Page 25 of Jingle Belle's Biker

“If you don’t like that, I’ll leave. I know a contract’s a contract. And we have one. And it’s straightforward. I’m guessing because you wanted to have shady shit off the books.”

“Look, Santiago,” he says, his anger making his words tight and turning his face puce. “We discussed?—”

“We discussed taking things further. I will probably use the courtyard to fix bikes until I find a place.” I pause. “So that might please you.”

It does.

His eyes light up. “You mean your friends will bring their motorcycles?”

It’s like I just told him I’m opening a titty bar in the courtyard.

“Until I find a place.”

“You can stay there.”

I almost laugh, because there would have been a time I’d negotiate to do what he’s begging from me.

And this time?

I don’t want it.

I’ll do a pop-up, rent a space. Bikers and those who want a good mechanic will come to me. They always do. But a roof over my head as it gets colder is worth it. Plus, I’m too fucking old to play at it.

“Thing is, I’ll do what I fucking want when I want to. And I just let you know, as a courtesy I’ll be in the courtyard a few days. We done?” I don’t give him a chance to respond. “Good.”

And with that, I leave.

Gravel sits drinking a beer from the six-pack he brought with him as Nomad threads through his legs. The fuck—the man, not the cat—dragged a chair from my apartment outside, and he’s smoking a joint.

There are kids here, but it’s still too early for them to come from school, so I just let him be.

Besides, it’s not my job to tell him to quit it. We’re outside, and weed doesn’t bother me. Maybe it’s something that’ll help shift residents for Hastings.

Then again, maybe not.

Weed’s not exactly hardcore. Not anymore. It’s become a constant in schools, unfortunately. Walking down the halls you can smell it and know that the kids have either just smoked it or they’ve used a vape.

Never been my thing, but to each their own. I finish cleaning the engine and sliding in the upgrade Gravel wants. “You like this town?”

“It’s a good one,” he says with a shrug. “Besides, it’s where my ex-old lady and our daughter settled.”

I shoot him a look.

“The old lady got her bike upgraded, so to speak. Money, the quiet life, an upstanding husband. He bores the living shit out of me, but she seems to be fucking happy. Each to their own.”

I nod and start to reassemble. “Yeah.”

Did Belle upgrade her life for a while with Hastings? I can see them together. The pretty teacher, if I was a fucking cynical cunt, is a perfect foil to soften the edges of what I suspect is the hard-nosed and heartless SOB businessman hiding in him.

Not really sure hiding is the right word.

Heisa businessman. One who makes no bones about ambition. But men like him like to be liked to get ahead. They like to soften the edges of their persona. They think they’ll get more for their buck that way.

I’ve seen it. How my mother’s family destroyed the club I grew up in. I’m not going to call them my family. As far as I’m fucking concerned, that starts and ends with my parents. But yeah, that lot were like Lance Hastings, nice enough with certain factions. Treated Mom sweetly. Dad and me? Like fucking shit.

Water under a long-lost bridge.

She might have upgraded for a while, but she ended it. There’s nothing telling me that apart from instinct, and I trust my instincts.

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