“Any coffee?” barked Gibs.
Luke nodded toward the pot while he counted the cash receipts again. Most days his deposits consisted of checks. The credit cards were processed automatically. Yesterday, however, a customer paid in cash. He screwed up his face and counted the cash again. He couldn’t be twenty dollars short. Luke was more careful with cash than that.
“When?” asked Gibs. He pointed to a calendar with a swimsuit model hanging predominately on the wall. It was big, eighteen by twenty-four, with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed babe straddling a hog. She was leaning forward, her eyes gleaming, and her tits hanging over the gas tank.
When Gibs asked “when” he was asking when Luke would take it down. It was an old joke. The calendar was five years old, but Luke refused to replace it.
“When you can pry it from my cold, dead hands,” replied Luke with a smile.
“Huh.” Gibs stared at the repair tickets hanging in transparent plastic folders from coffee cup hooks on the wall. “What do you want me to start with?”
“The Suzuki,” Luke said without looking up.
“Fucking rice burner,” mumbled Gibs.
“This isn’t the seventies anymore, Gibs. We don’t call them rice burners anymore.”
“Not the seventies?” Gibs scratched his head. “When did I lose a decade?”
“Every day, Gibs, every day. Now the Suzuki.”
“Okay, but afterwards I do the Dyna Glide.”
Luke shook his head. The 2000 Dyna Glide was nearly a classic, and Gibs had a nostalgia for the twin V-engine models. “Sure, whatever keeps you happy.”
Pepper, then Saks, rolled in, and Luke handed off other assignments. Pepper was a dark-skinned Latino, but since he objected to being called Pepi, they called him Pepper instead. Luke tried to tell him that nicknames were part of motorcycle culture. He explained that his own nickname ‘Spade’ had to do with an unfortunate incident with a shovel, but Pepper would respond with, “I’m just here to work.”
Saks’ real name was Anthony Parks, but since he came to work each day dressed in dress slacks and a button-down, he earned the name Saks for Saks 5th Avenue. Of his workers, Gibs and Saks were members of the same motor club, Hades’ Spawn. Much of Luke’s business came from the club.
“What about the Dyna Glide?” asked Saks.
“You know the rules. Gibs got here first. He got to pick. Next time you get in before him and you can pick what you want.”
This little rule he set up when he first set up shop and got regular mechanics saved him countless headaches when portioning out the work. He chose the first round, and after, the guys picked what they wanted in order of their appearance at work. It motivated them to get in at a decent hour.
He couldn’t figure where he went short twenty bucks. If he didn’t have other things to do, he’d track it down, but as it was, he probably miscounted when he received the money yesterday.
Luke shook his head. He certainly was off his game yesterday. While driving home from picking up a part in New Haven on I-91 he could have sworn he saw Emily when he passed a black Honda Civic. But that couldn’t be. As far as he knew, Emily was living in California, where she went to college. Still it shook him, the memories of that time, ten years ago when he was younger, and considerably thinner.
Luke glanced up at the calendar, of the girl that reminded him so much of Emily, his Emily. Not in attitude, no. His Emily was never so brazen. She was sweet, kind and loving. Until, of course, he fucked it all up and lost her forever.
He didn’t know why he couldn’t shake thoughts of her. It was over and done, ten years ago. But there was one thing that was true. No woman since compared to her, and he suspected no woman ever would.
Luke, iPad in hand, went through the inventory of stock items for his shop, and clicked his stylus against it.
“Hey, did someone use a Honda oil filter and not put it down on the ticket?”
A round of “no mans” came from the crew. However, before he could say something, a familiar figure walked into the repair bay. Luke quickly greeted him, throwing his arm around him. He steered him out of the garage. People were always walking into the garage, but the insurance company had their regulations, so Luke did his best to move them out, in a friendly way, of course.
“Aces! Good to see you, man.”
The vice president of the Hades’ Spawn club clapped his shoulder.
“Need to talk to you, man. And it’s some serious shit, so I’m talking to all the club members.”
“Shall I?” Luke motioned to the repair bays, intending to call over Gibs and Saks.
“Naw. I’ll catch them at the clubhouse later. You, though, are always working.”