The Biker's Doctor

Chapter Two

The bartender, a boney biker named Geoff, made me my favorite drink: hot chocolate with peppermint and whipped cream. If Joe Croche was massive in size, Geoff was a lanky skeleton of a man with his knees and elbows poking out of his jeans and shirt like he was in fast need of a burger.

He placed the drink at the end of the bar for me before I even had a chance to order it. I had been here often enough that Geoff knew what my only drink was, and he made it perfectly.

“Avery.” He nodded hello with a warm smile and continued serving beer to the rest of the patrons.

It was nice that Geoff noticed me, even if everyone else just ignored me.

The drink was not just a regular, rich hot chocolate. The addition of peppermint made it significantly more flavorful, and I loved it. I took a sip and felt more relaxed straight away.

I was wearing my favorite pair of ripped jeans and a simple black shirt. I looked like the daughter of a biker, even though I never wore makeup, which was almost obligatory for the other women who came to this bar. It was my character that didn’t match this place. I was shy and did not want to engage with anyone here.

The hot chocolate was starting to cool five minutes later. I took another sip as the whipped cream melted into the drink, making it even creamier and more delicious.

I continued watching the center of attention, Blake and Joe, as they played another game of pool.

I think Blake is a bully. We didn't get along, although I didn't see him very often. He completely ignored me whenever I was around, including now in the bar.

I put the chocolate drink down to let it continue to melt the whipped cream and noted that Blake had looked over at me, keeping to myself as always.

A judgmental smile was on his face as he shook his head at the whipped cream chocolate I was now enjoying. I may be a mature sixteen, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy a whipped cream chocolate instead of beer if I wanted to. I was not one for disobeying the law and drinking alcohol at my age; that was for sure.

Blake’s lack of an opinion towards me didn’t bother me at all. He was not the kind of bad influence I wanted to be around, and I am more than sure my father felt the same way.

Dad usually left me at Aunt Elenora’s when he came to the bar. This was not the kind of bar he wanted to bring his sixteen-year-old, underage daughter to, but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. Elenora was working today, and it was summer break from school, so there was not much or a choice in coming here if we wanted to spend the day together. I had set aside today to look at the different Universities in our area, even though it was still another year before I graduated and I was going to apply to the one I wanted. Dad wanted to do the ‘fatherly thing’ and come with me to them. I was okay with that, but it meant we had to stop here first.

Elenora Cole was my mother’s sister and her exact opposite. Despite her disdain for my father and his way of life, they tolerated each other for my benefit.

After my mother passed, aunt Elenora wanted to be in my life, something that my father could not refuse, even if he did not like her. I think that their fights were always about me and how I was being raised. I saw both of their points, and I also objectively thought they were both right and wrong about certain obvious matters which did not seem obvious to them at all. I was a great student, and my future was solid. Both of them knew that. My aunt did not want me exposed to my father's world and so disagreed with the few occasional field trips, like coming here to the bar. But it’s not like I was going to be influenced by the evil influences that were here.

I was smarter than that. I wish they would get along better, but I don't think that will ever happen.

The giant grizzly-looking bear Joe, who was playing pool with Blake, was a great shot. Unlike Blake, who had missed twice now, Joe had sunk four balls, and if he dropped the black eight next, he would win. I liked that he wasn't letting Blake win just because he was the President's son. It made me have more respect for Joe and understand why my father had such a high regard for him as well. I could take him on in an equal pool game even if I wasn't tall enough to lean completely over the table to make the more complex shots.

"Alright, Jackson." My father, Dean, said, tapping me on the shoulder to let us both leave.

I did not realize that he had come downstairs from the office and was now standing at the bar.

No pool, darn, I thought to myself as my father made his way towards the door of the bar to leave. Oddly, Jackson was heading towards the door to go with us.

Jackson didn't often leave this bar, so I was a tad surprised when it became clear he was moving in the same direction as the outdoors.

Dad merely touched the two doors, and they nearly threw open because of his strength. Jackson was the first to leave, and we followed. I turned over my shoulder and saw that Blake, too, was now following us. I can only conclude that they were done with the bar, and business was finished for the day.

Blake threw his cue to another member with ease and flexed his jacket, with his bloodied colours, over his shoulders as he made his way to follow us out. The toss of the cue was easy and fluid, as if it had been done a hundred times before, as he then laughed, looking blindly in the other direction. A generous smile covered his features, which made him look carefree.

I might not like Blake, but I could not deny that his life had some appeal. He always seemed happy and enjoying whatever he was doing, even if it was carelessly so. How could a man be so easygoing as that?

I felt a tad bit of jealousy of his character, something I could surely never manage in my own disciplined life. I also hate that the smile made him damn good-looking, too. One could not deny the fact that he could just as easily be on a billboard as a model if he didn’t belong to this club and bar. He would be a heartbreaker in the future just as much as he is one now. I feel bad for any woman who does not see the heart-player that he really is.

I thought about the directions my father and I would take to visit San Francisco State University, and then we could travel south for about an hour to Stanford. I was unsure about my chances of getting into that prestigious place. But who knew? It would all depend on my marks this year, and I was definitely planning to achieve the top marks again, above everyone else.

I bet the Stanford campus will be absolutely stunning on a day like this. What does their library look like?

"Yeah, I don't like it either." Jackson said, lifting his dark black sunglasses over his eyes towards the sun.

Jackson’s squinting eyes towards the sun made it seem like he had been in that bar for days, not hours, and now he was like a vampire entering the sunlight that would burn him.

I loved the feel of the sun on my cheeks at this time of the afternoon. Summer was showing. Too bad that every man back in that bar was missing it. Night crawlers for sure.

Whatever their conversation had been back in the office, it had not gone well, and it was still on both of their minds. There was a new heavyweight in the air. Something was bothering both my father and Jackson. I had to admit that my curiosity as to what was wrong bothered me. I wanted to ask what it was that ‘they did not like’. I knew better. I would never ask that question, never.

I looked at Jackson, ready to say my farewells as he stood in front of his bike, an old-school Chopper that had been kept in absolutely pristine condition.

Blake now stood on the sidewalk at the entrance and was laughing with Joe Croche, who was following last to allow the doors to fall shut behind him. Also, something unusual, as Joe hardly ever left the bar, or a free pool table for that matter.

I rolled my eyes. What an i***t Blake is, I thought to myself.

I enjoy school, reading, studying, and achieving top marks in my class, not to mention the whole year. Dad is proud of that, too. Even though I know he was not scholastic when he was my age. I am sure he acted more like Jackson's son, Blake. But he is my father.

Neither my mother nor my father had gone to university or reached that level of education. He was more than pleased that I would be the first in the family to do so. He was looking forward to looking at the schools today as much as I was, and I could not wait to hear his opinion on each of them.

I heard Blake talking vulgarly about a woman outside the bar, making some comment about her short skirt and how he wished he could see more.

I looked at my father, wanting to put some distance between us and this place as soon as he was ready to get on his bike. I had already eyed my pink helmet and was prepared to put it on. I did not really like riding behind him on the bike, but my father would never drive a car. He was a Harley-Davidson man for life, so unless I planned to meet him somewhere, the bike was a necessary mode of transport alongside him.

My dad was not focused on Jackson or the joke being made about some teenage girl behind us, whom I was deliberately blocking out. No, my father's gaze was on a man across the street from us. A lone figure was standing in the shadows of an alleyway. I did not recognize him as one of the usual attendants of the bar now at our backs, nor did he wear the club colours. He started unzipping his denim jacket and reached inside to retrieve something.

My father pulled me back with one hand as he leaped forward. The grab was so rough that I fell back to the ground, losing my stance completely. I felt an immediate sting as my palms scratched across the pavement bearing the grunt of my entire weight.

I heard a loud bang pierce my ears like thunder. I scrambled to my side, still on the ground and feeling dazed and unsure of my surroundings from the fall.

Once I was able to gather, I was on the ground, and I looked around for my father and understood why he had knocked me backward.

My father has been shot.