Friday, January 6, 2017

Fiesta (Part 8)

     The decision was made to delay walking around the preserve until later in the afternoon, allowing more chapters to arrive and for Dago to take care of things.  Tents went up, coolers were loaded, those of us staying in motels took off and checked in.  Those staying in Santa Maria headed that way.  Angels from chapters which had already arrived, one or two at a time, would drift up to say hello and find out who we were.  It would seem we were a bit of a visual anomaly: between Roach's mohawk and Jane's blue hair, we were very fashion forward.

     These emissaries  didn't seem to notice Bekka.  They'd give her a glance, but probably dismissed from their minds the idea that Becky Page would be there, helping set up a tent or fueling a Coleman stove and gas lanterns.  Just some chick who looked like her.  We'd agreed Bekka would be introduced to people when we did our walk-through.  Jane was given a more careful examination: she'd re-spiked her hair (after having been trapped under a helmet all day) and was in her lucky blue leather bustier.  She looked more like a dominatrix than a biker babe, she only needed a whip coiled on her belt to complete the look.
     The folks staying in Santa Maria returned, and we began unloading firewood.  I asked Goose how it had gone, and he started chuckling.  "While the lady at the front desk didn't actually scream in terror when we walked in, she did seem rather disturbed by our presence.  I don't think she saw the colors until we turned to leave, but I'd guess any outlaw in the area is assumed to be H.A. this weekend.  We were on our best manners, asking her tourist-y questions about good restaurants and where the nearest gas station is.
     "The goofball at the hardware and lumber place asked us, 'So what are you doing with all this firewood?'  Uh, building a fire?  We're camping for three days.  Doobie made a crack about how we needed enough wood for at least three human sacrifices, which the guy seemed to take at face value.  Jesus.  John-Boy, Doobie and me all agreed we'd leave together in the mornings,, so there's less chance of some random citizen trying to fuck with us, you know?"
     The sound of Harley engines was nearly non-stop, as chapters kept arriving.  By four we were set up, with the lanterns hung up to illuminate the area, and a rather spiffy vinyl banner announcing "Hell's Angels - Dago" strung between two trees.  Mutt, smiling, announced it was time for the first beer of the weekend.  Cans were distributed and cracked open.  "And as per tradition, the first beer will be on Fucker," said Mutt.  Big Ugly grabbed Roach and held his arms behind his back, and all the Angels began pouring their beers on him, laughing.  Fatso explained to me it was a small ritual for the newest members to get this beer shower on the Labor Day run.  If there was more than one new member, there was great sport in chasing down the other new members, who would try to bolt when they saw what was happening.  Other chapters would help in running down a fleeing greenhorn, if the greenhorn was making good distance.  After Roach was soaked, Dawn walked up and began sucking on the sleeve of his t-shirt.  "Waste not, want not," she explained, giggling.  Tradition dictated Roach remain in his beer-soaked clothes until the next morning.  Roach was philosophical.  "Ah, it's only Budweiser," he said.   "I'd be bugged if it was Guinness, you know?"
     After having our first beers for real, we started doing our walk-around.  Most of the other chapters were still settling in, but would stop what they were doing to greet us en masse.  There was lots of howling and back-slapping, as old friends saw each other.  Terry, Jane, Bekka and I were introduced as good friends of the Dago chapter, "some righteous people."  It was made clear we weren't hang-arounds, people trying to pledge to the club.  And the girls were definitely NOT mamas, they were friends.  In fact you may already be familiar with this young lady....
     Bekka would step forward next to Mutt for introduction, me staying a step or two behind and also being introduced as her husband.  The reaction from the other chapters were a combination of gape-mouthed grins and utter amazement.  Holy fuckin' shit, Dago hangs around with Becky Page,and according to their prez, she is one righteous chick.  "How'd you end up hanging out with these guys?" would be asked.  Bekka would explain that Roach (Fucker) was a friend and co-worker, and had invited her and Lenny down to meet the club, just introducing one group of friends to another.  We had hit it off, enjoying each other's company, so she liked to go down to the Hi-Lo a couple times a week for a few drinks and some nine-ball.  Yes, she rode, but had taken her Falcon hot rod this weekend.  Of course she'd be happy to sign autographs....  But not right now, we'll take too long.  Yes, she'll be here all weekend.
     I sort of eavesdropped on conversations while the two chapters briefly socialized.  The Dago Angels were all explaining that yeah, they were blown away when Becky Page first showed up, in the company of that kid, their newest member.  No, she wasn't slumming, nor was she all ga-ga and fawning, either.  She was happy to meet us, she wasn't all freaked out.  Yeah, Becky and her husband and friends are fully righteous, really good people.  Oh, uh, that one chick in the Jack Daniels t-shirt?  That's Terry the Terror.  She's Becky's bodyguard.  They're also friends, though.  Terror goes with Becky whenever she goes out and her husband ain't around.  She is one tough bitch, we watched her drop a dude from Fresno in the middle of the bar one night.  Just threw the bastard halfway across the room, didn't even take the cigarette out of her mouth.
     That punk rock dude is her husband, Lenny.  He's cool, a righteous motherfucker.  He hired two of our guys to work as security at the porn studio he runs.  Generous bastard, too.  A few of us were sorta short on cash, so Lenny paid for their meal tickets at the chuck wagon this weekend.  Him and Becky are fuckin' loaded, and they'll help out people who are in dire straits, y'know?  They don't expect nothing back, either, it's like, 'Oh, I heard you're short on rent this month.  That sucks, here's $500, will that help?  No, this ain't a loan, just trying to lend a hand.'  Damn.  I never seen him in a brawl, but people say Lenny is a tough bastard, he's not afraid to throw down.
     Oh, the little blue-haired chick?  Yeah, that's Jane, she lives with Becky and Lenny.  She's a total hottie, but she's also underage.  She hangs out with Fucker and Fatso most of the time.  She rode up with us, she's on Becky's Sportster this weekend.  Look, but don't touch, okay?  Shit, her and Fatso will sit at the bar and talk about fuckin' literature all damn night.  She's a hottie, but really sharp, too.
     I stayed with Bekka while we socialized with the other chapters, and I noticed Terry would always be orbiting nearby.  Of course every Angel wanted to meet Becky Page.  She shook a lot of hands, but wasn't giving out hugs, and told them there would be plenty of time over the next three days to get an autograph.  My presence was greeted with guarded friendliness.  So, you're Becky's husband, huh?  Wild.  Uh, how does that work?  Y'know, with Becky doing what she does?  We gave our stock answer about the difference between sex and performance, and no, I didn't feel insecure with the situation.  Becky had making porn for as long as I'd known her.  Besides, I had lovers besides Becky, so it all worked out.
     We got to the amphitheater, where there were a lot of Angels milling about.  There was a stage set up, live music would be happening both nights.  A table had been set up to sell raffle tickets, grand prize, a 1990 soft tail, dead stock.  (It was up to the winner to figure out how to get it home, though.)  Everybody milled about, greeting old friends, giving bear hugs and back slaps.  Terry stuck a bit closer to Bekka and I.  Bekka wasn't introduced or announced, but an Angel from the Portland chapter stepped up and said, "Hey, if you ain't Becky Page, you're the spitting image, sister.  Who are you?"
     "You got it right," smiled Bekka.  "My stage name is Becky Page, this is my husband, Lenny Schneider, and this is our friend Terry.  We're here with the Dago chapter, they're good friends of ours."
     The Portland Angel's face split in an ear-to-ear grin.  He turned and grabbed the arms of two other Angels, saying, "Dudes!  Dudes!  Look who the fuck is here!  The Dago chapter brought fuckin' Becky Page with 'em!  Check it out!"
     The other two Angels took in Bekka with surprise and a bit of skepticism.  "No way....  Damn, you really are Becky Page, ain't you?" one of them said.
     "Live and in the flesh," Bekka responded.
     "Well, hot shit.  The hell are you doing here?"
     "I didn't see no limo pulling in," smirked the other one.
     "As I said, I'm here with Dago, they're friends.  Sorry, no limo, I drove up with my husband.  I do ride, but Dago wanted a few cars in our convoy, so I'm in my '64 Falcon.  Stop by where the Dago chapter's site, it's quite a vehicle.  Anyway, this is my husband Lenny and my friend Terry."
     "How ya doing?" I said, shaking hands.
     "Whassup?" said Terry, also shaking.
     One of the Portland Angels said, "So, are you hang-arounds?  Does Dago have woman members?"
     I answered, "No, we're simply good friends with the Dago chapter.  Their newest member, Fucker, works for me, and works with Becky.  He's what is known as a stunt-cock.  Fucker is a friend, and wanted to introduce us to his friends in Dago.  We hit it off, so we go to the bar a couple nights a week to hang out."
     "My skills at nine ball have greatly improved over the last several months," said Bekka. "Not to mention developing a taste for Jack Daniels."
     Terry threw in, "They also hired a couple guys from Dago to act as security at their studio.  Shit, they earn their fuckin' money, too.  One of our guys, Goose, got shot doing that gig.  He's healed up now, and the studio paid all his hospital bills, and even kept paying him while he was off work healing.  Yeah, Lenny and Becky are tight with Dago."
     "So who are you to Dago, little sister?" asked a Portland member of Terry.
     "I'm a friend, like these two.  Becky's a friend, and she hired me to sorta act as her personal guard.  Some of her fans can get kinda psycho, so I bounce motherfuckers who try to get too close to her or are acting creepy.  Most of the time, though, it's just me and Becky fuckin' hanging out all day, and they pay me to do it.  It feels a little weird, I make money by partying with Becky Page all day."
     "Yeah, and your money is earned," I pointed out.  "You are Becky's insurance, and you've seen a bit of action.  Nothing too heavy, thank God."
     "So you're  Becky Page's bodyguard, huh?" said another Angel.  "Come on, bodyguards for celebrities are fuckin' gorillas.  You're, what, five foot seven?"
     "Five six," grinned Terry.  "And I've handled the job just fine so far."
     Bekka said, "The Fresno chapter has a member who will remember Terry quite well.  He was down for a visit, and wanted to get fresh with me.  He had also discounted Terry for her size.  I doubt he'll make the same mistake again."
     "Oh yeah?"
     "Oh yes.  He was being rather crude, and ignored the both of us when we told him to go away.  Terry ended up having to put him on the floor.  Twice.  He finally got the hint.  I hope his ego has healed in the interim."
     Terry said, "When I'm with Becky, I also carry a fuckin' Colt, in case shit gets real heavy.  I ain't had to have it out yet, though.  I didn't bring it this weekend, that would have freaked people out, you know?"  (At Mutt's request, we had left our guns and holsters at home.  Us carrying them would have been seen as a sign of distrust and hostility by the other chapters.)  "But yeah, any dumb motherfucker who wants to get in Becky's face has to go through both me and Lenny.  And Becky is my fuckin' friend anyways, I ain't letting nothing happen to her, whether I'm getting paid or not."
     One of the Portland Angels said to Bekka, "So, you ain't afraid of getting attacked by a bunch of us dirty Hell's Angels, huh?  You ain't worried about getting rat-packed, with only your husband and this chick to protect you?"
     "And the entire Dago chapter protecting her, too," I averred.  "Nobody in Dago is gonna let anything happen to Becky.  Besides, with only a couple exceptions, every Hell's Angel I've met has been a gentleman around my wife.  You're a motorcycle club, not a Viking raid party.  I don't believe everything written about the Angels, I'm not worried."
     "Neither am I," said Bekka.  "I doubt the Angels in other chapters are much different than the boys in Dago."
     Terry added, "You can talk to the other fuckin' Dago Angels about Becky.  She ain't some fuckin' Hollywood bitch slumming, she ain't no nympho looking for some jollies, she's a friend.  Shit, we're around the bar all the time these days, it's all good."
     "I enjoy my Sportster," said Bekka.  "I enjoy nine ball, I enjoy Jack Daniels and beer, and I enjoy cracking jokes with people, and hanging out with people who live life on their own terms.  I get along with Hell's Angels just fine, we have more in common than one would suspect."
     "Oh yeah?  How so?"
     "I live how I live and do what I do for a living because I want to, and anyone who doesn't like it can fuck off.  No one will tell me what to do.  I'm sure you all have had strangers look at you in horror and loathing, just because you're Hell's Angels.  The world is full of people who hate Becky Page, I get the same looks....  And probably from the same people.  I am hated because of who I am, and what I do.  The Hell's Angels are viewed as criminals and rapists, wreaking mindless destruction for no reason.  Becky Page is out to corrupt the world.  She wants to destroy family values, turn every girl over the age of twelve in this country into a libertine, have people fucking in the streets.  At the very least, Becky Page wants to corrupt the men of the United States by seducing them all through the power of videotape.  The Hell's Angels will turn our children into drug addicts.  Becky Page will turn them into sexual compulsives, fucking each other at every opportunity.  I'm hated because of what people assume about me, like the Angels.  And like the Angels, I don't give a fuck."
     The Portland guys looked a little blown away by this speech.  One said, "Huh.  Never thought of it that way.  Yeah, I guess you would piss people off, just because of who you are and shit."
     I added, "It's compounded by what she says in her interviews.  Okay, not only does Becky Page make porno movies, she tells the world that she does so because she enjoys it.  Also, she is bisexual, a libertine, and is supportive of the tenets of polyamory.  And don't you dare call her a slut.  So middle America sees her videos and reads the magazine articles, and concludes that Becky Page would turn daily existence into one long series of sexual interactions, just indiscriminate sex happening all day and all night."
     "Shit, that don't sound like too bad a deal," laughed one of the Angels.
     "Except they're wrong," said Bekka.  "I detest people who sport-fuck, I believe they don't have souls.  What I do in front of a camera isn't sex, it's acting.  I believe that people should have at least a tenuous sort of connection with each other to have sex, more in common than just being horny.  You should recognize the other person as a human being, not just an object that you'll use to get off.  That's why I hate frat boys so much.  They'll get girls so drunk they pass out, then take turns fucking her.  That's just sick.  That's not sex, that's rape, and it's also just using another human body to masturbate, that's all.  How any of them can stand to look in the mirror is beyond me."
     One of the Angels stared at the ground and said, "Yeah....  Well....  People are pretty fuckin' good at hiding things from themselves, you know?  Everybody has shit we hate admitting to do, so we keep it sealed off from the rest of our brains."
     "Either that, or there's a whole lot more sociopaths in the world than we suspect, and they're all in college," I said.
     We wandered off to check a large board covered with information.  The chuck wagon hours, location of the first aid station, a list of bars and restaurants in the area....  And the phone numbers and addresses of a couple bail bond services, just in case.  Fair enough.  While I doubted too many Angels would want to dig up trouble, I could easily see a drunk local in a bar stirring up shit, if a few of the boys were there.  I'd been told that almost all the brawls the Angels got into with citizens were because some local tough guy (and maybe a few friends) wanted to test the mettle of them thar hoodlums on motorcycles, see if they were really as tough as they'd heard.  The Angels were...  Not to mention being more ruthless.  The Angels went into a fight with the goal of putting anything challenging them on the ground, sportsmanship and tactics be damned.  If you're in a fight with a Hell's Angel, and you're tired of being hit, stay on the floor the next time he lays you out.  This isn't a Western movie, the two of you aren't going to shake hands afterwards because the Angel thinks you're an asshole, so stay down until he's left.
     Jane and Fatso ambled up.  Jane said, "I'm kind of disappointed.  There aren't a lot of cute Hell's Angels, as near as I can tell."
     "And it wouldn't make much difference if there were, dear," I opined.  "We already warned you, you're not getting your freak on with anyone this weekend.  And no flirting."
     "That's just it, I don't want to flirt with anyone here!" Jane cried.  "Beards are a total turn-off for me, and the guys who don't have beards are all total gorilla-faces.  I'll have to content myself with scoping on surfer boys when we go to the beach.  Jeez, I can do that at home."
     Fatso said, "Jane, your libido will be sitting on the back burner this weekend.  And me, Fucker, and Lenny will be monitoring your trips to the kegs.  We don't want you deciding some Angel has appeal after all, now that you've had nine beers."
     "Girl, all these motherfuckers are gonna see you as some strange pussy anyway," said Terry.  "You're gonna be in a fuckin' shitload of trouble if you encourage 'em.  Okay, think about how Short Nick acts around you, and other chicks.  There's a whole lot of Short Nicks here, only they ain't little motherfuckers, and they ain't gonna want to hear you were just flirting for fun.  Give the fuckin' impression you want to slut it up, and they'll take things to what they see as a logical conclusion.  Get me?  Leave it out this weekend.  Trust me on this, I've seen some ugly shit happen to chicks who acted a little too friendly around scooter trash."
      I added my own two cents.  "At the party tonight, you're gonna be on a short leash, like we said.  If I don't have you in view, Roach will.  or Fatso will.  Talk motorcycles with people.  Tell them about your time in Europe....  And leave out your newfound nudism.  You're gonna have dudes hitting on you all damn night, you'll have plenty of attention.  But make it clear you're spoken for.  By the way, what was Lance's reaction when you told him where you were going this weekend?"
     "Oh boy," said Jane, rolling her eyes.  "Him and Vicky were totally horrified when I told them, and were disgusted that you and Bekka were bringing me.  I may as well have said, 'I'm going to try and set a new world's record for marathon gang rapes this weekend.'  We've been here, what, four hours?  Yeah, not more than one hour should have passed before I'd been stripped naked and tied to a Harley, and not let go until Monday afternoon."
     "Us Angels have so manners," chuckled Fatso.  "We'd give you meal breaks.  And you'd be allowed to smoke."
     "Thanks for the comforting words, Fatso," s aid Bekka.
     Word was getting out about the celebrity guest for the weekend.  There was a lot of nudging, pointing, and staring in our direction.  Some Angels did approach, with the conversation going pretty much the same every time.  Wow, you're Becky Page, huh?  We heard you're here with Dago, far out, hope you have fun this weekend, I want you to sign the tank of my putt, okay?  And uh, this is your husband?  Hey brother, you're one lucky bastard, haw haw!  It finally struck me, the attitude of the Angels was kind of what we dealt with when we went to the Pink Panther to drink: people were too cool to go all fanboy on Bekka.  The Dago Angels had of course been bragging about who they'd brought with them, but were apparently also giving other Angels some detail, telling them that Becky is one righteous chick, she's here with her husband, and naw, she ain't some Hollywood type slumming, she really is good people, hangs around with us and shoots nine ball all the time.  What she does is just a job, y'know?  She ain't a nympho or a slut, she's an actress.  Hell, a couple of our guys work for her studio.  Yeah, Becky and Lenny are good people.
     Around 5:30 the bell rang for the chuck wagon.  There were actually four of them, plus a barbecue pit.  Dinner that night was tri-tip, with beans and macaroni salad and steamed broccoli and rolls, plus sweet buns for dessert and coffee.  We ate well.  Feeding that many people is a hell of a job, and the Hell's Angels had contracted out the gig.  It was an outfit from the Bay Area who also did events like auto races and conventions, so they were used to cooking in volume.  I talked with one of the caterers, and asked him what he thought about working this little shindig.  He shrugged, "Doesn't bother me.  I figure we'll get left alone, 'cos nobody wants to delay their meals.  We clean up and go to our motels, we won't be here for the partying.  We will be back at four in the morning, though, starting breakfast.  I guarantee these guys won't be as big of a pain in the ass as the Shriners, too.  Yeah, these guys are gonna be pretty buzzed, and at all hours, but they won't act like little bitches, either."
     The bonfire was lit at eight, to a roaring whoop.  The start of the fire marked the commencement of serious partying.  Eight kegs sitting out, with more in reserve, and a line at each keg.  The area was alive with talk and shouts and laughter.  Jane had accepted her fate and simply tagged along with Bekka and I, which allowed Roach and Fatso to circulate more.  I'd brought plenty of dope with me, offering it to all the Dago Angels after dinner.  There would be plenty of drinking happening, and meth gives you an edge over other drinkers.  The Dago people wouldn't be nodding off any time soon.  I'd also brought a shitload of Ecstasy, but the consensus was that would be better Sunday night.
     Plenty of bottles were being passed around, along with joints and hash pipes.  Bekka and I had a bottle to share ourselves, I'd picked up some Johnnie Walker when we went to check into our motel.  The Angels we shared with were duly impressed I'd brought "the good shit."  Bekka, Jane, and I found ourselves passing the bottle around with a few dudes from the Phoenix chapter.  One of them expressed happiness that the run was not on the beach, as they'd assumed.  "We're in fuckin' Phoenix, we see enough sand already," he explained.  "I don't give a shit that here it's next to the goddamn ocean, it's still sand."
     People were more outgoing with Bekka now.  She was signing autographs and chatting, answering questions about the movies and her career in general.  "Succubus" seemed to be a big hit among Hell's Angels, everyone wanting to know if that was really her doing those stunts. She'd tell them to read the credits at the end of the movie, it was a woman named  Reina Crylos, a stunt woman with an uncanny resemblance to Becky Page.  "I can't lie, meeting her was almost creepy," said Bekka.  "She's an inch taller than me, and she wears her hair different, but the similarity is uncanny."  Bekka did make people happy when she told them she did a lot of her own driving, like Steve McQueen had.
     Terry wasn't acting like she was tethered to Bekka, but always seemed to be within twenty feet of us, socializing.  At one point she came up to us, smirking.   "I got three motherfuckers who wanna drag me on my putt, we just need to figure out where.  They think I'm full of shit when I told them how fast my putt is.  We'll put up a hundred bucks on the race, keep it interesting."
     Girls and women were also approaching us, wanting to meet Becky Page.  They seemed to be a bit more suspicious about Bekka's motivations for being at the run.  While everyone in the Dago chapter had been good about explaining that Becky Page was a good friend and not a thrill-seeking celebrity, the old ladies at the run were a bit put off by the presence of a certifiable sex goddess, a woman whose erotic prowess was a matter of public record.  They would be somewhat mollified by my presence.... But then again, I was they guy who wrote and produced all of Becky's movies, I was obviously used to strange men fucking my wife.  It was never spoken, but there seemed to be a concern that Becky Page was going to treat the run as a shopping spree for penises.
     One old lady said, "My old man has your posters up in our garage, and he loves that one movie, 'Succubus.'  Shit.  If an Angel from Reno comes up to you and starts acting like he's a twelve year old girl meeting Axl Rose, that'll be him.  Don't take this the wrong way, honey, but I hate you for your ass.  No girl over the age of sixteen should have an ass like yours."
     "Oh, that's my secret," demurred Bekka.  "Every year, I kidnap a high school girl and get an ass transplant, swapping mine for hers.  I'll be in real trouble when my tits start to sag more."
     A while later, a girl who could only be a mama flounced in front of us.  He had a pretty strong buzz.  "Hey, I wanna do what you do fer a living!" she announced.  "I blow the best pipe this side of the Rockies, an' I wanna be in porn."
     Bekka and I glanced at each other, and considered the girl in front of us.  About fifty pounds overweight, with small tits, a huge ass, and a gut.  Her face reminded me of a shar pei, and her makeup looked like it had been applied by an alcoholic drag queen.  They say no woman in the world is ugly when you've got your dick in her mouth, but this one might have defied that rule.  I asked, "What chapter are you with?"
     "Berdoo," she replied.  "I know LA is where all the porn is made, so I can get there easy enough.  So how much can I make?"
     Bekka answered truthfully, "It varies widely, depending on the studio and what you're doing in front of the cameras.  My studio pays $750 for straight suck and fuck, $1000 for anal, $1300 for a double penetration.  We're about average.  Some studios pay more, others less."
     "Hey, can I work for your studio, Becky?  I'll rock the cocks off all them guys!"
     Drawing in air, I replied, "We're in San Diego, not Los Angeles.  Would you be able to pass a blood test?"
     "You check for drugs?" the dog-girl asked, frowning.
     "No, we run a full STD panel, plus hepatitis A through C, and of course HIV/ AIDS.  We test weekly.  Test positive on anything, you don't work."
     "Aw, I got hep C, but it's, like, in remission and shit."
     Bekka sighed and said, "Uh, if you have hep C, you can transmit it, whether you're sick or not.  Please say any guys that have been fucking you were wearing condoms."
     Looking slightly confused, dog-girl said, "Well, yeah, but that's 'cos I don't wanna get knocked up again.  The Planned Parenthood doctor said I was at risk of becoming sterile after my fourth abortion.  I been on the pill, but I always forget to take them, or lose them."
     We received an interruption in the form of a Latino-looking Hell's Angel bouncing up and grabbing dog-girl around the waist.  "Yo, Hoover!  I need to get serviced, baby, let's go find someplace quiet."
   Dog-girl yelled, "Shit, Zorro!  I just blew you, like, two hours ago!  I swear, do all you spics have permanent hard-ons?  Ain't you out of cum yet?"
     "So I dry-fire, what difference does it make to you?" responded Zorro.  "Who the hell are these people...?"  He trailed off when he saw Bekka.  "Dios mio, you're Becky Page!   Damn, I heard you were here someplace!"
     "Live and in the flesh," Bekka replied.  "This is my husband, Lenny.  And how are you this evening?"
     "Pretty damn good," smiled Zorro.  "I got a hold of some good crank, and that shit always makes me horny as hell.  I'm glad Hoover is around, she can drain a watermelon with a straw."
     "They're gonna get me in porn!" Hoover barked at Zorro.
     "Oh no we're not," I muttered.
     Zorro rolled his eyes and said, "Gimme a break, bitch.  You are fat, you are ugly, you don't even know how to read.  It don't matter how good as sucking dick you are, the fuckin' people watching your movies can't actually feel what's happening.  You'd just be some ugly chick with a dick in her mouth.  C'mon, let's go."  He began tugging her away.
     "I'll talk to you later!" Hoover yelled at us.
     Bekka and I looked at each other and shook our heads.  Suddenly Bekka said, "Hey, where did Jane go?"
     I frowned.  "Dunno.  Maybe she went over to the kegs."
     We started walking that direction.  Sure enough, Jane was standing there with a recently-filled cup, talking to an Angel from the Oakland chapter.
     As we stepped up, the Angel was saying, "Yeah, you'll like being in East Bay.  UC Berkeley, huh?  Pretty ritzy.  But Berkeley's better than being in the City, fewer faggots.  Lotsa weirdos, though.  I swear, Berkeley takes pride in having an annual harvest of total nut cases, bumper crop every year.  You should hook up with the Oakland chapter when you get up there, we know how to party better than them little brats at UCB...."
     "Hey Jane," I grinned.  "Who's your new friend?"
     Jane gave me a slightly annoyed look and said, "Hey guys, this is Dwarf from Oakland.  Dwarf, this is Lenny and Bekka, I live with them.  I saw where Dwarf was from, and wanted to ask about rents in Berkeley and Oakland.  Maybe I wouldn't have to live in student housing, and I could bring the Cutlass...."
     "We talked about this," said Bekka.  "Your freshman year, you're in the dorms.  After that, we'll research off-campus housing.  But even then, having the Cutlass, or even the Sportster with you, would suck.  You know there's no parking around campus.  Whatever you brought would just sit all the time."
     Dwarf was glaring at us, as we were interrupting his opening moves to chat up Jane.  Then he realized Becky Page was one of the interlopers.  He went from annoyed to conflicted: okay, here's some fresh young pussy, but holy shit, Becky Page is now standing there.  The number one sex bomb in the world, a chick whose skill at fucking was documented for all the world to see.
      "Hello, Ms, Page!" Dwarf oozed.  "A pleasure to meet you!  I hope you enjoy yourself this weekend.  In fact, do you like to party?  I've got some awesome dope, we'll find someplace a bit more private and I'll chop you a line."
     "Why, that would be very gracious of you, Dwarf," Bekka said with her I-am-royalty smile.  "Shall I assume my husband is also invited?"
     "Your hus...."  Dwarf choked on his own spit briefly.
     "Yes, this gentleman here.  Dwarf, meet Lenny.  Lenny, Dwarf."
     We shook hands, both of us doing our best to crush bones in the other one's hand.  I'd gotten in practice at shaking hands like an outlaw being around the Dago chapter.  Dwarf said, "So, you're associated with the Dago chapter, huh?  How did this come about?"
     I replied, "I have a stunt-cock at my studio who was drafted by the Dago chapter.  He's a friend of ours, and after he was made a full member, invited us down to their bar, sort of a mixing of the tribes.  We hit it off with everyone, started spending more and more time at the bar or partying with the guys and stuff.  A couple Dago Angels are employees of mine, they do security at my studio.  We get along well with the club."
     Dwarf looked slightly confused.  "Uh, studio?"
     Bekka interjected, "I'm assuming you're familiar with my movies.  Lenny is the COO of Inana Productions, my studio.  He also writes and produces my features.  Yes, we needed security at the studio, to run off over-enthusiastic fans and stalkers.  The Angels seemed like a good fit for the job.  So what do you do?"
     "Um, I'm a longshoreman at the Oakland freight harbor," he said.  "So listen, you're sending Jane here to Berkeley for school, huh?  Hey, she should hook up with the Oakland chapter.  We'll keep an eye on her, you know?  I'll be happy to give her my personal attention."
     "Oh, I'm sure you will," said Bekka.  Her smile was developing a steely tinge to it.
     Dwarf was just opening his mouth to speak when suddenly a hand whacked him across the head, hard.  The hand was attached to an Angel a couple inches shorter than Dwarf, but who looked like he could out-fight a Sherman tank.  Patches on his denim announced he was Riley and he was the Sargent-At-Arms, presumably for Oakland.  He yelled, "Hey, fuck-dog!  You chasing teen pussy again?  The fuck is the matter with you?  Especially at your age.  This girl's with Dago, and she's off-limits, especially to fuck-dogs in their thirties --- whose fuckin' wives are with them -- like you.  Quit thinking with your dick for once, leave this chick alone."
     Dwarf looked at Riley with genuine fear in his eyes.  He didn't say a word, he just scurried off.  Riley gave the three of us a used car salesman's smile and said, "Evening.  I'm guessing you are Becky and Lenny.  I was introduced to Jane here earlier, she was with a Dago Angel I know named Fatso.  I apologize for Dwarf."  He paused and shook his head.  "Stupid asshole.  He's a total fuck-dog, lets his dick do all his thinking.  Shit, he's on parole for statutory rape right now.  Double packs his wife on a run, and still tries to chase pussy.  Dipshit."
     Jane said, "Well, he hadn't tried to hustle me yet, he was still working up to it.  I'd have shot him down anyways.  Even if I was single, I don't like beards on guys.  And he's too old anyway.  No, he hadn't started to bother me."
     "That dick-for-brains would have followed you around all fuckin' weekend," said Riley.  "Ought to be ashamed.  Shit, three years ago he somehow managed to hook up with some jailbait from Moraga, of all places.  She was goddamn fifteen, and she's sneaking out to meet that bastard.  He'd double-pack her around off and on, anytime he could ditch his wife.  We told him he was asking for trouble, she's too young and she's a rich bitch on top of it.  Of course, he got caught fucking her in her parents' house, and of course they called the cops on him.  Two years at Chino didn't teach him a fuckin' thing, I guess.
     "Listen little girl, keep your eyes peeled around some of these bastards.  Too many of 'em are gonna get a buzz on, see you, and think, 'Hey, fresh pussy.'  Stick with people from Dago, don't wander around alone, okay?  You'll get left alone that way.  G'nite, I gotta go keep an eye on some people."  Riley stomped off.
     "Okay girl, you got a whole lotta fuckin' people warning you to behave at this point," said Terry, startling me.  She'd' drifted up and I hadn't noticed.  "Stick with Lenny, or me, or Roach, or Fatso, or whoever.  But being unaccompanied is a bad idea.  Tell you what, hang with me for a while, we can have some girl talk and shit."
     "Okay," agreed Jane.  They began to drift off.  "Hey, let's go over to the bonfire, it's kinda chilly.  I gotta ask, have you always liked guys with beards?"
     "They sort of grow on you...."  Terry's voice became to faint.
     Bekka and I had just finished getting refills at the keg when Roach and Dawn bopped up.  "Hey Lenny, would you mind burning some dope with a few guys from Fresno?  I've been trying to explain your shit is practically pharmaceutical grade, no cranky taste at all."
     "They've got an RV we can hole up in for the duration," added Dawn.  "Is that cool?"
     "Yeah, that works," I said.  I could use a little refresher myself.  Lead on."
     We followed Roach and Dawn to where three Angels were standing by a tree.  When we approached, one of the Fresno Angels said, "As I live and breathe, my favorite lady thespian!  Becky, do you remember me?"
     Bekka took in the Angel and said, "Yes.  I signed your gas tank at the Hi-Lo one day.  A friend of yours had been getting crude with me, and my friend Terry got rid of him.  Is he around this weekend?"
      He is," grinned the Angel.  "He has heard the rumors of your presence here, too.  So is your friend, the one called Terror, around?  I'm not sure what his reaction will be if he sees her."
     "Yes she is here.  Unless he decides to ambush her somehow, I doubt Terry will be too worried about him.  She's put him on the ground before, she'll probably do it again, if it comes down to it."
     We followed the Fresno boys to their space and got in an old tour bus that had been converted into a motor home.  It was more luxurious than the Dago Winnebago, it had kind of a '70s "party van" feel to it.  It was the sort of vehicle you knew was the site of at least a half dozen unwanted pregnancies.
     I pulled out my pipe and dope, and considered.  I said to Bekka, "Hey hon, you got some glass on you?  There's seven of us, we'll have to keep loading a single pipe practically every time it goes around.  We'll keep two in circulation."
     Bekka dug through her purse and pulled out a pipe.  I loaded both while the Fresno Angels asked Bekka about what she was up to these days.  They all had eager smiles on their faces: oh wow, this is too cool, we're gonna get high with Becky fuckin' Page, so awesome.  I handed one of the pipes to Roach and said, "Here, melt that one in.  Let's see what these boys think of San Diego dope."
      The pipes began to circulate.  One of the Fresno Angels (a guy named Harpo, according to the patch on his denim) asked Bekka, "Hey, was that really you jumping from car to car in 'Succubus?'  That was too awesome."
     "That wasn't me," answered Bekka.  "I have a doppelganger, and am lucky enough she works stunts.  She also coordinated all the driving.  I did do some of my own driving though, basic stuff like power slides and burnouts.
     "This woman, her name is Reina Crylos, taught me a bit of stunt tricks.  During lunch, we'd go out in that Nova I was driving in the movie.  She showed me how to do a four wheel drift, a reverse 180, and a nearly perfect donut.  Considering what I have as a daily driver, I may as well know how to show off in it a bit, if I feel like it."
      "What do you drive?" asked another Fresno boy.
      "It's a 1964 Ford Falcon that's been rodded.  Amazing the performance you can get out of one of those 289 V8s.  It's got a Holley four-barrel, and a supercharger.  Activating the supercharger pushes you back in your seat, like a jet on takeoff.  The brakes and suspension have been reworked and the transmission re-geared, it's set up for road racing, not drag.  We've had it up to 145 and had more room to move, but we ran into traffic and had to shut down.  It's a nifty little beast, I love it."
     "Too awesome.  Did you do your own wrenching?"
     Bekka smiled and shook her head.  "It was a gift.  I used to have another '64 Falcon hot rod that my brother had built, but it was.... Um, I lost it in a fire.  A wealthy friend, a family friend, knew how much I loved that Falcon, and had this one built just for me.  It was a wonderful thing he did, I was like a ten year old girl actually getting the pony she'd always wanted.  He told me to use it as my regular car, not put it under glass, and I have.  It speaks volumes about the builder that I've had no problems with it, it's as reliable as a damn Toyota.  Between the Falcon and my Sportster, yeah, I like to go fast."
     "Did you ride or drive up?" Bekka was asked.
     "We drove.  We considered riding, but it would have felt like a pose, like Lenny and I were pretending to be something we weren't.  We're not H.A., we're not outlaws.  We're anarchists and pornographers, and we live how we please, but riding with Dago would have felt like we were trying to be pretenders.  Besides, we wanted to bring more stuff than we'd have been able to strap on our putts.  We drove the Falcon, come down in the morning and check it out."
      Dawn said, "Today was the longest I've been on a bike, by far.  I can't lie, my ass is sore."
      "You don't have an ass, Pint Size!" I laughed.  "Don't worry, you get used to it.  Soon all the nerves in your ass will be totally numb, you'll be fine."
      Bekka said, "Come on, Roach.  You should have been breaking her in, cruising up to Julian, or over Ortega Highway.  You two only ride locally, no wonder she's sore."
     "Yeah, my bad," shrugged Roach.  "I just never thought about it.  Long distance has never bothered me.  Like when we were out in Imperial County and I'd just gotten my putt.  I didn't think anything of riding back into San Diego and back on Sundays.  Haw, maybe it's genetic.  Dad was an outlaw, mom was his old lady, I inherited a naturally numb butt from them."
     Just then the door of the bus swung open and two chicks entered.  They looked surprised at our presence.  "The hell are you guys doing in here?" one of them asked.  They both seemed to have a good buzz going.
      "Burning some dope," said an Angel named Dopey.  "Wanna hit?  This is some fuckin' incredible shit, better than what we've been getting."
      The two girls didn't need convincing.  They stepped forward, accepting an offered pipe.  They each took a hit, then suddenly seemed to notice the presence of me, Bekka, Roach, and Dawn..  Roach was wearing colors, and Dawn was sitting on his lap, but Bekka's and my presence was an anomaly.  One of them looked at Bekka and said, "Hey, you're Becky Page.  We heard you were here this weekend."
     "Live and in the flesh," responded Bekka.
     They held the pipe back our direction, and were waved off.  "Shit, we're doing great," said one of the Fresno Angels.  "Take a few more puffs, that shit rips."
     One of the girls started taking another hit while the other said to Bekka, "I'm Laura, and this is Nico.  Shit, this is too wild, fuckin' Becky Page is sitting in our bus."
     Nico exhaled a cloud at the ceiling and said, "Yeah, our dudes are all hung up on you and shit."  She giggled.  "Actually, so are we."
      "Is that a fact?" said Bekka.
       Nico started taking another hit.  Laura said, "It's weird.  Watching your movies, I actually admitted to myself that I liked eating pussy.   I'd never eaten pussy before, but I'd thought about it, you know?  Then I saw, um, 'Dangerous Desires.'  You with that other chick was just so hot.  It was like, 'I totally want to do that with another chick.'  I guess everybody thinks about it, but I decided I actually wanted to try it."  Nico handed the pipe back to her.
      "Yeah, her and I went out drinking one night," said Nico.  "My old man was off somewhere, so we went back to my place.  I had some shit, so we railed up and started talking.  We turned on one of your movies, and one of your scenes with another chick came on.  Laura was all, 'Don't think this is too weird, but that is so fuckin' hot. to me.'  I was, like, whoa, I thought so too.  So uh, we tried it, you know?"
     The pipe went back to Nico, and Laura said, "Yeah, Nico called her old man and told him she was crashing at my place.  We just fooled around all night, trying shit out.  In the morning we decided we liked it and wanted to keep doing it.  We were both kinda worried about what our dudes would think, and we ended up saying, 'Fuck it, we'll have a harder time if we try to keep it a secret and get caught.  So we told our guys what was going on and how we felt.  We made it clear we weren't going to ditch them or turn into total dykes, but it was something me and her wanted to keep doing."
      Nico passed off the pipe and said, "We were worried they were gonna freak on us.  Shit, the first thing my old man said was, 'Can I watch sometime?'  Laura's old man at least showed some fuckin' concern for their relationship, he was worried Laura would throw him over for me, and we'd run off to Frisco or something.  She explained that naw, she wasn't going all dyke on him, it was just something her and me wanted to do together, she still loved him and shit.  Haw, then he asked if he could watch!"
     With a cunning grin, Bekka asked, "So, have you let them watch yet?"
     Both girls started giggling.  "Yeah," said Nico.  "It's like, okay, they want a show, we'll give 'em a fuckin' show.  They both sat on the sofa and watched while we did it on the floor of our place.  Holy shit, you'd have thought they were little kids actually seeing Santa emerging from the fireplace, they were so amazed.  But it was kinda weird, after we finished, my old man said, 'Whoa, I'm really turned on right now, but I don't wanna fuck with the vibe you two got going on, so I'll just spend a few minutes in the bathroom if you want.  I was like, fuck that baby, get over here and pull it out.  Both dudes got on the floor with us, and you can probably guess how things went from there."
      Laura said, "I remember thinking how sweet it was of him to say that, he knew what we did together was different than what we did with them.  Yeah, they've both been awesome about us getting together.  We made it clear we're not leaving them we're still their women, we just wanna have fun like that together.  I guess it's called....  Shit, you talk about it in interviews, uh....  Poly something...."
      "Polyamory?" suggested Bekka.
      "Yeah, that's it.  Fuck it, things are working out so far.  It's just totally normal at this point that our old men will go out and party a couple nights a week, and her and I can have some privacy and together time, you know?  It's no big thing, everybody's happy.  Shit has worked out real cool."
     "Actually, that's why we came here," grinned Nico.  "We figured we'd climb into that sleeping loft for a quickie.  It'd be one thing if someone from Fresno caught us, but if we tried to hide out somewhere in the bushes and got discovered, aw man, the shit could hit the fan real quick."
     "Actually, I could stand more beer," chuckled Roach.  "People, why don't we head for the kegs, and leave these young ladies in privacy?"  Him and Dawn stood up.  So did the rest of us.
     Nico stopped Roach.  "Hey, wait a minute.  You were in the movie 'Succubus,' weren't you?  You were the Lone Scavenger, right?"  Roach confirmed this.  Nico's eyes got huge.  "Holy fuckin' shit.  Dude, that thing is fuckin' huge.  Wow.  And wait a minute, this is your old lady?"
     "Yeah, this is Pint Size, the love of my life," Roach smiled.
     Laura's eyes got even wider than Nico's.  She said, "Oh my God....  You're a fuckin' tiny thing!  How do you and him even, uh....."
     "Often, well, and wonderfully," smirked Dawn.  "I'm a girl of many talents."
     "Oh my fuckin' God," averred Nico.  "Shit, if I was single, and I got together with a dude, and he pulled that thing out.....  Shit, I'd probably run like hell.  There is just no way...."  Her and Laura started giggling.
     As we headed for the door, Bekka was stopped by Laura.  She said, "Hey, uh, I hope this doesn't sound weird, but uh....  Thanks.  'Cos of you, I think me and her are happier people, you know?"
     Bekka grinned and hugged Laura, then Nico.  She said, "It's strange.  I keep on finding out how I make people happy, and in the most surprising ways.  I'm glad you two have each other, and have love in your lives.  You've been blessed, you have the love in your lives you want.  Not a lot of people can say that."
     We exited.  At my query, I asked one of the Fresno Angels if this was news to them.  "Naw, word got around about them after a while.  Shit, they ain't hurting nobody and their men are cool with it, so it's just treated as a total non-issue, okay?  I mean, if they were running around hitting on everybody's old ladies or something like that, there'd be trouble.  But it's their trip, and everyone who's involved is cool with it.  No biggie."
     We went back to the bonfire and kegs and partied until four in the morning, laughing and yelling and hollering at the sky.  Bekka, Terry, Jane, and myself had been watching our beer intake, mindful of the vulnerability of some of us: Bekka was a celebrity porn star, and Jane was a teenage hottie.  The night was incident-free, except for one Angel from Riverside who saw Jane walking past and launched himself at her.  The problem was, he was so drunk he couldn't stand.  He slobbered, "Hey, sweet baby!" and lurched off the empty keg he was sitting on, aiming for Jane.  She took a quick step to one side, and the Angel landed face down in the dirt.  She stared down at him while he tried to get up, but his limbs weren't cooperating, he just flopped there like a dying trout.  Smiling, his friends grabbed him and set him back on his keg, where he seemed to deflate, dead to the world.  Jane smiled at his friends and said, "I'm sure he's a sweet guy when he's sober.  Is he ever sober?"
     "Not if he can help it!" came the response, to much laughter.
     We headed to our motel and poured ourselves into our rooms.  Terry and Jane had been instructed to come to our room around 8:30 for a few pipe hits (a maximum of three for Jane, she was a lightweight), then back to the preserve for breakfast.  Bekka and I stripped down and got in bed.  "So, what do you think so far?" asked Bekka.
     "Everything I've heard about how hard Hell's Angels party seems to be true," I replied.  "At the same time, they aren't the animals the press would make them out to be.  You've been treated with respect all night, which is what I wanted.  Shit, you got more aggression directed at you by a couple old ladies, who were convinced you're here to steal as many attached Angels as possible, or something."
     "I guess the Dago chapter got word out about me well.  And God bless 'em for it.  We'll hook up with the chapter at breakfast, at least with those not too hung over to get that far.  Good night, babe."
     "Good night."

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