Lizzy Radovich and her cousin Fannie Puzon drove along a pine-tree lined road. Night had already fallen, and Lizzy was certain Fannie had gotten them lost again. Her cousin was fun, but somehow that always seemed to come with a price. Trouble, is what her parents would call Fannie. Instead of dwelling on the negative she decided to manifest positivity; Lizzy clicked the dome light on and checked the giant fold-out map again. 

“You said its near Spanaway Lake, didn’t you?”

“Yes, for like the sixteenth time,” Fannie caustically responded. She loved messing with Lizzy, it was much of the reason she invited her along so often. And, well, she would be most likely to bail her out if needed.

“With that attitude I might have to change my mind.”

“Well, let’s hope the new one works better,” Fannie giggled as she slapped the map from Lizzy’s newly manicured hands.

“You little bitch!” Lizzy laughed. “Oh shit, turn here - it’s the street."

From the outside, it appeared to be an ordinary house. A long rambler with a wooden deck in the back and Christmas lights strung along a cedar fence. Choppers, muscle cars and one misplaced beat-up Dodge Aries lined the road along the front. They pulled up along the others, got out of the car and grabbed the beer from the trunk. Sounds of a live band could be heard from inside the residence. Lizzie was dressed in a black dress, black stilettos and showing off an ample amount of leg. Fannie wore a black leather jacket and a provocatively ripped Dokken top beneath. A brown and black striped cat greeted them at the door with an airy hiss.

“This is definitely the place,” Lizzy stated, “you sure we can get shrooms here?”

“That and more, my little radish.”

“Don’t call me that, I hate that.” Fannie had been calling little-miss-priss Elizabeth Radovich that affectionate nickname since before 3rd grade. Lizzy hated radishes since then.

Inside the house, the smell of sweat, motor oil, cigarettes and skunky marijuana permeated the air. Lizzy curled her nose and tried to adjust to the foul odor. The party was packed, full of leather, bikers and decadence. It was loud with shouting, laughing and classic rock from the band. One could not move without bumping into a greasy, hairy biker. The dining room table had a sizable Budweiser mirror with lines of cocaine ready for consumption. Joints were making their way through the crowd like tiny locomotives delivering good times. One found their way to Fannie and her cousin. They each took a long drag and sent the roach back out to the world.

Lizzy coughed harshly and took a swig of her beer to ease the scratchiness. 

“Good shit, right?” Fannie yelled over the music. “Hey, I gotta piss. Come with me.” Fannie grabbed Lizzy by her hand and navigated their way through the dancing and drugs. Fannie dropped her cutoff jeans and sat on the toilet. The floor was littered with dirty clothes, razor blades and pine needles. The walls were infected with splotches of black and yellow mold. It smelled faintly of vomit.

“Jesus, Fannie did you not even look at the seat first?”

Fannie sprouted a lazy smile, already feeling the effects of the ganja. “What can I say, I like it a little risky.”

“A little dirty. Don’t be disgusting. What if there was shit on there?”

“Oh my god, don’t be so motherly. Relax.” Fannie finished off her beer and tossed it with the others partying in the bathtub.

Lizzy took a breath and continued, “Ok - so, just like we agreed. We’re here to have a good time, party and we do not go home with anybody, right? We stick together no matter what.” Lizzy had put an emphasis on, “do not,” that made Fannie close one eye and make a sour face. The tight pucker made Lizzy think her mouth looked like a cat’s ass.

“And score some magic mushrooms.”

“That’s right. So deal?”

“Deal,” Fannie said as she wiped herself then flushed. The look on Liz’s face was plain, bored and unenthused. Not the typical good-time Lizzy who loved a house party. “Hey, you gonna be alright though?” Fannie asked while washing her hands. Liz had lost her grandfather several weeks ago. The viewing and following funeral was set for the upcoming Sunday. The day that he died, Liz had shared something that didn’t make a lot of sense. Liz phoned Fannie up that afternoon and confessed a strange dream she had… She had dreamt that her grandfather Sofus, who lived in Chattanooga, TN, had paid her a visit. But not in the ordinary, flew-in or drove-across-the-states kind of visit. He had come to visit behind a curtain of moving light. Intensely bright, Liz had to shade her eyes in her dream to make out any features. But it was his voice that she recognized. His burly, country twang and omittance of the g from every ing-word. 

“Liz, I’m fixin’ to go and I came to say goodbyes.” His words were like frail whiskers, but Liz could understand him clearly. She wanted to ask him where? When you coming back? Who are you going with? But no words were able to come out. Her mouth was clamped shut tighter than an iron jaw. It was then she realized she couldn’t move at all. Like all the  muscles in her body were contracting at once. She was like stone, frozen in time. Instead she sent a thought:

“I love you.”

He responded right away, “…To the moon and back.” It’s what he said to her whenever she made the sentiment.

Liz awoke with her cheeks wet from a tear. She went downstairs to tell her parents, but before she could they told her grandpa was dead. Their words washed over her like a cold blanket of wind, and for a moment - it didn’t even feel like she was there. Unreal and artificial, like it was something she watched in a soap opera.

Liz responded to Fannie, “Yeah, I’ll be alright. This is what he would want, y’know? He would say, don’t let that goddamned horse kick you down Lizzy-girl. You get right back up on there and teach it some manners.” The memory lended a small smile to her face. “Its hot in here, let’s go outside and check out the action there.”

Outside, the party was calmer, quieter. A stark difference from inside, a haven. There were metal chairs and splintered tables, all of them occupied. The sounds of clay chips and shuffling cards from an outside poker game added to the music from inside. Fannie and Lizzy stood together beneath the overhang away from the party-goers as Fannie checked herself with her Wet ’N Wild compact. That was when Lizzy saw him come out from the side of the yard. The man was tall. She estimated 6’9”. His biker boots jangled with each step from the chrome Jolly Roger skull and crossbones adornments. His Levi’s were black and held together by an obscenely large bronze belt buckle. Lined by a motorcycle chain and in the center a diamond shape with “1%” engraved within. A red and yellow bandana wrapped about his forehead, and the crows feet below his azure eyes were deeply embedded. There was almost a crazy look in his eyes: violence, drugs, confidence. His beard was long, red and ended in several Viking-esque braids. Lizzy could have sworn he stepped out from a cloud of blue smoke, like a rock n’ roll Grizzly Adams with a chopper. 

Their eyes met. The stare held her, until a coy, schoolgirl-like feeling made her blush and look away.

Lizzy nudged her cousin. “Hey, who’s that guy?”

Fannie looked up from her compact as she applied her hot-pink lip gloss. “Him? That’s Ralph, but I wouldn’t ever call him that if I were you.”

“So what do I call him?”

With a snap, she shut the compact and responded. “They call him Six Pack.”  

“Six Pack? Because of the beer or the abs?”

Fannie responded with a wry smile, “Both - from what I’ve heard. Why you asking?”

“No reason.” Her response was quiet, demure. 

Fannie looked over both her shoulders to make sure no one was close enough to hear, “Don’t get any bright ideas, Edison. Kind of known as a guy you don’t fuck with. You know about Scotty Tapeworm Condos, right? Yeah, that broken arm of his wasn’t because he wrecked his Camaro. Sure that’s what people are saying, but the real story is that was Six’s handy work. Fucked his car all up too. That’s not all. I’ve heard all kinds of things about him, he’s one of the leaders of this chapter.”

“Of the Ban…”

“Don’t say it.” Fannie interrupted.

Lizzy smoothed her dress down and pulled a cigarette from her clutch. “Yeah, besides a guy like that and a girl like me… Prolly wouldn’t work out, huh?”

Fannie laughed, “You and your prissy ass? Hell no it would be like bathtubs and blenders.” Lizzy was too much of a kind-hearted girl. Someone who always did the right thing, sure she partied - but when it came down to it she would give her last dollar to a bum for him to get a Rainier. “Anyway, I think that you could totally do better.”

With their conversation, neither of them noticed that he approached them. In a moment, he was there. Even taller, and more muscular close up. Nearly a giant from Greek mythology. His jacket was armor, his chain from his wallet, a medieval weapon. Lizzy imagined he was probably packing more than that. But she was cool, she kept her smile to herself. “Need a light?” Six Pack asked, flipping open a Zippo before she even answered.

Lizzy looked up at him with her large, almond eyes as he put flame to the cigarette. “Thanks.” The smell of the propane, motor oil and whatever cologne he was wearing was like a shiny trinket to a crow. She wondered, unexpectedly, what his nest was like.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m who they call Six Pack.” His voice was guttural, immense and undeniably attractive to Lizzy. “I don’t believe I’ve meet you ladies before.” The way his crazed eyes stared at her was practically through her. It made her feel ethereal, and beautiful. He wasn’t one of the shifty, nervous guys who could barely approach and form a decent sentence. 

“I’m Fannie, and this is Lizzy. We’re cousins.”

“Pleasure.” Six Pack held out his hand. His fingers were lined with an assortment of rings, one of a skull with a snake, another that was a middle finger extended, and another that looked like an engine block. All sizable, masculine.

They each shook his hands. Fannie flirted first. “Oh my god, are those real diamonds in the eyes of your ring?” She was smiling a little harder than Lizzy would’ve liked.

“That’s right, Little Dock.”

Fannie giggled and looked away for a moment before going back to his eyes, “Dock?” Lizzy knew that was one of her cute little moves that somehow worked magic with guys.

“Yeah,” Six Pack stated as he pointed at her shirt. She looked down and he pulled his finger upwards to tip her nose. “Good taste in music. I saw the Crue play down in L.A. Pretty sure Dokken opened for them.” 

Lizzy decided it was time to make sure Fannie didn’t get all the flirting in. “You get out to L.A. often? Sounds like a fun road trip.”

“From time to time. Mostly business, but I suppose we could make an exception and go for pleasure, if you think you can hang.” Six Pack said with a smirk. It was boyish, with his head slightly tilted - and it made Lizzy feel like she was about to melt. Six Pack wasn’t what she thought he would be - a mean, disgusting, cruel creature hell-bent on destroying everything in his path. Instead, he was polite, well-spoken, gentlemanly - and with his own opinion. Not catering and hanging on to their every statement. It was though he didn’t care, but still interested and it was exactly what Lizzy missed from the various men throwing themselves at her in her life. 

“Oh if I can hang? I guess you don’t know me then do you?”

“Well, if I had to guess. I would say that you enjoy nice walks on the beach, black cherry wine coolers and exciting day trips to the museum of Historic Colonial Quilts.” There was that charming-ass smirk again, this time just a little larger.

Lizzy smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to be an asshole?”

Six Pack leaned a shoulder over and bumped her. “Guess I’ll have to get to know you a little better then, huh?”

She opened her clutch, pulled out her lipstick and a napkin. She wrote her phone number on it and put it in his jacket pocket. “Call me later, if you can hang.”

Next Chapter: Dummy