As long as he got over the fact that I was a woman and not a guy. Once I showed him what I could do, he’d adjust. I had always been good at charming older people.
Curious, I grabbed my laptop and googled garages in the Littleburn area. Four came up, and I examined the information I could find. They all looked reasonably okay. One of them specialized in motorcycles and restorations, and they were the only one with a website, but it was very outdated. There were some pictures of bikes that had been restored, and I studied them carefully. They were all well done. My dad loved motorcycles and had worked around them his whole life. He’d had a small shop, which was where I spent my summers until I was old enough to know I preferred dresses to jumpsuits and makeup to grease. Still, I answered the phones and did invoicing and ordering for him in the summers to help defer the cost of hiring someone. When my brother died, my dad’s enthusiasm for the shop, and for life, died with him, and he sold it.
I shook off those memories and looked at the computer again. I was at least honest with Cycleman about that. I could name engine parts and knew how to do an oil change or switch out a tire, but I was better acquainted with the workings of an office.
I had no idea which of the shops it was I was now going to be working for. One picture caught my eye of an older man, standing beside a Harley, obviously ill at ease in front of the camera. He scowled at the lens, and behind him, the shop was chaotic and messy. I had a feeling that was the one. It certainly looked as if he needed help. I peered at the grainy picture. If that was Cycleman, he didn’t look mean, just a bit grumpy.
I could work with that.
A sudden thought occurred to me, and I pulled up the bus information, found the bus Cycleman had mentioned, then swallowed when I looked at a one-way fare.
It was forty-two dollars. I now had twenty-one dollars in my purse. It was all I had. I would have to borrow the money from Kelly. She was the only one I could ask. It wasn’t much, so I had a chance at least. I shot her off a text, asking where she was. Her reply made me groan.
Kelly: Had a chance to fly to Jamaica for a shoot. Back in a week! You okay?Kelly was an assistant to a photographer. The pay was terrible but the fringe benefits great for her, plus she was learning a ton. If she was out of town, I couldn’t borrow from her. She was a little leery of online banking and did everything in cash. I sent back a fast reply, not wanting to upset her.
Charlynn: Found a job, things looking up. It’s out of town—will be in touch when settled.All I got back was a smiley face, so I knew she was busy. I sighed, wondering how I was going to get the rest of the money for the bus fare. I wondered about sending Cycleman a message and asking him to forward me a little cash, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t like that, so I decided to use that as my last resort. I was about to get up when I saw it again. The shadows of feet outside my door. The handle turning slowly.
I crept to the door, knowing Terry was on the other side. I could hear him breathing, cursing low under his breath. I wanted to peek through the peephole then suddenly remembered seeing a show where the person on the other side had a piece of equipment that let them see inside using the peephole. I tiptoed to the kitchen and found some masking tape and a black marker. I soaked the tape with the ink, then snuck back and covered the peephole.
“I hear you,” he muttered. “I know you’re in there.”
I held my breath and lowered myself to the floor, picking up the sawed-off hockey stick I usually used to prop open the window.
He jeered. “You can’t stay in there forever. I’ll be back. You have a debt to pay.”
Carefully, I opened the mail chute. As I suspected, Terry was in front of the door. I flattened myself and peeked under the doorframe, lining up the stick with his feet.
He loved to go barefoot around the building. I thought it was disgusting to walk in other people’s homes with your bare feet and asked him to wear shoes once. He had laughed in my face.
“Should have listened, asshole,” I muttered, then drew back my arm as if I were holding a pool cue and let it thrust forward fast.