“So that makes, what, three bikes now?”
“Yeah, I guess. I guess I kinda like them.”
“You’re lucky you don’t have an old lady that keeps tabs on your cash. My wife, well, let’s just say I can’t buy a six pack without her texting me what I bought.”
“That’s because you buy too many six packs.”
“Yup. With good reason.” Gibs picked up a ticket with some keys and headed out to the back lot to bring in the bike.
Saks came in next. “Oh man, Gibs here first, again?”
“If you stop sweet talking the help at the coffee shop next door you’d be here earlier.” Luke laughed.
“What are you reading there?”
Luk
e flipped through the pages of the weekly shopper. “Police blotter. My favorite part.”
“Who d’you think’s going to be there?”
“Old friends,” said Luke cryptically. It was true. The period after high school was an especially tough part of his life when he fell in with a bad crowd, Satan’s Sons. He was on the outs with his parents, and the Sons provided a de facto family and the clubhouse represented a place to sleep. The problem with the Sons was that they were into hardcore drug dealing, a detail Luke did not pay enough attention to. He kept track of the Sons because he was not in good standing with them, and keeping out of their way was important to his health. He even went so far as to check the inmate database from time to time to make sure certain members were still in prison.
In fact, what happened with him and the Sons was the prime reason he went into the Navy after he got his GED. When he was half a world away, he finally felt safe for the first time in months.
“Uh-huh,” said Saks. “What d’you want me to work on?”
“The Honda.”
“Fuck.”
“Suck it up, Saks. With your talent it shouldn’t take long.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Finally, Pepper popped his head in.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry, boss.”
“You should call.”
“You’re right. But I had a little tire trouble.”
“Well, you clean the shop today.”
“Oh, man.” Pepper closed his eyes like a little kid in trouble.
“You know the rules, Pepper. Clean the shop and then work on the, let’s see, the Triumph.”
Pepper smiled and perked up instantly. “The Triumph, really?”
“Yes, it’s leaking oil.”
“Sure thing, boss,” said Pepper. The other two wouldn’t want to work on a Triumph, but he was happy to.
“Might be a weak seal. Or it could be a ring.”