We make the short drive into town, and I’ll be damned if there isn’t a brick building on the main drag with a large sign that reads Custom Cycles.
Mikey parks in front, and we head inside. Ricky spots us as soon as we walk through the door.
“Noah!” Wiping his hands on a rag, he comes over and offers his hand for a shake. “I’m glad you stopped by. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Looks like you’ve got a lot to show me. Congratulations, man. When did all this happen? I knew you were wanting to do it, but I didn’t think you were planning it this soon.”
Ricky shakes his head. “I wasn’t.” The smile on his face is permanent. “I swear to God I w
as gonna tell ya, but it all happened so fast. Plus,” he says, nudging me in the arm, “I’m sure Lennon told you everything.”
Huh? “Lennon?” My eyes move from Ricky’s bright-ass smile to Mikey’s grin. “What does Lennon have to do with all this?”
I look around to find boxes strewn about and tools and equipment lying all over the floor. It’s obvious he still has a lot of work to do.
“She didn’t tell you?” Ricky asks, his smile finally faltering. “Shit,” he hisses. “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to tell you either.”
“Tell me what?” I ask, growing frustrated.
Ricky looks to Mikey for guidance, but Mikey throws his hands up. “Just tell him, man.”
“She’s gonna fucking kill me, isn’t she?”
“Probably not,” Mikey says. “She’s already invested this much. If you’re dead, you’re no good to her.”
Ricky glares at Mikey and then turns to me. “Remember that night I saw you at The Loading Dock?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I ran into Lennon outside of the bathrooms, and she asked me about Dad’s old shop. She said she wanted to see some of my designs, so we exchanged emails, and I sent her some photos.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I shake my head. “And…”
He shrugs. “And the rest is history.”
“What am I missing?”
Ricky holds up his finger. “Hold on. I have something you have to see.”
He disappears into the back of the building, and I turn to Mikey. “Why in the world would she invest in a motorcycle shop? She knows nothing about motorcycles. And no offense to Ricky, but she doesn’t even know him.”
Mikey claps a hand on my shoulder. “Because of you, Noah. She did this for you. She trusts you. Lennon is an investor. That’s what rich people do. You talked Ricky up, and she believed you and trusted you, so she went with it.”
“She told you all that?”
“Nah.” Mikey shakes his head. “But she told Charlotte.”
My jaw nearly hits the fucking floor, but Ricky returns before I can ask anything else.
“Here.” Ricky jogs toward me. “Check this out.”
He hands me a piece of paper with a computerized drawing of the custom bike I’ve discussed with him.
“What is this?”
“That’s your bike.” Ricky shoots Mikey a look. “Is he for real?”
“Be patient,” Mikey says, laughing. “He’s processing a lot right now, and I’m guessing any minute he’s gonna lose his shit.”