CHAPTER TWO
RILEY
I pull my Yamaha Roadliner up to the big old brick garage, park the cruiser on the street, and let it rumble. My old buddy Chase is opening his own repair shop, and he’s asked me to help put things in order. No part of me intended to move across the country to Buffalo, New York, but despite not having many friends, loyalty and commitments are important to me. I don’t say no when someone I care about asks for help.
Chase pulls up on his chopper. A lanky guy with long red hair and facial piercings, he grins when he sees me and hops off his ride.
“Riley, my man.” He rubs my shoulder. “Ready to meet the crew?”
I snort. “I guess. How they feel about another boss coming in?”
“Lucky you’re as competent as you are bossy.” Chase gestures into the garage. “And don’t worry. I warned them about you.”
Contractors are busy at work getting the garage ready to open, and Chase leads me in while he chats, pointing out the different stations and equipment under the high ceilings. The shop is right on the edge of the busy gay neighborhood, but the old building is generously spaced. With both garage doors up,sunlight pours in across the cement floor, and there’s enough room to work on five or six bikes, easily.
“What do you think?” Chase asks eagerly as we stand in the middle of the garage.
“Need to move those stations,” I grumble, gesturing across from me. “One more lift over there, maybe two. And why aren’t there more wrenches? There should be wrenches everywhere I look.” I cast my eyes around one more time before I nod. “But yeah,” I tell him. “Yeah. We can make this work.”
Chase and I both started our careers in the same garage more than a decade ago, back in sunny California. He knows I’m a no-nonsense guy, which is why he hired me in the first place. Doesn’t matter if I’m working on bikes or reading my fantasy novels. I know what works and what I like, and I don’t have patience for bullshit.
“Excellent,” Chase says. “How about you, man? You settling in? Anything you need?”
“We’re getting a pitcher after work, right?” I confirm, and when he nods, I grunt. “In that case, all I need is to get started.”
Chase claps his hands together. The garage is noisy, but he calls out loudly enough to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, crew! Huddle up! Time to meet the big guy.”
I smooth down my T-shirt as I watch the mechanics assemble. They look like a bunch of bikers, that’s for sure. It’s all tattoos and dirty denim. There are a few flashes of color, green hair and pink hair, and the rainbow on an older guy’s T-shirt. I get a few cautious smiles, although just as many reserved stares.
I make myself stand up straight to address the crew. “Name’s Riley. Been in this business nearly fifteen years, and I’ve launched four successful shops in that time. My buddy Chase tells me you’re a good crew, and he’s a hell of a boss. Me? I’m the asshole here to tell you how to do your job.”
It gets a laugh, at least. I hate doing talks like this, but once I’ve established the tone, I hand it over. I make everyone introduce themselves and their teams, and I ask questions about their jobs and methods. I let them do the talking as I learn about the place, and when they’re done, I lick my teeth and think for a moment.
“Ali, Big Jo, and Little Joe, you’re a team now. Pirate Bill, you’re our tire guy. And the rest of you, you’re splitting the customer-facing responsibilities. Front desk. New clients. All of it, equally divided.”
Everyone stares at me for a second before they all start to object. Chase raises a hand, though, and calls an end to the meeting. “You heard him! Back to work!”
When we retreat to the office, he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s the worst possible division of labor, you lugnut.”
“I know,” I tell him, annoyed. “I’ll put them in the right spots in a couple weeks. In the meantime, this will force them to learn to work as a team. That’s the first priority.”
Chase coughs out a laugh. “Nothing like messing with the employees two days before we open to the public.”
“They will be fine.” I shrug. “Better to do it now, before bad patterns set in.”
Chase shakes his head. “I’m not going to argue. Can’t say it’s going to make the crew like you.”
“They don’t need to like me. They just need to respect me.” I grab one of the tool belts that are hanging on the wall. “That’s why I’m heading out to the floor to help with these installations. Show them I know how to get my hands dirty. You need me for anything else first?”
“Do your thing.”
I spend the rest of the day with my sleeves rolled up. Moving heavy equipment means total focus, no distractions allowed. I work up a good sweat with the new crew, figuring out theirrhythms even though they’re all skittish around me, hiding their eyes and flinching when I grunt too loud. When the day is over, I’m good and tired.
I get to the bar where I’m meeting Chase first and plop down in a rear booth. It’s another gay bar in another city. I’ll be in Buffalo for one year, not long enough to bother getting invested in the place or the people here, especially considering how lousy I am at acting social. Instead, I’m happy to order a burger, pull my phone out, and open up the latest response from MorningEnthusiast. This next chapter came quick, and he always manages to surprise me with his creativity.
I chuckle when Lark charms the vampire into growing demon horns, and I grunt with satisfaction when MorningEnthusiast adds another clever twist to the prophecy. He leaves the characters wrestled into an embrace, breath heaving, and I look up at the ceiling as I ponder what comes next.
Never thought I’d get into writing fantasy erotica with a stranger from the internet. I’ve always been a reader, but never tried to come up with my own stories. Don’t think of myself as a creative type at all, in fact. But what started out as a curiosity has grown into something that matters to me. It’s an indulgence, a relief from the real world, an outlet. I get to be someone different when I’m writing to him, a little freer, both in crafting the stories and the notes we write back and forth.
