.” She pointed to a pile of magazines in the middle of the diner. “Take a seat and I’ll bring your burger out. Help yourself to water on the side there.”