Mad max, p.1
Mad Max, page 1
Mad Max
Dukes of Tempest, Volume 1
Brill Harper
Published by Brill Harper, 2023.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
MAD MAX
First edition. September 15, 2023.
Copyright © 2023 Brill Harper.
ISBN: 979-8223597452
Written by Brill Harper.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Epilogue
Further Reading: Dirty Dillon: A Small Town Age Gap Romance
Also By Brill Harper
About the Author
One
Cherry Miller
I’m strolling down the sidewalk on my way to work, my nose buried deep in a book, as per my usual. I don’t pay much attention to the world around me because I really don’t have to. What’s the point? Downtown never changes. It’s stuck in a twentieth century time warp—a forgotten place in time.
Sure, the main street of Tempest, aptly named, wait for it...Main Street...is ripe with charm. Delicious aromas waft from the bakery, and a paradise of petals fills the florist’s window. Tools and supplies line the shelves of the hardware store, and at the end of the street, there’s an old-time theater with just one screen.
But no one would film a Hallmark movie here in Tempest anymore. Nobody even comes to Tempest anymore.
That once-grand theater? Stands silent, its velvet curtains and twinkling chandeliers nothing but a memory. In between the cozy bakery and florist and hardware store, the other once-bustling shops have been reduced to desolate facades with boarded up windows, their proprietors having long since left town in search of something more promising.
Tempest is dying slowly.
We desperately need to fill the empty shops and entice families to move back. But a group of entrenched locals seem to be dead set against progress, stuck in their ways that have caused the town to sink into a lethargic state of uninspiring mediocrity.
Lethargic state of uninspiring mediocrity is a pretty good description of my life too, come to think of it.
Romance and adventure are all I dream of, but Tempest is a place of boring sameness. Every day, I see the same faces, hear the same gossip, and pass by the same tired buildings. I am stuck in a cycle of monotony that seems to go on forever. My dreams of excitement feel too far away, like they are never meant to come true. I can’t leave–my family needs me.
As I walk down Main Street, I take a moment to look wistfully at the old empty bookstore and dream of a different future. One where it is still open. And I’m in it.
It’s a shame Myra Hodges had to close it down. She often gave me used books too worn to sell. Or she’d let me sit behind the counter and read new books before she shelved them. She told me she needed my review for marketing purposes, but even then I knew she was just being nice to the weird, broke kid.
Even though I’d seen store after store closing down, it was the shuttering of the bookstore that made me think things aren’t going to turn around. Tempest is becoming a ghost town as more and more people leave in search of something better.
It’s hard not to feel trapped here sometimes. I may never get out—but then again, maybe I’m wrong; maybe something exciting will happen one day and bring new life into this dull little place.
Yeah, right.
I was born and raised in Tempest, and I expect to die here too. I’ll likely be the old, scary spinster with a house full of cats. And books.
Books have always been my refuge, saving me from the chaos of my childhood home and the cruelty of high school.
Reading is my superpower. Unless you count my ability to be completely awkward in literally any situation. In which case, the world’s supervillains should definitely fear me. I am red hot with talent.
Speaking of supervillains, Chad Hamilton pops out of the barbershop in front of me and I nearly run into him. “Hey there, stranger,” he says in his signature smarmy voice. “Long time no see.”
God, he waggled his eyebrows at me. Who even does that?
Chad wouldn’t have given me the time of day in high school unless it was to torment me. But most people our age leave town as soon as they can after graduation. Chad can’t quit Tempest on account of his dad being the Mayor. Chad doesn’t have any skills that don’t include being the mayor’s son.
I suddenly became his “type” when he ran through every other available woman in town. Like I’d suddenly forget all the names he called me in high school. All the humiliation he caused me.
I was quiet, chubby, awkward, and smarter than most of my classmates, so of course I got picked on. A lot. It didn’t help that my mom ran out on us, my dad drank most of his disability checks, and we literally lived across the tracks.
I force a small smile, trying to be a bigger person, but wishing I could disappear right back into my book. Chad’s been a bit too attentive lately, pouring on the charm and compliments, but I know better.
He’s nothing more than a predator who only wants one thing. Besides, I know how he talks about women when they’re not around.
He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and I take a step back, pushing away his arm. He frowns at this rejection and crosses his arms over his chest with an indignant huff.
“What?” Chad demands dramatically. “You can’t even be civil?”
Civil? Like when he stole a pair of my underwear from my gym locker and hoisted them up the flagpole in 10th grade? Kids called me “Granny Panties” for a year.
I raise an eyebrow, letting him know I don’t buy his act. “Chad, you can’t come on to me every time you run into me in the street. It’s getting old. Just accept that I’m not interested.”
“Right. Not interested. How long are you going to play hard to get with me, Cherry?”
“I’m not playing games. I simply don’t want to go out with you.”
He gives me his best “aw shucks” look. “I know I was a dick in high school, but I’ve changed. Give me a chance.”
Even if that were true, and it’s not, he still isn’t what I need. What I dream about. He may have been all that to most of the girls in my high school, but he never revved my engine.
My dream man doesn’t have to be Prince Charming. I don’t want a tame hero. Give me the beast, someone dark, powerful, and commanding. Someone who can take charge of any situation and take care of me at the same time.
A man who will ravish me and make me feel alive in a way I never have before.
But there is no one in Tempest who could ever live up to my expectations. Certainly not a bully like Chad. I want a wild, passionate love.
I’ve been saving myself for the hero of my dreams, which is just stupid. Even if my fantasy man exists, he wouldn’t be found here on the streets of this little town. All men here care about are their TV sports and their six-packs. The ones in the fridge, not on their stomach.
Unless I get out of this town, I am going to die a virgin.
I dart around Chad, eager to get away from his smug overconfident...grossness. “I’m late for work.” And I am. I reluctantly stash my book in my purse and hurry across the street.
I work my ass off as a waitress at Mary’s Corner, the local diner. Dad’s disability check doesn’t go far, so I am keeping our three-person family afloat. He’s sober lately, but that’s usually temporary.
As for my little brother, Adam–God bless him–he is out of control and needs someone to take the reins. That is all on me since Dad gave up on that too after my mom walked out on us.
I hang up my purse and tie on my apron. Mary, the owner and cook, hands me a cup of coffee. “Good morning, pumpkin.”
“Thanks and good morning,” I say gratefully, taking a drink. I look at Mary again. “Your hair! I love it.”
She pats the updo. Usually, Mary scrapes it back into a very tight bun that looks uncomfortable, but I suppose is easy to keep when cooking in a hot kitchen.
“Sandy talked me into bangs and a softer look. You don’t think it’s ridiculous?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s really nice. Sandy did a good job.”
Sandy is the only hairdresser in town unless you want to go to the barber. She took over her mom’s shop two years ago and has been systematically upgrading the hair trends of the older generation. She does it in small doses, so it’s taking a while, but it’s nice to see she finally got Mary to change a little.
Mary is a great boss and I’m lucky to have this job. She never had kids of her own, so she treats me like a bonus daughter. She and my mom had been friends, once upon a time. When my mom was a person worth knowing. Not the woman who would walk out on her two kids and veteran husband with PTSD and an alcohol problem.
Mary nudges me. “I saw you talking to Chad just now. Gossip is that you are the future First Lady of Tempest if he gets his way.”
Gross. First of all, his dad is a terrible mayor, and Chad succeeding him would be even worse. I’m certainly not going to rule the town with him.
I want a man who will love me unconditionally and make me feel wanted and desired–not some power-hungry guy who thinks “I’ll do” in his quest to run a dying ghost town.
“I’m not
The low buzz of conversation at the diner lately has been thick with speculation about a holding company of sorts buying up the empty buildings on Main Street. Nothing has changed, so I’m not sure if it’s more than just idle rumors.
“Nothing new yet,” she answers.
I get to work taking down the chairs and getting ready for the breakfast crowd. Crowd might be an exaggeration. But Mary does good business, and the regulars drop in as usual. Mostly retirees.
A sudden rumble of engines roars through the street, shattering the quiet. Startled, I drop the dishrag in my hands and rush outside with Mary, joining the crowd of curious townsfolk who have come out from their shops hoping to catch a glimpse of what is going on.
Down the main street, a group of three bikers are making their presence felt as they cruise slowly down the street. I can’t look away. Glimpses of the chrome on their bikes glisten in the sunlight as they rev the engines, announcing their arrival.
A chill races through me, a delicious feeling of almost dread that makes my heart beat fast. Tight jeans and scuffed boots hug their muscular bodies as they roar past, their leather armor gleaming with a hint of menace. I shiver, enthralled by the thrill of not knowing what might happen next. It’s been so long since I didn’t know what was happening next. I should be scared, but I’m excited.
So is everyone around me. It’s not like we’ve never seen a motorcycle in town. This just feels...different.
Mary squints, her eyes narrow with suspicion. “If I didn’t know better,” she murmurs, her voice a mix of wonder and disbelief, “I’d swear those are the Duke brothers.”
The Duke brothers? Could it be?
The mere mention of their name is enough to send the townsfolk into a tizzy. They still speak of their wild antics in hushed whispers. The Duke brothers are infamous, the kind of troublemakers that make men lock up their wives and daughters at night. I was just a kid when they left town after their mother’s funeral, but even I knew who they were.
I was captivated by the idea of them, like characters from one of my beloved books. They were the pirates, rogue mercenaries, rebel anti-heroes of my stories. Most of all, I was infatuated by the idea of Max, the oldest brother. He was wild and unpredictable–an outlaw who lived life on his own terms, according to legend anyway.
The wheels in my head start to turn as I try to put two-and-two together. Could this drive-by be connected to the mysterious buyer?
But before I can attempt to determine what exactly is going on, Mary clears her throat and claps her hands together with an air of finality. “All right then. We have things on the grill.”
We don’t, actually. But that’s okay. I get it. Back to work it is.
Back inside the diner, my thoughts keep drifting back to those three bikers–and what it could mean for Tempest.
The air smells like trouble and change.
God, I hope they come back soon.
Two
Maxwell Duke
After our parade through the main street of Tempest, my brothers and I are still laughing about their reactions to us while we have breakfast in Mercy, the next town over.
“If I’d have known how fun that was going to be, I’d have ridden through once a year,” says Dillon, our youngest brother.
“It felt like a scene from an old cowboy movie when the villains ride through town,” I admit.
“Think they still call you Mad Max?” William asks, shoveling in his chicken fried steak.
I shrug, an amused smirk tugging at my lips. The idea that everyone is still talking about us should be comical, but it’s probably true. Typical small town minds.
We were nothing more than three mischievous brothers back then, but the town branded us as uncontrollable hooligans. We ran wild, mostly because that was what they expected us to do, so we did it. As we grew up, our bad boy reputations were like a magnet to the ladies, sometimes even their mamas couldn’t stay away. There was a lot of sneaking out of windows or hiding in closets back then. A lot of being chased by angry men with shotguns. Once, the Sheriff kept me in a cell overnight for my own safety.
But once our mom passed away, there was nothing to keep us in Tempest. I never imagined we’d ever come back. We all succeeded just fine without the help of anyone in that dull old town. More than just succeeded. We all fucking crushed it.
My microbrewery in Los Angeles trended with the right crowd, my IPA earning a lot of national attention and a lot of money. The franchises are still doing well in cities across America.
William can build anything and became a successful contractor and movie set builder. He also worked on celebrity renovations, and for some reason, famous people like to renovate a whole hell of a lot. He was in high demand.
And Dillon served his time in the army as a mechanic, leading to a civilian job as “mechanic to the stars” after coming to live with me in L.A. once he got out of the service. They don’t trust their fancy cars to just anyone.
The Duke brothers were in high demand and we got paid well for it.
It wasn’t until I ran into an old schoolmate of mine that I even thought about my hometown for the first time in years. Jacob Hobbs told me that he’d been back to Tempest to move his folks out after his mom had to close her bookstore. That the town was going under, dying.
My immediate reaction? A smug sense of satisfaction. Good riddance.
That place could rot.
But then Mom’s sweet face flashed in my mind. She’d always said the town was our home, that the roots we had there ran deep. I couldn’t let Tempest just fade away. That would be like letting her go.
So, I scrolled through the listings of the local real estate market, my heart sinking lower when I saw all the available buildings downtown. My mom’s beloved yarn store, the candy store, the bookstore, the toy store, and a couple places I thought used to be women’s boutiques. Closed. Empty. Even the theater.
How many times had we been banished from that toy store, rambunctious kids too wild for their own good? Yet, I still remember the windows twinkling with the lights at Christmas while the train circled around a miniature town resembling ours. We’d press our faces to the glass, starry-eyed as we watched and dreamed about the toys inside.
What little money my brothers and I earned back then for chores or odd jobs was spent in that store. Or the candy store.
Hard to believe they were all gone. Hard to believe the mayor was still there.
So the Dukes came up with a plan. Knowing the best part would be watching all the people who thought we were nothing, who thought we would fail, realize that we saved them all when they couldn’t save themselves.
Big Al’s Autoshop didn’t need much to reopen, so Dillon would be the first getting to work for an actual income. He had plans for adding on later, making a custom shop that people would travel the country for once they finally moved up his waiting list, making Tempest a place worth traveling to. His LA contacts already let him know they are interested.
William and I are going to start rehabbing the empty stores so we can flip them into turnkey businesses. The boutiques, the yarn store, the candy store...all are coming back to life as soon as possible. Some businesses we plan to open ourselves, others we’ll lease out the space for.
And new business will hopefully bring in some more women. I might be recreating fucking Mayberry, but I still want to get laid once in a while.
I have no desire for an everlasting love. I’m not meant to be a family man. Dillon, he’s the one who believes in all that true love crap. He doesn’t remember our dad, though. He was too young when our old man finally lit out of our lives after causing years of heartache for Mom.
I’m perfectly content to be an uncle someday instead. But we need to bring in women under seventy for all our sakes.
“So, Thunderdome tomorrow?” William asks, a glint in his eye.
Yeah, tomorrow. “They won’t know what hit them.”
THE NEXT MORNING, I ride into town solo, parking my Harley in front of the diner, my mind full of things I need to get done.
