“What cultures will we be studying?”
“I'm glad you asked.” Mr. Capshaw walked over to his desk and pulled out a long sheet of paper. Depending on what you get, you're going to be assigned a fraternity, sorority, or a club that's in or outside this school; for example, Ms. Harper, you will be studying the mysterious and wild Anime Club.
The students all laughed.
A student in the front row raised his hand. “Have you ever done field work, Mr. Capshaw?”
The teacher looked offended but then smiled. “Of course I have. You think they'd let any old man come in and teach? I've been to Africa, South America, and the tiniest islands you can imagine. I've studied KKK groups and even tribes that practiced in cannibalism.”
Mr. Capshaw taped the paper to the white board. “Come on up and see what you got. Mr. Shavers you can stay seated.” Everyone turned their head and looked at the meat-head jock in the middle row. “Don't worry, I assigned you the Sigma Zeta sorority.”
“Fuck yeah, thanks Mr. C!”
The class stood up from their seats and began shambling over to the front. I followed the crowd and waited patiently while each student found their name and what club they were assigned. My finger trailed down the list until I found my name.
Charlotte Turner Wheels of Ash Motorcycle Club
A motorcycle club? Is this his idea of a joke? Do they really have clubs where people just talk about motorcycles all day?
“That's it for today. But I want you to get in contact with your clubs and set up times to meet with them. You only need a few days to observe them. We'll skip next week's class and come back in two weeks when your paper is due. If you have any questions during that time, feel free to email me.”
Everyone started gathering their things and leaving while I stayed at the front of the class. I approached the teacher as he crammed papers into his briefcase.
“Mr. Capshaw, I don't quite understand my assignment.”
The teacher grinned. “Ms. Turner, you got the motorcycle club. I've been trying to get them to participate in this program for years—for some reason they said yes to me this time.”
“Are you punishing me for being late?”
“Punishing?” Mr. Capshaw said in shock. “I gave you the most interesting one. Would you rather have the Archery Club or the Poker Club?”
“Well, no,” I replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“I gave you this because I know you can handle it. You may be late all the time but you have potential, Ms. Turner.” The teacher snapped his briefcase shut and began walking out. “Just be careful, Charlotte, the Wheels of Ash are known to be dangerous.”
Dangerous?
I smiled. “Thank you Mr. Capshaw. I'll do my best.”
Chapter Two
Liam
My Harley-Davidson Dyna Super-Glide rumbled beneath me as I weaved in and out of traffic. On the road was where I belonged—a place where I could relax and truly be myself. The scenery zipped by me as I rode at a peaceful fifty-five miles per hour. I leaned to my right as the road curved around a mountain. The sun peeked through the clouds and the air was crisp—a perfect day for riding.
Two black-and-white police cars sat off in the dirt on the side of the road—a speed trap. Three cops sat against their hoods eating donuts. One of them had a radar gun pointed right at my bike. I quickly checked my speedometer and breathed a sigh of relief—I was two under the speed limit. I passed the officers and waved. One of them put his sunglasses on and jumped into his car, blasting the annoying siren.
Here we go...
Bullshit like this always happened in Lake Elsinore. Motorcycle clubs—specifically Wheels of Ash—were targeted constantly. It wasn't unusual for our club to be raided weekly by SWAT team. We had grown accustomed to getting flat on our stomachs with our hands behind our backs.
They never found anything. We weren't stupid enough to keep our guns or drugs at the club. But that didn't stop the police department from checking in on us. They were the good guys and we were the bad guys; some things never change.
I flicked my wrist and the Harley roared as it accelerated. The wind blasted through my shoulder-length hair and a grin stretched across my face. The police cruiser wasn't far behind.
I lived for this.
Even if they caught me, the only thing I had on me was a concealed weapon—my nine millimeter. Never leave home without it. I'd been caught on a weapons charge before but they couldn't make it stick. The county was looking for drugs—lots of drugs; something they could use to take down the entire MC.
I sped up, taking turns hard and fast. My bike swerved in and out of traffic, almost tapping cars as I passed by. The cop was having trouble following me. The two-lane highway didn't leave much room for passing. I looked behind me and raised my middle finger. I gained distance and when I made it around a corner, I quickly went off road and hid in some bushes.