Page 1 of Maximus

One

Gia

Run, run as fast as you can!

That was the singsongy mantra that played in my head as I made my escape from my evil stepfather’s lair. He and his goons had me locked up in my bedroom without any food or water. When I noticed the loose rope on the bedframe, I realized it was time for me to enact my carefully thought-out escape plan. Bruce had never been careless enough to leave my restraints untethered in the six weeks I had been his prisoner.

I could hear the snores resonating from the room down the hall. It was now or never. I wasn’t taking any chances. After loosening the ropes enough to free my limbs, I snagged my backpack that I kept hidden under my bed and crept out down the hall. Fear rolled down my back as I made my way to the front door. There was no other way out of this domicile of the damned.

The bear snoring in the chair was only a few steps from the door, but I forced myself to keep going. As long as he kept sawing wood, I would be fine. If the house got quiet, then I knew I was in trouble. Chances were, he would be knocked out until late in the afternoon. Plenty of time for me to escape.

As my feet tapped out a cadence across the finely manicured lawn, I smiled. I couldn’t help it. The fact that I was able to destroy just a little bit of the one thing Bruce valued more than anything on this earth made me giddy. I can’t tell you the countless number of beatings my poor body has had to endure because I made the mistake of walking on “his” precious grass. What a goober! He didn’t even own the house. It was my granny’s.

I froze as the motion sensor light clicked on.Uh-oh! I had forgotten about that. It was too late to go back now. If he woke up, he would have to chase me because I would never go back willingly. After a few seconds of holding my breath, I realized the bright light hadn’t awakened him, so I continued on my journey to freedom.

All I had to do was make it off the street that housed my childhood home, and I was in the clear. Three blocks north was a police annex, and five blocks west was a fire station. There were safe places for me to hide as long as none of Bruce’s drinking buddies saw me. I was sure they would be passed out too at this time of night.

It was unlikely that any of them could see straight. After drinking like college kids on spring break earlier that night, they would be lucky to still be breathing. I knew for sure their best buddy Jack would be the cause of many hangovers. Experience had taught me that if any of them did see me, they wouldn’t be able to comprehend what I was doing, let alone capture me. Father time and the excessive use of alcohol over the years had made them slow, stupid, and uncoordinated. A slight wind would have them blowing over like an inflatable tube man.

My legs burned as I did my best Allyson Felix impression. My lungs were cursing me for not exercising them more often. The cold pre-dawn air filtered inside my windpipes, causing a pain I hadn’t felt since high school when I was forced to run in a cold gym during basketball practice.

Keep going, Gia. If you want to live, you will pump those arms and will your legs to move faster. Come on, girl, you can do this!

I had to pump myself up so my body would ignore the pain. After being locked in my room for weeks, I was stiff and sore, but I couldn’t stop now. I was almost there. I could see the corner store where my neighbors purchased their alcohol. The store owner was their friend. It was so early in the morning no one would be in the store. There wasn’t any way Mr. Floyd would witness me passing by. They didn’t have a camera, so I would be in the clear if Bruce came looking for me.

The song,Eye of the Tiger,was playing in my head as I flew past the store and into freedom. A feeling of relief overcame me as I made a right turn down Best Avenue, headed to my sanctuary. The Sinners’ clubhouse was a little over a mile away on Foothill Boulevard. That clubhouse was like the U.S. Embassy to me. Once I made it behind those gates, nothing could touch me. The patch I held in my hand was my passport to freedom.

It took thirty minutes for me to arrive at my destination. The entourage of motorcycles parked outside the building was intimidating, to say the least. It was as if the Harleys formed an impenetrable iron gate of protection around the clubhouse. I imagined a pole with a mounted neon sign flashing the words “Enter at your own peril”. A few men and women mingled outside on the sidewalk, laughing and drinking. A few were smoking something a little more potent than tobacco. It was giving very much skunk.

After waiting a few minutes for the crowd to die down, I realized those bikers were not going anywhere anytime soon. Taking a deep breath, I put on my big girl drawers and approached the building. As you can imagine, my presence caused quite a stir. I was disheveled, and my hair was standing all over my head like Medusa. I strolled over to the group, trying to calm my nerves as I went.

You got this, girl. They won’t hurt you. Remember what Papa said. They are your family, just like he was. These people may look scary, but they will protect you with their lives.

I stood next to a man who was shorter than my 5’10” frame. I figured he would be the most reasonable since he didn’t have any women hanging all over him. His black eyes peeked out from behind the tresses of his mohawk cut. They perused my body like he was trying to decide whether or not to peel my skin off.

Tugging at my wife beater, I tried my best to make it appear loose on my body, but there was no use. I had been sweating, and the moisture made the material cling to my breasts. Looking down, I realized you could see through the shirt as it was white.Oops! The last thing I wanted to do was entice these outlaws. The joggers I was wearing were thankfully too big on my slim frame and fell low on my hips.

“Excuse me, sir.”

The crowd chuckled at my calling the man sir. They could laugh all they wanted, but in my world, it was a sign of respect. My papa would roll over in his grave if I showed his people any sort of unwarranted disrespect. Peering at the patch on the front of the man’s cut, I discovered his name was Lucky. If he preferred, I would call him by his road name, but only after being given permission.

“Well, hey there sweet thing. What can ole Lucky do for you?”

Great, he thought I was coming on to him. How clueless was this guy?

“I need to see your president, please, and thank you.”

My good manners jumped out of my mouth once again. I knew I sounded like a nerd, but I couldn’t help it. It was my nature to be polite. You know, you catch more flies with honey and all that. I smiled at the man but tried my best not to show too many teeth. I definitely did not want to have Lucky thinking he was going to get lucky with me.

“Say what now? You have got to be kidding me. Darlin’, nobody just walks up to our front door and asks for a meet n greet with the Prez. I think you need to be on your way,” Lucky tried to dismiss me.

“I think he’ll want to see me. Can you get him please?”

I flashed him the patch my father had left for me when he passed away. His lawyer had given it to me along with the deed to my granny’s house and a very sizeable trust that no one had access to but the lawyer. The look on Lucky’s face told me he recognized the skull wearing a crown with jewels hanging from it. It was the club’s logo, and only members and their families had access to the badges.

“Where did you get that?”

“My dad left it for me when he died, with instructions to come here if I found myself in trouble. Well, I’m here, and I need to see the president, please.”