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He chuckles, then looks at his watch. “Come by tonight, eleven thirty, the industrial building behind First Baptist on Maple. We meet, you decide, then we’ll see. Decide not to show…” He licks his lips, looking over his shoulder at my back up crew before finishing. “Just saying, there’s no espresso machines in Lennon. And your parole officer, Matthew Gerth, his daughter is a sophomore at the high school. He’s good people, comes to all the games. His little girl is a cheerleader.” He draws his lips back, sucking in air then smacks his lips together on a twisted grin.
“Get the fuck out.”
He turns on a smug smile. “See you tonight.”
I watch as he nods at Rodney and Breach, whistling as he walks out the open bay doors into the spring sunshine and gets in his shitty pearl-white Cadillac DeVille, disappearing down Forest Avenue toward town.
I let the hot liquid of my drink slip over my tongue and heat my throat as I swallow. How that horrible excuse for a human fathered a goddess, I’ll never figure out.
I hear the ringer on the wall phone go off in unison with the one on my desk, and watch as Rodney walks over to answer it as I look at the clock on the wall. It’s three thirty on Thursday. I wanted to finish up with Slate’s carburetor and get it back installed so he could pick up his 1967 Camaro tomorrow, ready for the local car show Saturday, but right now I need some air.
I leave the last sip of my espresso on the counter and stomp out into the garage as Rodney scribbles on a notepad, holding the phone receiver to his ear.
“I gotta go for a ride,” I grunt at Breach, who has his head back under the hood of a bright red, modified Ford Falcon.
“You wanna tell me what’s up? That guy’s been by three times this month and every time he does, your usually shitty mood turns shittier.”
I shake my head. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Our little shop here in trouble?” He raises his eyebrows, wiping a red cloth down the handle of a wrench.
Both of them took a shot coming on with me when I opened the place, leaving Valor Customs and Aces place to come build something different here, and I don’t blame him for being nervous. Even after two years, I’m a newcomer in the eyes of a lot of the club members and trust is something earned over time.
“We’re fine. I said I’ll take care of it and I will. Just finish that.” I nod toward the car as Rodney steps into my peripheral vision, jabbing a piece of paper my way, running his thumb on his other hand under his nose to hide a grin.
I look at the scribbled note, my heart rate tripling, then back at Rodney. “Give me a fifteen-minute head start, then bring the wrecker.”
“You got it, boss,” he answers as I’m already out the front door and on my bike, winding up the engine with a roar.
When I bought the garage, it was just an average auto repair place but it came with a tow truck and the business was on the rotation for local tow calls through roadside assistance policies.
We kept that going, but expanded into special work with mostly roadsters and custom engine work. I was thinking of shutting the towing business down, it’s not a big profit center, but I’m glad I procrastinated long enough that we got this call.
Navy blue 1977 Mustang, parked on the side of Hwy 44 and Thompson Road. License plate E43 TT9. Steam coming from under the hood, temperature gauge in the red.
That’s all the info from the roadside service company but it’s all I needed to know. I have that car and license plate already committed to memory and maybe this is the universe telling me to get off my ass, forget her fucking father and go claim what I already know is mine.
Chapter 2
Chewy
I see the glint of blue in the distance and the thought of rubbing her pretty pussy all over my beard drowns out the logical part of me that says keep on riding.
Don’t stop.
Her father is the world’s biggest jerk off and she’s part of that world, not yours.
The summer-blonde beauty barely knows I’m alive, but getting twisted up with her wouldn’t end well. For anyone. So, I’ve fought off the obsession for as long as possible.
It’s been two years since I first saw her running down Main Street in that vintage original Sapphire-Blue Mustang. It was the auto that caught my attention first, but in a flash, it was the driver that became my obsession. Since then, I’ve put the fear of God and the Devil into any of the other guys from the club, letting them know that she is off fucking limits.
