I loved getting up and having somewhere to go and something to do and none of it was fretting or hiding from repo men or bill collectors.
Not to mention, I had complete control of the office and no one got in my business.
In fact, they let me have at it and seemed relieved paperwork no longer threatened their day-to-day existence. So the job had a built-in popularity quotient, which didn’t stink.
Further, the guys and gals who worked there might be rough and tumble, but I was sharing Buck’s bed, his home and coming to work on the back of his bike. I learned fast that this afforded me more than a modicum of respect.
It was like I was Queen Biker Babe.
They were nice, they were courteous, and they deferred to me instantly.
In the beginning, I found this slightly bizarre, but I had to admit, it was pretty awesome.
Moreover, the office had no hours.
When I began my job there, Buck had not plugged his alarm clock back in, and hadn’t set it before I’d unplugged it, because, he explained, “I go where I go when I go, and if you’re with me, and until we get you your ride, you’ll be with me, so that’s where you’ll be.”
(Interesting side note: Buck was a journeyman cabinetmaker, so for the most part, he worked in the workshop in the warehouse building cabinets that they then took to jobs to be fitted. I’d seen his work, and like everything else about him, it was amazing. Bonus to this, unless he was off doing MC things, he was around a lot and made a point to have lunch with me every day. Which I thought was really sweet.).
Thus, I showed at the office when Buck was ready to come into Phoenix. I left when Buck was ready to go home.
Sometimes, Driver or Cruise would take me back up to his place, but that was rare.
Mostly, even if Buck was off doing non-store/non-contracting, president of the Aces High MC things, he’d come back and get me.
I found this an immense relief, and after giving it thought, I understood why.
And the why was because I had been responsible for every move I made for so long, doing all the right things, being where I was supposed to be, taking care of me, it was nice to have someone else making the decisions for a change. It was nice to be wherever I was whenever I got there.
It was nice to be able to just be.
As the days slid by, the guys got used to me and the deference became friendliness. I always had a fresh pot of coffee going, sometimes they’d hang in the office as I’d work, and they’d joke or tease or whatever.
I liked this so much, I facilitated it by bringing in baked goods. I made boxed brownies first. Then I graduated to store-bought cookie dough cookies. Those were so well received, I made from-scratch cupcakes.
And I found that the way to badass bikers’ hearts (as well as the other guys and gals) was through their stomachs.
I had not yet tried out my biker babe apparel, but I was gearing up for it. I needed my librarian blouses and high heels as familiar armor as I got used to my new life.
But since the biker life was embracing me, and it felt good, I was preparing to embrace the biker life. Which meant donning my biker babe gear.
Just…eventually.
In other news, Mrs. Jimenez was on the move (thankfully).
Raymundo had found her a first-floor apartment in a secure building in a better part of town. The rent was more than she could afford, so her kids were all kicking in to cover it each month.
Without Mrs. Jimenez knowing it, and with my very first paycheck coming my way soon (as in, the very next day, Friday), I called Raymundo and told him I wanted to kick in my share.
He tried to argue with me, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Since he had five kids and nine nieces and nephews, he eventually gave in.
Making all this good even better, Minnie, Pinky, and Lorie often showed and hung with me in the office.
This was because Minnie and Pinky both worked as waitresses in the same biker bar and they did the nightshift, so they had the afternoons to hang with me.
Lorie was a hairdresser, and if she had a quiet morning, afternoon or day off, she hung with me too, and a couple of times, on my breaks, we went out and got coffee.
I’d never had a girl posse, and it felt good.
Okay, no.
It didn’t feel good.
It…felt…great.
And it felt better because they were looking out for me. I could ask them anything and they’d slip right into their Professor Higgins role and offer advice and guidance into the biker babe world (and yes, F-words were not verboten for biker kids, but only those in their teens).