Biker Baby (BWWM)

Biker Baby | Chapter One

Lucy_Pearl Copyright © 2016

Chapter One

Isabelle Montgomery (Photo)

"Daddy!?"

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Mr. Jackson Montgomery is in fact, my father," Isabelle pulled out the copy of her birth certificate her mother left for her. She handed it to the bald man with the goatee, the one person that looked the least scary. Everyone around her was covered in tattoos and piercings; but this older man was dressed in jeans, a clean, pristine white shirt, jeans and a leather jacket. He looked like a Greaser she had read about in some book. She laughed to herself a bit.

Thanks to her mother, she knew her biological father was known to be a bit unorthodox; but she never thought the address her mother left her was going to lead her to a biker bar in the middle of Jean, Nevada. The man with the goatee opened the folded paper and looked down at it precariously. After a while, his eyes widened and he handed the paper back to Isabelle.

"I'll be right back," he said to no one in particular; still shocked by what he just read. He looked back down at the young girl who probably stood at about 5 feet 10 inches, give or take a few inches. She was tall and she had the blonde, light brown and dark brown hair mixed together, a bit like Jackson but curlier, and her skin was darker. Her mother must have been African American, the hair, the skin, not all of the physical attributes came from Jackson. He watched the girl a bit longer before making his decision and finally walked away.

"Watch her." he said over his shoulder. Immediately everyone turned to look at Isabelle, she felt a bit intimidated but stood up straighter. Not one to let people intimidate her, she knew that in order to get her papers signed she needed to be strong.

The heavy jean jacket she wore was making her sweat and she could feel the Nevada heat penetrate the dark denim. Her palms were clammy and she felt a bead of sweat roll down her spine. Maybe she should leave and never come back. She looked around the dark bar, it seemed like beer bottles covered every surface, and there were women everywhere. Some wearing clothes and some not wearing clothes, the latter not having a care in the world. There was a table full of women talking, they had their backs to her, but she knew they were older, way older than her. And they actually wore clothes that covered their bodies, along with leather jackets that had red skulls emblazoned on the back with a dagger through the left eye.

The bald man walked behind the red door about five minutes ago, and he still hasn't come back. Maybe he wasn't coming back out? Maybe he was talking to her father? Isabelle couldn't make up her mind about what he was doing back there. What if her father wasn't even here? What if he was dead, or someone killed him? Well, that's just about the same damn thing. But one just seemed worst than the other.

She panicked, she was only sixteen years old, if both her parents were gone then she'd be really out of luck and then she'd be in the Foster System. The foster system was not good to teenage girls, and she had no doubt these people don't want a kid running around with them. She started to worry and backed up towards the door she entered earlier. If the bald man doesn't walk through that door in two minutes, then she was going to run. She started to count to one hundred and twenty.

Twenty-four. Twenty-five.

The door still didn't move and she could literally feel the burst of adrenaline as she got to forty-seven. Hopefully, she could get out of here before any of them even noticed. And once she was out she'd take a bus to the East, maybe Utah or Colorado.

Seventy-six. Seventy-seven. Maybe she should count by two's?

She would definitely have to stay out of Texas and Oklahoma, too many bad memories there and anyone would notice her from a mile a way. She curled her fist into the sleeves of her jacket and shifted her back pack a bit on her shoulders. She looked at the door, it was clear for her to run through, twenty yards at the most, easy. She could be out of here in under thirty seconds.