Page 86 of Misadventures of a Biker

“Not sure, old man. I’ll see where the road takes me.”

“I’ve got one thing to say before you go,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“One person got you to this juncture in your life. You need to remember to dance with the one who brought you, son.” He turned away. “That’s the only advice I’ve got.”

* * *

At eighty miles an hour, each raindrop felt like a dagger piercing my skin. The torrential downpour had been going on for thirty minutes. Gripping the handlebars like my life depended on it, I held the motorcycle between the white lines, praying the rain would stop before a passing motorist inadvertently forced me into the swamps of the Everglades.

To pass the time—and to take my mind from the pain of riding through a tropical storm—I thought of my future with Teddi’s firm. In a million years, I would have never chosen a career in real estate.

I couldn’t decide if I enjoyed it because it was all I had or if it was because it was where I belonged.

I considered the MC and the brotherhood the club offered me. Having no family was a difficult pill to swallow. The club resolved the issue as completely as possible. There was no loneliness in an MC, that was for sure.

As much as I enjoyed Herb’s company, allowing myself to get closer to him would only hurt me in the future. He wasn’t going to live forever. If I stayed where I was for much longer, losing him would crush me.

The rain stopped. Drenched to the bone, I held the handlebars with one hand while removing my glasses with the other.

I wiped them against my jacket, which only made matters worse. An illuminated sign on the horizon marked the distance to my destination.

As I sped past it, I grinned.

Miami 12

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Teddi

Harry Morgan sat across from me with his legs crossed. His neatly trimmed gray hair was held into place with product, giving it a sculpted look of sophistication that went well with his custom-tailored suit.

“Let’s list it for what I paid for it,” he said. “It should sell promptly at that price.”

“With all due respect,” I said, “I think you could get five million on top of that, if not more. You bought it right after the market collapsed. It’s recovered considerably since then.”

“I’ll go with your recommendation,” he said with a nod. “Now, what about a new home? We’d like something close to the beach but not beachfront. Maybe right off Pine Ridge, along Crayton Road.”

“Devin’s father built several homes along Crayton, believe it or not.”

“That’s what he said,” Harry replied. “He sent me a few listings in that area last week. There’s one I’d like to see, for sure. Where is Devin today?”

“He’s sick,” I said. “It must be pretty bad. He hasn’t missed a day since he started. Always the first one in and the last to leave.”

“He’s a fine example of the old adage, ‘You can’t judge a book by its cover.’ I knew after a few seconds of talking to him that he was a damned good man. Character can’t be disguised as being anything but what it is. His tattoos are a facade.”

“He’s one of a kind,” I agreed. “That’s for sure.”

“Are you aware of the listings he sent me?” he asked.

I wasn’t aware that Devin was communicating with Harry. It didn’t surprise me, though. Devin wasn’t one to brag or make small talk about upcoming events, listings, or potential clients. He simply did his job and allowed his work to speak for itself.

“Not fully,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Of the listings Devin sent, there is one on Crayton and one on Turtle Hatch that appeal to us. Both of them appear to suit our needs. Pricing is commensurate with their location and recent listings in the area, according to the spreadsheet he prepared. I’d like to set up a time to see them.”

“Can you forward the addresses to me?”