Those notes really do mean something to me.
In one sense, he knows nothing about me, yet I tell him things I don’t tell anyone from my real life.
Hard to explain, but by the time Chase joins me, I’m so lost in my imagination, he has to cough twice to get my attention.
“First day,” he says as he raises a beer, and we clink glasses.
“First day,” I agree.
“What do you think of the place?” Chase asks. “Your trademark brutal honesty is appreciated here.”
“It’s good,” I tell him. “You know what you’re doing. Honestly, though, why the hell did you pick a building in the gay neighborhood? There’s an ice cream shop across the street, for fuck’s sake, and we’re going to be loud as hell. We normally go with an industrial side street for a reason.”
“Hey, it’s important to be in the gayborhood. I don’t need to tell you. We’ve both run into enough homophobic bikers to fill a bus. Hell, I remember you were bullied out of the auto shop in high school.”
I harrumph. “That wasn’t the half of it. The rest of the geeks had a sci-fi book club but were too scared of the big guy with the motorcycle to let me join, and the only other gay kids stuck their fucking noses up at me for being a geek. With parents who didn’t know what the fuck to do with me, either, no wonder I turned out like this.”
Realizing that I’m complaining, I drink from my beer.
Chase grins. “That’s the surprise I’ve been keeping for you,” he says. “We’re going to be so much more than a garage. This building isn’t zoned just for repair work. We could run a sex club and dive bar out of the back, and it wouldn’t violate the regulations.”
My face falls. “I swear to everything decent in this world, if you try to open a sex club in the back of the garage…”
Chase laughs. “Calm down. I won’t.” He leans forward. “But we could be a real hub for gay bikers. A home where we won’t be judged. Maybe host an occasional weekend metal concert in the shop, or a Sunday kegger in the garage when the regional biker club is in town. You know we’ll stage a killer party when it’s time for the Pride parade.”
I shake my head. “Unbelievable,” I say. “You think you’re going to throw parties around all that expensive equipment?”
“No. We’ll lock the equipment up before the parties. There’s plenty of room.” He leans forward. “Think about it. Gay bikers need somewhere to belong. Why not our shop?”
I take another pull from my beer. He’s right that bikers need a place to call their own. That doesn’t mean I like the idea of partying at the garage, but I can see he’s already committed to the vision.
“You know, you’re a real pain in the ass sometimes,” I tell my friend.
“I knew you’d like it,” he jokes back.
