5 Bikers for Valentines

“Did it before the weekend hit. By the end of the month, I’ll be all yours.”

“How are the advertisements for the place coming?”

“I got us a Facebook page set up, and it already has four hundred likes. There’s a Twitter account, too. So, we can keep people updated on specials and parties and shit. The flyers around town are up, and there are signs in other people’s windows. And the jewelry makers are talking to their personal customers about our stores since we’re showcasing their shit.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Four hundred likes already? I know that’s not a lot, but it seems like it.”

“My goal is one thousand by the end of the month.”

“How the hell are you going to do that?” I asked.

“There are towns that border Lucas Corner. I’m going to ride in with Crow to put up some fliers.”

“With Crow, huh?” I asked.

“Can it, Emma.”

“Just saying. He’s right up your alley and hasn’t turned into a shithead yet. Two weeks is a new record, don’t you think?”

“You’re an asshole,” she said.

“And you’re stuck with me.”

“How are things with the manufacturers going?”

“Really well. I approved the final designs, and they’re being shipped to me now. Well, the house. The guys’ and my house.”

“How are things going there? At the house with all the guys?”

“We’ve had to postpone a few things, actually. None of us have truly moved in yet,” I said.

“Why not? It’s been three weeks since you started.”

“Some things needed to be repaired before we could all move in. The house is old. There was lead paint on the walls, and the insulation needed to be changed out. Mold and shit, you know?”

“Yikes.”

“I know. But all that stuff was wrapped up yesterday and the inspector’s coming through again today. If all goes well, I’ll be spending my first night there tonight,” I said.

“Let me know how it goes?”

“Always. So, what the hell are we sticking in these offices?” I asked.

“I mean, the stereotypical shit, I guess. Desks. Computers with our software on them. A mini-fridge with drinks and shit. Staplers. Hole punchers. Rubber bands. Pencils and shit.”

“Sounds like a teacher’s desk.”

“Better than behind the bar,” she said.

“Don’t I know it. Don’t get me wrong, I liked working there. But it will be nice to run normal hours.”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of a night owl,” Lindy said.

“That’s why we will each have a set of keys. You can work in your office whenever you want, and I can work in mine whenever I want,” I said.

“Sounds good to me. When do you want to order the furniture for the offices?”

“We could get lunch tomorrow, and I could bring my laptop.”