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My gut turned as the truth of my situation sunk in. In order to get my mind on something much more pleasant, I doom-scrolled through social media. I was surprised to find a video of a group of Buddhist monks walking for peace. They started in Ft. Worth and were heading to Washington, DC. They’d even adopted a dog along the way and took very good care of it.

The comments were mostly favorable of the monks and their desire to draw attention to peace around the world. As they walked north, people in every town came out to support them with food and water, some offering them places to sleep when the weather was inclement. It was refreshing to see that there were people in the world who still had hope and humanity inside them.

Was there any way people would support my stupid ass if I walked or ran or biked across the country for a charity? Would that be enough to gain the support of the Board of Directors of Aames Investments?

The next morning, I sent a text to Bridges Eaton. He’d offered to give me any assistance he could, and if he was being true to his word, I was going to take him up on it.

Hi, Bridges. I was wondering if you were available for lunch one day this week. I’d like to take you up on your offer to help me. I have the beginning of an idea. Thanks. Weston Aames

I hoped I would hear back from him sooner than later. An idea was marinading in my mind that I needed to bounce off someone other than Mom. She had enough weight on her shoulders.

Hello Weston. I’d be more than happy to meet with you. I’m glad you reached out. Give me a time and place, and I’m there. Bridges

When I woke to that message from Bridges, I was giddy. I hurriedly responded.

I can come to your studio if you tell me where it is. Tell me when you’re free. I don’t want to interrupt anything but maybe we can go eat somewhere nearby.

Bridges sent me another text with his address in Brooklyn. His studio was on the first floor of the building he owned, and he suggested that he’d order something for us instead of going out. I was shaking in my sneakers because I really fucking needed him for everything in my plan to work.

After researching charities and solidifying my mission in my mind, I started making notes. Where I’d start. Where I’d finish. What I could do along the way. There were a lot of details to figure out, but I had the ultimate expert to provide guidance if he was willing to live up to his word.

I rode my bike to Bridges’ place in Brooklyn, pushing the buzzer on the door. A pretty woman opened the door and gave me a less-than-impressed scan. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Weston Aames. I’m here for a meeting with Bridges Eaton.”

She stared at my bike and cracked a smile. “The Essex. It’s the only one of its kind. It was made for you?”

I didn’t realize the bike had a name. “I guess. I mean, Bridges made it for me when I graduated high school.”

The young woman smirked. “No doubt. Come in and bring the bike. Fuckers steal in this neighborhood. By the way, I’m Alexis. I work with Bridges.”

We shook hands as I dragged my bike into the building and followed her to a spot where there was a drawing of the exact bike I’d ridden to Brooklyn. “Leave it here. He’s back in the workshop.”

I pushed down the kickstand and followed her through a door where Bridges was busy working on a very cool frame. “Wow. That’s different.”

Bridges, the gorgeous hunk of man who I’d been crushing on for too long, turned to me with a shining smile. He was wearing goggles as he sanded on a non-metal frame he’d mounted on a stand holding it on top of a metal table. It was just the beginning of a bike, but it was going to be an incredible piece of machinery.

“Thanks. This is an Eaton Superior Hybrid for a client in Belgium who’s participating in Cycling in Flanders, which is a combination of road races and cross-country races. It’s a new type of bike that can be light enough to achieve the speed of pavement but sturdy enough to sustain the hills and bumps of the cross-country trails.”

I nodded. “That’s very interesting.”

“How are you, Weston? How’s your mother? I haven’t had a chance to speak with her since the reading of Claude’s will, probably because I haven’t been called to do more than sign as a witness when Edmond turned over the deed to CJ and Claudia.” Bridges was kind to ask about Mom, and I felt bad about his having to deal with my half brother and sister. Probably in his capacity as executor of Dad’s estate.

“She’s making contingency plans. We’re going to look for a place to live and rent out the Manhattan apartment. I need to get a job, for sure, but I have an idea about the redemption thing Uncle Ed mentioned in that meeting you attended at his office.”

I took a seat by the tilted table where Bridges had a set of blueprints spread out. It was a bike that appeared to be special. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before.

Bridges walked over to where I sat, putting his hand on my shoulder and sending a zing down my spine. “Is that why you’re here?”

I wanted to melt into him.

In my head, I put the words together about what I hoped he’d help me with. It was a big ask, and I hoped he’d entertain the idea.

“I was hoping you’d help me plan a bike trip for charity, unless it’s against your executorship. I don’t know anything about the legal obligations in that instance.”

Bridges smirked. “I’ve only done one thing so far, so let’s say your request doesn’t breach my fiduciary responsibility to the estate. I told Edmond I’m not taking the stipend. I didn’t want the money, and I don’t need it. So, tell me about your bike trip.”

I nodded, happy with his response. “I’m planning to leave from New York and end the ride in San Francisco the weekend of their Pride celebration. I’ll make a substantial donation to the Rainbow Equality Alliance, an LGBTQ+ organization that further equality for those of us in the LGBTQIA community. The give grants to other charities, one of which helps young people who are displaced from their homes due to their sexual or gender orientation. It’s a big ask of you, but I don’t know how to do it on my own.