C U S T O D Y
CHAPTER ONE
“Look at the pain in those gorgeous, brown eyes. Who
is he, BiBi? Do ya know him?” I couldn’t help but notice
the little cutie sittin’ at the end of the old, scarred,
pine bar.
BiBi and I had a “date” every Thursday evenin’, no
matter what. We’d meet at “The Cub”, a ‘mostly quiet’
biker bar in Rancho Cucamonga, California. We’d make
plans for the upcomin’ weekend, which we, more often
than not, would see through. We’d kickback, enjoy our-
selves and visit with a few friends.
It was usually a’coupla’ beers for BiBi, pepsi for
me and a scoot somewhere, anywhere, ‘round town. Betty
Beck and I met on “Motorcycle Toy Run” which started
at “The Hole in the Wall” ‘bout a year ago. When we
pulled off the freeway for a break, Bi and I got to talk-
in’. It didn’t take too long ‘fore we had a bond be-
tween us. She was as quick as a pistol and funny,
man that girl has a sense of humor.
Well, she turned out to be ‘bout the best friend
a bod’ could ask for, and I’m proud to call her ‘friend’.
Damn smart lady too.
Workin’ as a Medical Lab Tech for goin’ on six
years now. From New York. Single, twenty-five years old.
She was makin’ her way just fine.
She’s a looker even though she’s a short ‘lil
shit ‘bout five foot tall. I ain’t got too much room to
talk. I’ve got her by four and a half inches and
a’coupla’ years.
Where my hair’s dishwater blonde, midway down my
back, hers is a sleak, beautiful, chestnut color. Which
swishes a’coupla’ inches past her little, bitty hinney.
Her big, soft, brown eyes, like Hershey’s Kisses. She’s
so full of life, spunky and mischievousness, ya gotta’
love her.
This girl plowed into my heart, like a guy sweepin’
me off my feet. I fell for her straight-forwardness,
along with her funny little quirks.
She found in me a friend she could trust. Not to
mention I ride my own Harley and was damn good at remem-
berin’ peoples names.
Yep we hit it off. This last year as her best
bud’s been about the most fun I’ve had in livin’. Here
we are, sittin’ ‘round, havin’ a few, makin’ our plans
for the day and I noticed ‘ol sad eyes, sittin’, havin’
a few his'self.
We got interrupted by a bunch of our friends, comin’
into “The Cub” ‘bout the time I’d asked BiBi, took
the first two letters of her names and made her a nick-
name. I’m good at nick-names. After “hellos” and “what's
happenin’?” were takin’ care of, BiBi finally laid eyes
on the guy I was talkin’ ‘bout, to answer my question.
“Yes. I know him. Name’s Chance Walker. Wisconsin
native. Got married and moved here to Rialto about four
years ago. Never believe a nice guy like that’d get mix-
ed up with that wench, either. They call him “Little
Jesus”.
“He’s about five feet four, about 150 pounds, I’d
guess. That long, reddish-blond hair of his, with those
deep, dark brown eyes, makes him look a little like what
most perceive Jesus to look like. But that isn’t the only
reason he got the handle. He’s too nice for his own good.
Someone stick a knife in his back, he’d most likely
pull it out, clean it off, saying, “Sorry, I made you do
that. Don’t worry about it. No harm done. Here’s your
knife,” and give it right back to the backstabber.
“Works for United Steele Construction in L. A. See
the t-shirt,” noddin’ my way, seein’ if I was keepin’ up.
Bi went on tellin’ me what she knew ‘bout ‘Little Jesus’.
“Think he’s a carpenter. Fits you know. The name.
‘Little Jesus’… carpenter. Anyway you’d never believe
who wears his ring.” Takin’ a breather from her story
tellin’, she pulled a Salem 100 from the worn, black,
leather pouch. Lightin’ it, looked me square in the eyes.
Just by her hesitation I could tell I wasn’t goin’ to
like what I was ‘bout to hear ‘bout Chance Walker.
Before she was ready to finish tellin’ me who he was mar-
ried too, she switched gears and left me hangin’ a bit.
“You interested in meeting up with him? You’d be
good for him, Sandy.” I couldn’t fool her. Wouldn’t
even try. She could read me like a book, just as I could
her. “Yep”, I answered, grinnin’. “I’m interested. But
he’s married?” Bi giggled. Well, they are separated, and
you noticed his pain, or you wouldn’t have been wanting
to know about him. You sure have a way of finding the
guys that need some tender loving care lady.”
“Cut to the chase woman. I want to know who put
the pain in those eyes”. I shoved her arm a bit and we
both had a giggle. “That’s you. “Florence Nightingale”.
ha.” She always had to have the last word in a tif.
“Okay. Okay. Well you know the damn wench that
tends to bar at “The Hole?” Her ornery eyes bore right
into mine wantin’ to see my first reaction. She got a
good one. “Don’t tell me that sweet lookin’, little hunk
is hooked up with her?”
All BiBi did was shake her head ‘yes’, at my baffl-
ed expression. She just kept on shakin’ her pretty lit-
tle head at me. It took me awhile before I actually
believed her. She’d never lied to me. I found it really
hard to stomach.
Fact was I had a knot in my gut and understood,
pretty much, why Chance was lookin’ the way he was. Good
God. Poor guy. I hurt all over for him, not just my gut.
“NotRoseanne?” It came out like a choked whisper.
“Yes. You guessed it right. The guy she’d made her
way to Sturgis with left her in Wisconsin. They must
have used her as much as they wanted and got tired of
her. Or maybe she got caught trying to rip them off.
“Dumped her in a bar little town of Mauston and
split.” BiBi and I couldn’t help but bust up at that.
“Serves her right” I said when I’d gained a bit of con-
trol over my hoots and hollers.
“Yes it did. She met Chance at the bar. He took
her home. Took care of her. She pulled the “poor
little Roseanne” bit on him saying she wanted to move
to California with him.
“Well being a Christian man he asked her to marry
him. She said ‘yes’. You know she’d have done ‘what-
ever’ to get back to California. Soon as they got here
she got her job back at “The Hole”.
“Bi you’d think Casey’d know better than to have
a tramp like her working for him wouldn’t ya?” Neither
of us could figure that one out.
Casey was an awesome guy and well liked. Straight-
forward businessman. He wouldn’t take crap off nobody.
Why on God’s earth did he put up with Roseanne? She was
always gettin’ thrown in jail. Drugs, drunk drivin’, well
ya name it she’d done it. He’d just bail her out, take
it outta' her pay and put her back to work.
Personally Bi and I couldn’t stand her. If she
needed money (for drugs), she’d offer up ‘her services’
to any taker. Meet ‘em in the backseat of their car,
in the back alley or even in the bathroom and take care
of their business. We didn’t believe there was a person
in “The Hole” didn’t know what she was up to. This chick
was prime pig, slut and thief. That’s all there is to
it. What slug’s leave in their trail, that’s her. Lowest
of the low.
Now, here I am, wantin’ to know this guy, who they
called ‘Little Jesus’. And wonderin’ if lessenin’ some
of the pain he was exudin’, like a beat up and unfed
pup, was worth some time when he was hooked up with
THAT?
Bi was watchin’ me pretty close. Too close. Undoubt-
edly knowin’ ‘xactly what’s goin’ through my befud-
dled mind. She shot me that cute, half-ass grin of hers,
looked his way and hollered out, “Hey, Chance! Why don’t
you join us? Got someone here I want you to meet.”
He was smilin’ the whole way towards us though
the smile didn’t make it to his eyes. Before he left his
barstool he ordered himself another beer checked on
what we were drinkin’ and brought us drinks too. The
man had class. No doubt.
Damn if I didn’t feel that knot in my gut loosen
and 1,000 butterflies start flutterin’ ‘round like they’d
just been freed from a cage. Didn’t like that feelin’
much either.
CUSTODY
CHAPTER TWO
“Chance Walker meet he best friend anyone could have.
Sandy Rose. Sandy this here’s Chance. A mighty fine
man.” When he took my hand I felt a connection. It
startled me and Bi too. He kissed the tips of my fingers.
When I met those dark, brown eyes they were smilin’
at me. “Hello Ms. Sandy. Pleasure to meet you. How’s
it going Ms. Betty?” I sure was glad when he turned his
attention away from me, took a seat next to Bi. I needed
to catch my breath and pull myself together.
‘What the hell?’ I asked myself. I’m not the kind
of person who acts like a damn fool when I meet some-
one. Even when I met Sly, Michael Landon, Ali or even
Elvis, ‘mongst others. ‘What’s goin’ on here? Dear God
please don’t let this good connection turn bad or hurt-
ful. I can’t take anymore troubles or hurt. I need a
break. Just for a little awhile. “Please?” I begged of
the ‘Big Guy Upstairs’.
I’d separated then divorced my husband, Charlie of
eight years because we didn’t communicate. Communication
and trust is thee most important part of a good relation-
ship as far as I’m concerned.
He’d lost his job. Union comin’ in and the Company
closed to block the Union. I’m a bookkeeper. I was
workin’ with a good, stable company when he got laid off.
It was my income that was payin’ the mortgage, utilities
and buyin’ groceries. He’d been takin’ care of our two
adorable little girls. I decided I couldn’t take it any-
more.
We’d been high school sweethearts. He’d graduated
when I was a junior. While he was in the Army, for two
and a half years, we’d remained sweethearts. When he got
out we lived together a’coupla’ years before we got mar-
ried. We’d gotten along well. Were happy.
I couldn’t stand seein’ him so sad. I knew what he
was feelin’. His pride was sufferin’ cause my income was
takin’ care of hisfamily.
There wasn’t anythin’ I could think of to help him
snap out of it. Finally an idea hit me. Somethin’ to
break his frustration and silence. I didn’t think it
through. I didn’t hesitate. I just acted on it for his
benefit.
There was a small, ceramic statue of a little boy
on the end table. Pickin’ it up I threw it as hard as I
could. It hit the wall square on. It was LOUD and smash-
ed that statue to bits and pieces.
I was thrown onto the love seat, his hands
‘round my throat. He was squeezin’ before I realized
what was happenin’. I couldn’t breathe. He let lose of
my neck with his right hand. That raised fist was headed
my way. His eyes were crazed. He was gonna’ hurt me
bad. I guess I wanted him too. Hopin’ it would help him.
Help us. I was willin’ to do anythin’ to get my husband,
whom I loved with all my body and soul, out of his funk.
“Go ahead” I screamed. “Hit me, hit me”. He shook
his head and got off. Staggerin’ ‘round the livin’ room.
I went to him. Pushed him ‘round to look at me. Screamed
again, “HIT ME CHARLIE. I love you. I can take it. GO
AHEAD.”
He turned with that balled fist raised and let it
go. It hit me. Right between the eyes. Charlie stands
six foot one and a half inches and weighs one hundred
ninety pounds. It connected. Hard and fast. My adrenalin
must’ve been poundin’ through my veins like a train on
open track. I didn’t go down. I screamed, “Go ON. I
can take it. Charlie. Hit me. Let me help you. HIT ME.
Come ON!”
Charlie turned again. Looked me straight in the
eyes, which were already turnin’ colors and slumped
to the couch.
Even though I’d brought it on myself, my subcon-
scious couldn’t forgive what had been done to my body.
I’d break out in a cold-sweat whenever he got within
fifteen feet of me.
A’coupla' of days later he spanked Ashley for
wettin’ her pants. The hand prints he left were devas-
tatin’ on her tiny body. That did it. I packed what
we’d need and told Charlie I’d be filin’ for a divorce.
I learned years later both of the girls witnessed
that scene between Charlie and I. That hurt a hella’va
lot more than those punches ever could.
I met Bibi and we’d go out. Have a good time just
hangin’ out with our guy buds. She wasn’t datin’ anyone.
Neither was I and I didn’t want my heart to go out to
Chance. It was too late. I’d brought that warm, beaut-
ifully shy smile clean up to his eyes.
CUSTODY
CHAPTER THREE
We kept that smile in his eyes for the rest of the day.
Bi and I partnered up and Chance partnered up with
Murphy for several hours of pool shootin’. Murphy’s one
of our best guy friends. He rides Harley too and at times,
though not often, he’d join Bi and I on our ‘Thursday
dates’. We loved Murphy. He’s built like a grizzly bear.
Kinda' resembles one. He’s a good family man, husband and
friend.
Mary, Murph’s wife didn’t mind Murphy hangin’ out
with us. She knew us well enough to know we’d take care
of her husband for her. Make sure he didn’t get in any
trouble and if he got drunk we’d see to it he got home
just fine. His Knuckle-head Harley too.
Knowin’ I wanted to bring a little sunshine into
Chances’ world. Bi agreed to hangin’ out at “The Cub” for
the day. We worked great together, keepin’ that smile
on Chances’ face. Murphy's too, come to think of it.
We had some crazy fun and conversation.
Chance and I began to ride together. He had a real
nice ride. A Shovel-head. Little older than mine. Bi and
Murphy joined us several times. Out to Malibu Canyon,
Huntington Beach or Big Bear. We’d have dinner, drinks
and crazy fun, tellin’ tall tales.
‘Bout a month after I’d met Chance we came upon
Roseanne purely by accident. She was bein’ packed by
this grungy lookin’ guy wearin’ the colors of the “El
Diablos”. A well-known ‘bike gang’ outta’ Los Angeles.
Chance, Murphy, Bi and I are affiliated with no group. We
are just bikers lovin’ to ride.
Now Roseanne’s got some eyes on her. I couldn’t call
‘em pretty ‘xactly. Not because I don’t care for her. I’d
call ‘em “useful”. That female can use them eyes to get
anythin’ she wants. Not to mention her body as we pre-
viously discussed. A real manipulator.
Those dead, dark, brown eyes were tryin’ to burn a
hole, right through Chance. I noticed right off and step-
ped in her view grinnin’ big like a Cheshire cat.
The look I gave her told her, “No. Not today. Don’t
even go there”. She didn’t like it much a’tall. Then
she flipped me off. I figured she’d got the message I was
directin’ her way.
Bi noticed the middle finger wave in my direction.
She came over my way sayin’, “Good girl” and gave me a
hug. Made me feel damn good. Chance hadn’t noticed
Roseanne or our ‘conversation’.
We went on in to lunch. BiBi and I were kinda' loud
with our laughter lettin’ Roseanne know we were havin’
a damn good time. Murphy saw her struttin’ by and aided
and abided our needs. In our multitude of friends we did-
n’t know a single person to say anythin’ good 'bout Rose-
anne.
It seem’d she’d worked her ‘charms’ with the guy
she was with. When we got ready to head out they were
right behind us. This was right up Murph's alley. He
loved a little ornery fun. “Diablos” do not have good
reputations and I didn’t want anythin’ to do with this
guy but after all he was packin’ pig.
Murphy hung with him full throttle. This dude musta’
been told some kind of whopper. He was spoilin’ for
trouble. Roseanne was havin’ the time of her life.
Laughin’ her ass off each time her biker would blow
passed us, slow down and blow by us again.
When Murph got into the action is when Chance no-
ticed Roseanne. I’d made a point to block his view of
her no matter which direction she was struttin’. She’d
tried all she could to get Chances attention, without
success at the restaurant.