Chapter 20: Lisa arrested

My own experiences with being on the wrong side of the law also moves me a step towards transforming me from the Lisa-who-was to the Lisa-I-become. Everything is starting to settle down by the third week after Michael and I split up. Drax, Xara and I have established a workable routine at home; I’ve visited my parents and calmed most of their alarm about my change in lifestyle; and I’m progressing at work to the extent that I don’t wet my pants if a gang member enters the workshop when Plug isn’t around.

Plug and I fix a variety of problems with the bikes brought into the garage for attention. Some simply require a routine service, while others need damage repairs or replacement parts. The Harley Fat Bob waiting for me to fix one morning has an unusual problem. The bike has been targeted during a gun fight. The bullet hole in the petrol tank is the most visible of the bike’s problems, and it could easily have been the most catastrophic. I know better than to ask questions, and I happily rely on Plug to attend to the paperwork. Should we report this to the police? Almost certainly, but that would also be a good way to end up floating face down in the river.

“Can you fix her?” asks the biker with a Viper’s gang patch on his jacket.

“We’ll need to order a new petrol tank,” answers Plug, before turning to me. “What else have you found, Lisa?”

“Um ... There are at least four places that have been damaged by bullets. Mostly dents, but some of the cabling might need replacing. We won’t know for sure until we fit a new petrol tank and can start her up.”

The biker calls back two days later as arranged. We’ve fitted a new petrol tank and replaced a brake cable. Apart from a few dents, the bike seems to be running fine. The biker pays for the repairs in cash and rides off a lot happier than when he arrived a couple of days ago. However, he returns about ten minutes later.

“The engine doesn’t sound right,” complains the biker. “And when I open the throttle it doesn’t have the same acceleration.”

Plug and I take a look at the engine but there’s no obvious problem. I check the throttle, and everything seems okay.

“I can’t see anything wrong,” I say. “I’d need to ride the bike to get a better idea of the cause of the problem.”

“Nobody drives Jane Doe but me,” asserts the biker as though I had just insulted his bike.

“That’s OK,” says Plug. “You can drive while Lisa rides pillion. Go put on your leathers, Lisa.”

I do as Plug asks, although I’m not comfortable about riding with this stranger. I’m mollified when Plug makes it clear that he’ll follow behind us on his own bike.

“You never said that you are a Red Dragon,” says the biker when he sees my red and black gear.

“I’m not,” I reply. “These are ordinary leathers. See, no patch.”

“The yellow trim on the arms of your jacket mark you as a Dragon as much as any patch on your back.”

“Lisa isn’t in any gang,” says Plug. “Now, if you want your bike fixing, saddle up.”

I don’t know the relationship between the Vipers and the Red Dragons, but I’m guessing it isn’t cordial. Rivalry between gangs ebbs and flows as new alliances are forged, and old ones ended. Whatever this biker’s feelings are towards the Dragons, he stops making an issue of it. I mount the pillion seat, and we set off at a breakneck speed. I soon identify the likely problem with the bike’s performance but we’ll need to go back to the workshop for me to make the adjustment.