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Chapter Twelve
Before heading to the agency the next morning, as promised, Sloan stopped at the garage first to find Les working in his area. Airbrushes, spray guns and paint surrounded the beaming man immersed in his specialty.
A few days before, he’d taken a custom detailing on a Harley for a demanding customer. With the steady hand of a master, he was working the ultimate touches on his intricate dragon versus angel design.
The purple and dark pink hues of the swirling angels offset the vibrant reds, golds and oranges of the dragons. The battle between the two sets of warriors waged on, encircled by filmy smoke, burning flames and sparkling mist that swirled around the heavenly beings.
Sloan shook his head, still not able to understand how this old genius could come up with such details and then replicate it exactly on both fenders.
“Hey, Sloan, whaddaya think? Figure Bo will like it?”
Since Bo, the Harley’s owner, weighed in at over three hundred pounds, sported a Hell’s Angels vest and carried himself with a hard-assed attitude that screamed…Don’t fuck with me, Sloan sure as hell hoped so.
“How can he not? You’ve outdone yourself, Les. I think this is the best one yet.”
“Crissakes, boy. You say that about all my work. Can’t you spit out an original compliment?”
“Quit angling, you old fart. I like it already.”
A twinkle appeared in the sapphire sparkles of Les’s still attractive eyes. He stretched his lean, muscular body that almost reached Sloan’s own six feet, three inches before speaking again. “I’m thinking Bo’s gonna get his shit in a knot when I tell him the price has doubled. The son of a bitch paid me, but the ugly asshole’s laughing behind my back.”
Visualizing the invoice from the new system that’d been recently instigated, Sloan shook his head. “You charged the man fifteen hundred. It’s fair.”
“Ratfink bastard added stuff to the design after I wrote out that stupid bill; wanted two angels instead of the original one. And he decided I should cover the whole area rather than the smaller picture we’d agreed on. To top that off, he wanted the image replicated on both sides. Fuck’s sake, Sloan, I can’t afford to work for nuthin’.”
Roy climbed out of the pit from under the Stingray. He dropped his tools and joined Sloan and Les. “Pfft.You jus’ gotta make trouble, old man, don’tcha? Sloan’s been working so hard to get this place in shape, and ya buck him at every turn.”
Les winked at Sloan, put his hands on his hips and grumbled, “Watch yer mouth, Roy. You never letmesay fuck. Not without getting shit.”
Red exploded in Roy’s cheeks as he spit his indignation. “I said buck. B-U-C-K. Get your ears cleaned, and while you’re at it, get them to wash out your mouth too.”
Les laughed, delighted that he’d riled Roy. The two were at it all day. “Who said you could come out of your cage?”
“I heard you trying to make trouble. That Bo’s a mean one.”
“Yep, bat-shit crazy. And cheap as a pimp trying to cut down the booze for his alcoholic whore. I know that already, nosey-parker. I’m havin’ a discussion with my boy here so butt out.” In a way that no sixty-five-year-old should be able to do, Les lifted himself on the counter as easily as a man half his age.
Red-faced, agitation bristling his whiskers, Roy yelled. “He’s not your boy, you old fool. He’s your boss and you treat him with respect. If he says you charge what you invoiced, that’s the end of it.”
“But he never said that, did he? How could he when you interrupted before he could get a word out… nosey asshole.”
Sloan recognized the beginnings of a full-out battle between the two old co-workers. He’d heard them going at it all his life and had learned to either take off or cut it short at the start.
“Hey, enough! Did you tell Bo you’d have to charge more when he told you to change the plans?”
Les pushed his long ponytail over his shoulder and leaned forward, both hands now on his knees. “Fuck him. He’s got a brain, don’t he? It makes sense it’ll cost more.”
“What costs more?” Bo ambled into sight from around the corner. Soon as he saw the finished bike, he moved swiftly and bent to his knees. “Dammit all to hell, dude. You got it perfect.”
Les drawled his response, “I knew you’d like it. I added the stuff you wanted but it’s gonna cost you more. You told me to double the image and that means double the price.”
Bo straightened.
Sloan stiffened.
Roy groaned.
“I don’t think so, Les. You gave me an invoice, overcharged me as far as I’m concerned, but I’m a fair guy and I paid you.” Bo’s beady eyes glowed, almost obliterated by the bushy eyebrows and overgrown whiskers that covered his face. “Don’t fuck with me, man.”
