Page 4 of A Million Pieces


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***

I lower the lift and then wheel the bike I was just working on, off and push the kickstand down. With a microfiber cloth, I give it a quick rundown, wiping my fingerprints off it.

“That doesn’t look like the same bike.”

I smile at Dad.

“You’ve really outdone yourself.”

“Thanks. Here’s a side-by-side comparison.” I hold up my phone, showing him the before picture. “You can see that I shortened up the fenders. Everything else I kept similar, but more modern.”

He grabs my shoulder, giving it a shake. “You’ve got skills, son. I’m so proud of you.” He leaves me so I can call the owner to tell him he can come pick up his bike.

“Holy shit, is this Joe’s bike?” my best friend Derrick asks as he walks around the bike, squatting to look at it closely. “Excellent work, brother. Look at that detail,” he says as he looks at the gas tank. The black matte skull I airbrushed is only visible if you’re aware it’s there and from certain angles and lighting.

“I’m fucking happy with the way it turned out. He didn’t want anything flashy but wanted something.” Derrick takes pictures of the detailed work and will put them on our website.

“Do you want to grab a beer when we’re done here?” He tucks his phone back in his pocket.

“Why don’t you come over? I promised Tripp we’d order pizza tonight. Plus, the Texans are playing.”

I’ve tried hard to balance everything in my life; being a single parent, a busy career, and having some me time. Of course, I feel bad, like I’m pushing my kid off on everyone if I do go out to get some time for myself.

Mom’s the one who has been insistent that I have a social life. Plus, I have obligations to my brothers in the club. They’ve all been supportive, helping or their old ladies helping so I can still take part in club business.

“Hell yes, I love hanging with my favorite little dude.”

We agree on a time for him to come over and I head in back to wash up before Joe comes to pick up his bike.

***

Tripp’s asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. I lean down and kiss his forehead. This boy has turned me into the biggest pussy, but I mean that in the best way possible.

I step out into the living room and take the beer that Derrick hands me. “You’re a good dad—you know that, right?”

I hold out my beer to him, and we clink them together. “Thanks, man. He’s an easy kid—I’m lucky.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I didn’t tell you, but last week I saw Brooke.”

“Really? Did you talk to her?” Derrick loves Brooke, but who didn’t? Back in the day, it was always me, Brooke, Derrick, and Riley, and we were thick as thieves.

I shake my head. “The moment she saw me, she ducked into the bathroom, hiding until we got our coffees and were gone before she came out. She looked good, beautiful.”

He nods, not saying anything because he knows how I feel about her. Luckily, he can read me, and he drops it. “Remember the chick I was banging last weekend?”

“The redhead? Yeah, what about her?”

He shakes his head. “I thought she was fucking cool, man, but she’s turned into a stage five clinger.” Derrick groans. “Why do I bring them back to my place? I need to just use my room at the clubhouse.”

“I told you to stop doing that. I don’t ever bring anyone back here.” I love my best friend. He’s my brother, but he’s a serial dater, breaking hearts all throughout the Midwest. He’s been the cause of many, many cat fights over the years.

Me, well, I’ve always been a one-woman man, but I destroyed that. Fuck, I didn’t just destroy it, I obliterated it.

Chapter Three

Brooke

My nerves are frayed as I wait for Austin to show up. Last night I unblocked him and sent him a text about picking up his things. He called me, and I answered, but only to tell him to come over get his stuff today. He shocked me by screaming at me and had the nerve to call me a bitch. I quickly hung up and texted him what time to be here and then I blocked him again. Riley didn’t want me to be alone and wanted me to ask Derrick, her cousin, and at one time, one of my best friends, but I told her that I could handle it.

I’m still not sure why he got mad at me—he’s the one that obviously cheated on me during his “guys” weekend. I continue to pace until I hear his car pull up. I shake my hands out as I watch him through the front window. He looks pissed, but I don’t care.

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