“A week? I can take one of the spare bikes; you can start on it today. If you have what you need.”
Prez looked excited; he had to be to let Max have his bike for a whole week.
“Yeah, I have enough to start stripping the bike parts that I intend to paint, clean them up, and prepare them. By the time I have some ready, this room should be finished. Have the paints arrived?”
“Yes, I picked them up from the paint shop. He gave me a call to say the parcel was here.” I had talked to Pete at the shop, and he promised to call me whenever her parcels arrived. He doesn’t stock the specialized paints that Max wanted, and was using him as a middleman between the supplier and her. She orders online and has it sent to him. He was going to charge her, until I arrived at his office and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse; he was not a gang member affiliated in any way. We did use him a lot, but that can change quickly. As one of the town’s larger stakeholders, we could easily make it difficult for him to run a thriving business. He got the picture rather quickly.
The Prez wheeled his bike to the corner where Max wanted it and left it with her, promising not to check on her every two seconds, her insistence, not his. She didn’t want him breathing down her neck. The Prez also had one of the bikes he wanted her to repair brought in, and placed in a different section, having understood that while his paint dried, she would work on other bikes, doing repairs or rebuilds. She actually stood up against him, and I think that impressed him enough to back down. Few would go toe to toe with him.
“I will get onto this tomorrow. It’s time to go help the girls in the kitchen,” Max said as she placed a cover over the bike and picked up her laptop.
“No, your job is not in the kitchen.” The Prez said as he barred her way.
“But you said when I first came here, that I would be working with the girls, their jobs at the moment were in the kitchen.” She started to argue back.
The Prez gave an exaggerated sigh.
“The ladies do not have other jobs; their primary function was to do the little things that kept the base working. Your job was to keep the men on the road, two different types of work. I don’t expect you to put a full day working on our bikes and then cook and clean. You would burn yourself out in no time at all.” This sounded more like Cricket and Sticks had been in his ear.
“Fine, but if the girls kick up a stink, you are the one to deal with it, you know how much they hate favorites, and by singling me out, will make them feel they’re not getting a fair deal.” She argued back, her hands on her hips. The few guys who came into the workshop to see how it was progressing and a general sticky beak, couldn’t back out quickly enough.
The Prez left, looking like he just won a battle, he would go back to doing whatever he was doing in a better frame of mind, what Max was going to do to his bike, would be magic, no one would doubt it belonged to him, it will include the gangs logo in several places, I am jealous, and hope mine will get a turn fairly quickly, maybe I can pull the “my woman” gig over them, and jump the queue. One can only hope.
“What do you need me to do?” I asked Max as she started moving things around and organising the paint room.
The room had two parts: one where she painted, and one where she kept the paints and mixers.
The prep room, so to speak. Plus, in the prep room, she could do the pre-work, like transferring the sketch onto the tanks or whatever part was being painted, before the main painting was done.
Can we make an office over there?” She pointed to the side of the paint room.
“You sure?” I had thought she would want to be closer to the main door.
“Yes, good air flow, and love that huge window, good lighting.” I couldn’t argue with her choice; it had everything she suggested.
“We can set it up there, and if you want it moved later, we can do that too. It might take a while to find your footing. I can put a wall here, so you can have it locked.” I pointed out where we could make it work. The guys and I have done this sort of thing for years, moving rooms about in the clubhouse, setting up homes for those not living on the grounds, and building houses further back on our grounds for those who don’t want to live in town.
I helped her for the next hour, reorganising the paint prep room, which I was now calling the room.
Then Cricket’s voice was heard.
“You in here? Maxi Max.” I loved the nickname Sticks and Cricket gave Max, and she didn’t seem to mind it.
“Back here,” Max called back, and soon Cricket’s face peeked in the room.
“Wow, you have converted this shed into something spectacular. It’s hard to believe it’s the same shed.” Cricket squealed out in her too-high-pitched voice, which she got when she was excited.
“It’s Maxine’s workshop now.” I corrected her, causing a smile on her face.
“Sure is, honey. Anyway, get that cute tooshie of yours in the house, food on the table.” Cricket clapped Maxine’s arm and virtually dragged her out the door.
“Coming, you didn’t need to carry me out.” Maxine laughed as she almost tripped over something on the ground, trying to keep up with the pace that Cricket had set.
I strode quickly behind and caught her before she hit the floor, and gave a glare at Cricket, who had at least looked chagrined.
The kitchen was complete, and all the patch members were here, which was strange; it’s rare to have them all here unless there was a”Plates to the main room,” Bruis noticed the doors were closed.
But, summoning us all to the club room. I entered and
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.