“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, girlfriend.” Katie fisted her hand, offering it to Mandy in a fist bump.
“You two make my brain hurt.” Everything about this situation with Isaac fell into too many shades of gray to analyze. She shook her head, sat back, and closed her eyes. “All I know is that I can’t debate this even one more time.”
16
Isaac had just sat down and picked up a wrench when the shop’s phone rang.
He exhaled heavily and lowered his head, trying to decide whether to let it go to voice mail or answer. Then the rumble of motorcycle engines slowed out front.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. He would never grow his damn business when he couldn’t get anything done.
Isaac dropped his wrench and stood, ignoring the phone in favor of the two members of the Steel Warriors rolling into his bay.
Roach had taken one of Isaac’s older Heritage Softails on a road test with Grim. Now, the Warriors shut down their engines and Isaac met them at the center of the bay, arms crossed. “What do you think?”
Both men climbed off their bikes, and Grim and Isaac watched Roach peruse the bike again. He didn’t say anything, just inspected the exterior with squinted eyes. The man had a Zen-like temperament, silent, still, thoughtful, and Isaac wondered if his nickname was Roach because he always acted like he was high. He’d looked over every inch of the bike for twenty excruciating minutes before the ride. Isaac hoped he wasn’t in for twenty more minutes of deep, silent contemplation.
After five, Roach crouched, fiddled with a few things. After another five, he pushed to his feet with a heavy sigh.
“Here’s the thing,” Roach started.
Then never finished.
Isaac was about to prod him when Roach finally said, “This bike is a mirage.”
Isaac cut a questioning look at Grim, who shrugged, then asked Roach, “A mirage?”
“Yeah. She makes you think you’re going to get one thing, but you end up with something else,” he said with his slow, hypnotic voice. “What’s on the outside doesn’t tell the whole story.”
Isaac tried another look at Grim and got another shrug. “I told you she needs some work. Grim said you were looking for a fixer-upper.”
“I am. I am.” He walked slowly around the bike, serious and stoic and calm. “But she,” he waggled his finger at the bike, “she’s…”
“She’s…?”
“She’s a pretender. A man could get fooled by a bike like this. He could focus on her perfect impression, make a decision based on label and price, but that would only be half-truth.”
Man, he didn’t have the patience for this. “Truth of what?”
“She’s n
ot at all what I expected by the look of her or what you told me.” Roach leaned back and gestured to the bike as he laid out the issues. “The clutch slips, and the brakes are soft.”
Isaac scratched his head, sure now Roach had fried too many gray cells smoking. “I mentioned that before you took her out.”
“You did. But she also hesitates when you turn on the gas, then hiccups, like the fuel injection is gummed up. And she loses power when she’s revving up an incline.”
That sounded more problematic than Isaac had anticipated. “I haven’t ridden her since I brought her home.”
“She’s also got a few dents, and she drifts to the left. This baby has a troubled past. But you wouldn’t know by looking at her.”
Isaac shook his head. “I picked her up at an auction with five others. I don’t know the history. Look, if I had the time, I’d do the repairs myself. I’ve got her priced five hundred below Blue Book.”
“It’s not about the money.” Roach pressed his fists to the seat and lifted his gaze to Isaac’s. “It’s about integrity. She’s just not what she seems. Integrity is important to me.”
Isaac scratched his head. “Integrity.”
“Integrity. What you see is what you get. Living up to the promise you project.” Roach gestured toward the bike again. “Her guts don’t jive with her promise.”