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Les didn’t hesitate. “Sure you paid for the image on the right, you cheap prick. You want I should erase the other side, I can do it. You gotta understand, my time’s worth money, man. Seems only right you should pay for it—if you want your bike back.”
Sloan, wishing Les had cleared the cost with Bo before doing the work, clenched his fists. He could see Bo wasn’t taking to being dissed from the likes of a garage employee.
“Okay, let’s all calm down. We can talk about this.” Since he’d never interfered with Les’s prices and his way of charging before, Sloan had no idea if the estimate was fair or not. Every designer set his own rates, which was as it should be. Some were geniuses like Les, and others… not so much.
Provoked, Bo started to walk towards Les, his hands clenched, his manner that of a man who was pissed.
Sloan blocked his path. “I said we’d discuss this, like professionals—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Bo pushed him aside to get to Les. Not willing to let that happen, Sloan hauled back and slugged the guy in the stomach. Before he could follow through with a blow to the head, Bo swung his arm and brushed Sloan off like a bug. He had Les in his sights.
Roy, not liking this treatment, stepped into the fray and got himself shoved aside in a similar manner.
Throughout the skirmish, Les never moved. Not until Bo reached for him. Then his feet came up and the strong surfer’s muscles in his legs kicked out, sending the big man went flying ass-over-tea-kettle, crashing into the steel cabinets lined up along the wall.
Totally wild now, he rushed back to Les, whose fists were up and ready, but met Sloan who wasn’t about to let Bo loose.
First he kicked out Bo’s leg using the tackling method taught to him during basic training. Then he forced the man to his knees. He had Bo’s hands behind his back in seconds. Restraining his arm in a move-and-you’ll-be-sorry hold, he hissed. “Bo, I swear I’ll break the goddamn thing if you don’t stop. Then how’ll you ride your precious Harley?”
Bo’s struggling ceased. He cussed a fine string and then heaved a sigh. “Okay! Fine. I’ll pay.”
Les, seeing as how he’d gotten his way, decided to be magnanimous. He pushed his long silver tail of thick hair back over his shoulder and crouched down. “If I halve the price because it wasn’t discussed beforehand, will you accept it? Don’t wanna make enemies. Jus’ wanna get paid for an honest day’s work.”
Bo stared into Les’s eyes, taking his measure. “Seriously, man? You gonna take seven-fifty?”
“I will.”
“I don’t have that much on me, got a couple hundred. Can I take the bike and bring back the rest?”
“You can. Let him up, Sloan. We gotta shake on it so I know the man won’t break his word.”
Sloan let go of Bo’s arms and helped him to his feet. Without a break in his movement, Bo slugged Sloan in the face and then stuck his hand out toward Les. “I didn’t hit him hard, but the man’s gotta know he can’t be punching me and getting away with it.”
Sloan stayed Les’s fist and rubbed his cheek where he had no doubt a bruise would be showing up soon. “Just get this over with so I can leave. Bo, give Les the money.”
Bo made a point of handing Les the money, and then waited for Les to finally shake hands. Once the deal was settled, he wheeled his bike to the entrance and the three left behind listened as the motor clicked and then clicked again without starting.
Taking the two spark plugs and a wrench from the drawer where they’d been hidden, Les threw them at Bo and watched as the man fit the parts into place and retried the bike, which started with a roar and disappeared.
Les turned to Sloan and grinned. “Let that be a lesson to you, son. Don’t ever let anyone ever take advantage of you. Know your worth.”
Roy pointed at Les before he disappeared back to his own area. “One thing I know, you ain’t worth a punch in the face.”
“I love you, too, Santa Claus.”
Roy flashed him his middle finger and an unholy grin split his face. “Hope Bo gets a lot of use from your wrench he just rode off with.”
