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was right though. This wasn’t my first rally and I knew the easy bit wouldn’t last the night.
    Sure enough, the doors swung open and in walked a couple of guys who looked like they owned the place. My heart sank when I saw the patches all over their leather kuttes. The rest of the bikers in the club must have known too, because as they made a beeline through the place towards the bar, the crowd opened for them like Moses parting the Red Sea. Nobody wanted to be the unl ucky guy that was in their way.
    As they began to draw closer to the bar, I took a deep breath and put my best face on. It wasn’t until they were standing right at the bar that I got a good look at them. They were both tall and muscular, though the second of them was huge. He had the kind of size on him that would cause heads to turn at the mall or the county fair. Oddly enough, it was clear just from the way that they interacted that he was the subordinate of the two. The other was lean and tough looking as well , his tattooed arms corded with muscle, and he had a sort of swagger to him that made it clear why the other man, although bigger, appeared to be his inferior. Among the various patches on his kutte, there was one in particular that the other man didn’t have. VICE PRESIDENT.
    “You gonna admire these patches all night or are you gonna ask us if we want something to drink, sweetheart?”
    I furrowed my eyebrows. “I’m not your sweetheart. What can I get you?”
    He laughed, flashing a mouth full of straight white teeth that you wouldn’t expect on a hard living biker like that. He was certainly handsome, I had to give him that.
    “Looks like we’ve got a live one here, Sam,” he said, elbowing his partner playfully in the ribs. The elbow actually looked kind of painful from my point of view – it seemed as though every movement these guys made was so forceful – but his buddy barely even flinched.
    “Yeah, I’ll have a beer. One for my friend here too. And how about a shot for you? Your choice.”
    I smiled wryly as I fetched their two beers from the ice chest underneath the counter and cranked the tops off of them. “Nice try.”
    “What’s the matter? You don’t like bikers?”
    “Oh, I like them just fine. It’s the outlaw thing I’m not really digging. That’ll be six dollars.”
    “Hey, now. I don’t know what you’ve heard about our club… but that’s all it is. A club. Just a harmless group of motorcycle lovers that enjoy riding together. That’s discrimination you know. Just because we’ve got tattoos we’ve got to be criminals. Is that it?” He handed me a ten dollar bill.
    My face turned red. “What? No… I didn’t…”
    The big one named Sam was glancing over his shoulder now, and tapped his VP on the shoulder before I could finish stumbling over my words. “Hey, Johnny… that might be trouble.”
    He turned to see what his friend was talking about, and then turned back to me halfway, with his eye still on the door and said, “Keep the change.”
    Three men had just walked in, also sporting the patch covered kuttes of a motorcycle club, but their colors weren’t the same as the ones on the two men in front of me. Like had happened earlier when the first two entered, the crowds parted to let them go as they pleased. The three newcomers were especially mean looking too. Wild beards and greasy hair and macabre tattoos that went from the fingers tips all the way up the sides of their necks. The one named Sam met them halfway into the room, however, before they could reach the bar. With his back turned to me now, I could see the emblem on the back of his kutte – the skeleton eagle with its great bony wings outstretched. He was one of the Iron Disciples that I had seen riding in earlier.
    At first I was sort of relieved that he was stopping them there halfway, because I really didn’t feel like waiting on them. But then I realized what was going on, and I would much rather have just had to deal with