At last I feel presentable enough to start my day. I tiptoe for some unknown reason, to the door to my bedroom, open it and, after a breath to fortify myself, step out.
I expected a younger version of Grumbler, which in a way is what I got. I hadn’t expected him to be Black. Not that it mattered to me at all, Grumbler had vouched for him, but it was him who seemed a little uneasy, turning around fast as he heard my bedroom door shut.
“Ma’am. I’m Niran. Grumbler sent me. He asked me to watch out for you and your daughter in case anyone turned up.” He holds up his hands in a non-threatening manner.
I realise it’s not only me who’s uncomfortable about him being in my house, and it’s down to me to make him relax. I give him a warm smile. “The name’s Mary,” I say fast. “I know who you are. Grumbler warned me when he had to leave. It’s very kind of you to give up your time on a Sunday to stay here with us.” Suddenly I feel remiss for not emerging earlier. He’d just been hanging around without anything to do. “I’m just about to get some breakfast on, can I get some for you too?”
“I helped myself to coffee.”
“That’s alright. I won’t call the cops.” My delivery is so dry, it takes him a moment.
His eyes snap to mine, then when he sees my laughter lines softening my face, he chuckles. “Well, I hoped it wouldn’t be a capital offence.”
“I’m sorry.” I grimace. “I should have come out earlier.”
“You knew there was a strange man in your house.” He understands immediately. “Ma’am, Mary, you’re Grumbler’s friend, and hence, one of mine. And if the offer’s still open, me having admitted to my crime,” he winks, “I’d love some breakfast.”
“Have you been friends with Grumbler a long time?” I call over my shoulder as I round the countertop and then bend to open the fridge. I take out bacon and eggs, then, thinking about the size of the man who’s going to be eating, look again and add ham.
“Three years now since I joined the MC. Of course, I was just a prospect for the first twelve months, so didn’t have a lot to do with the members then, except jump at every order barked at me.” His easy grin shows he didn’t mind. “’Bout the closest I got to Grumbler was when I had to clean his bike. He used to stand over me, pointing out specks of dirt I couldn’t even find.”
I chuckle, that sounds like Grumbler. “He sure does like his bike.”
Niran snorts. “We call it his ol’ lady, ‘cause he’s never had one of the flesh and blood kind. Swear if he could, he’d take that motorcycle to bed with him.”
“Carry on.” I stand, placing the food on the countertop. I waggle my hands. “Spill all Grumbler’s kinky shit.”
“Kinky?”
“Like wanting to sleep with his bike.” I wink at him.
Niran barks another laugh, putting up his hand to smother it. “You’re a feisty one. Grumbler’s going to have his hands full with you. Or is it hands full of you? I’m sure he’d prefer that to his bike.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
I blush red. “We’re just friends.”
Niran gives me a strange look. He waits for a moment while I get things cooking on the stove. “You asked how long I’ve known Grumbler?” He props his butt on a stool and leans his arms on the countertop. “As a prospect, I had great respect for the man, for all of the members. Part of the initiation process is giving them that, no matter the shit task they give to test you.”
“So you have to do everything they say?” My brow creases.
“Sure. You have to prove trust and loyalty.” Niran waits for a beat while I digest that. “Grumbler’s the sergeant-at-arms. He was voted in as an officer just before I joined. At first, I thought he was the way he was to prove he should have that role. Then I realised, behaving like a sergeant major, rallying the troops was just the way he is. He doesn’t have patience for anyone doing anything half-hearted, and he didn’t earn his road name for nothing.”
Grumbler? Sure, I’d wondered whether there was more of a story behind his name than the headline he’d told me. Thinking back, he’d been anything but grumpy with me and he’d shown no impatience with Alicia.
But Niran hasn’t finished. “You know he laid his bike down a while back?”
“You mean his crash?”
“Yeah. He smashed his leg up pretty bad. Thought for a while he might end up copying me.” At my quizzical gaze, Niran stands, walks around the counter and pulls up the leg of his jeans, revealing a prosthetic to me.
“Oh.” It’s inadequate. But what do I do? Express sympathy? I’d never have guessed if he hadn’t shown me.
“Fuckin’ accident ended my military career. I didn’t even fuckin’ get it during one of my tours. It happened stateside when I was home on leave.” His eyes roll in a would you believe it fashion.
“You came off your bike too?” I always knew they were dangerous.
“Nope. Sure I was on my bike, but a fuckin’ woman knocked me off it, then managed to drive over my leg to make sure she did a proper job.” Niran gives a little shake of his head, showing he’ll accept no commiseration. What’s done is done. “Grumbler was luckier than me. At least he’s still got his flesh and blood one, though he might have just as much metal as a prosthetic.” He chuckles, softly. “Point I’m getting to is, for a while he was laid up. I offered to help him out. Maybe I was sympathetic when it was suggested he’d lose his leg, maybe it’s my service that led me to step up, but when Grumbler agreed and started passing off
