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“I swear on the Ancient’s, Roman, if you don’t put me down, I will kill you in your sleep.”
Her threats are probably one of the cutest things about her, of course telling her that wouldn’t be very smart. I’m pretty sure she’ll do it and murderous Jaz probably isn’t someone I like very much, especially when that scorn is pointed at me. Who am I kidding? I’m getting hard just thinking about it.
Instead of putting her down like she demanded, I walk her over to the garage. Luckily, this old school had an automotive class, and while the tools were as basic as it gets, the gymnasium sized room itself had four car bays, raised ceilings, and two car lifts. Of course, we don’t need the lifts for our motorcycles, but they’re good to have, nonetheless. I drop her down next to Cisco, our in-house mechanic who jumps to his feet when he sees me. The walls are covered in tools and posters along with lots of centerfold women. The floors are the typical black and white tiles with scuffs and oil stains, the far wall on the left is lined with large tool chests and shelves plus a cutting station for the custom work Cisco does for the club. The far-right wall is lined with rows upon rows of different sized tires.
“President,” Cisco says as he fists bumps me, “What can I do for you?”
Blues Saraceno is playing through the speakers as I gesture to Jaz, “This is my mate and ol’ lady, Jaz Monroe. I’m showing her around since she’ll need to pull her own weight around here.”
Jaz huffs and rolls her eyes before smiling at Cisco, “This shop is amazing. Do you have enough hands to help you? I’m pretty wicked with a tool or two.”
I smirk at her lame attempt at modesty, but I doubt humility is part of her charm. Jaz is a fucking boss, and she knows it.
"Ah, I mean," Cisco stutters through his response, he doesn't give a shit that she's female or any of that masochistic bullshit, he just hates people stepping into what he considers his domain. Even Jones has a hard time working beside the picky asshole, "yeah...sure."
Jaz gives him a dry stare, "God, such an enthusiastic man, Cisco. Tone it down a bit, 'kay?" she pats him on the shoulder as she passes him by, "Seriously though, this is a fantastic shop. Better than what was available to me in my old pack and way nicer than the machine shop back in Nevada."
As she walks around Cisco sighs and shakes his head, "I don't know if I can work with her, Prez. I mean, I will but I can't guarantee I won't shove my foot in my mouth. You know how it is when people touch my stuff or don't put things where they go."
He's not lying, the guy is very particular about the workspace. His OCD has been a topic during many conversations with other members, and it has even come to blows with Jones a couple of times.Fucking childcare.
"Listen, you will show her absolute respect. She is above you and you will treat her as such. But I don't expect you to pussyfoot around her. If she fucks up, correct it professionally," I make sure to emphasize the word, "but trust me, if you treat her like she's a grunt working Prospect—"
"I'll kick his ass," Jaz cuts in from across the room, "without breaking a sweat."
"And then I will. Understood?" Cisco rubs jaw and concedes. "Yeah, Prez, I got it."
"Good," I clap him on the shoulder, "She starts tomorrow morning."
