Page 115 of Devilish Ink

“I’ve gotta go, baby, a customer just showed up.”

And from the looks of it, a customer with money. Hope lifted my spirits.

At the edge of the open garage door stood a tall silhouette against the glare of the hazy afternoon sun.

I weaved through the toolboxes and stripped frames on shadowed winches. I blinked against the sun as I came to stand in front of him, shielding my eyes with one hand.

“What can I do for you?”

The man stepped forward, came into view and his expensive cologne hit my nose, sharp and woody.

The second thing I noticed as he shook my hand was a smile. It seemed a little too big. A little too warm. It seemed to linger a bit too long as I asked what brought him in today.

He pointed at me with a beefy finger and eyed me with that same smile. “I like you. Yes, I think I’m getting just the right impression from you. I think you’rejustthe man for the job.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I said. “But I’m not sure I can in good faith agree with you since you still haven’t told me an iota of what exactly that job is.”

The man clapped his hands together in front of his chest, the single gold signet ring on his pinky winking in the sun.

“I want what every man wants. I want something beautiful. Something rare. I want something…” he laughed, “I want something that I probably shouldn’t have business at all wanting.”

His wink turned my stomach.

The stranger snapped his fingers and then slipped them into the breast pocket of his tailored jacket. He handed me a glossy page with a picture of an old classic Harley and below it, a mocked-up custom restoration, a royal blue beast I could hardly see past the theoretical dollar signs.

“She is a beauty,” I said, nodding.

The man had that same big, childish grin on his face when I looked back up at him. His beefy finger tapped the drawing, the idealisation, the future “after” photo.

“I need your help getting to her. Making her mine. You cantell the old girl is stubborn, but I think you hold the key to transforming her into exactly what I want.”

I stared across at him. He licked his lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to ride her,” he said. “How many nights I’ve dreamed of only her. Tearing her apart, putting her back together. Hearing her purr. Hearing her scream. Knowing I have full control of her.”

His choice of words was…strange. There was something about this guy that seemed a bit too slick.

“And you want me to handle the restoration?” I said slowly.

“Exactly,” the man said. “I need you. I want you. In fact, you’re the reason I came here in the first place. I need a man who knows these machines. I’ll pay a lot of money foryou.”

He could have said just about anything and I would have turned him down. Politely suggested he try somewhere else. Insisted that I could be of no use to him. But he spoke that magic word.

Money.

And what was more: alotof it.

I hesitated for only as long as it took to smack my lips. “Let’s go talk in the office.”

In the office his eyes darted everywhere. He lingered before sinking into the chair opposite mine.

I figured it was fair enough: you want to make sure you’re dealing with someone who has his shite together.

I hastily cleared my space. Pushed aside coffee and my phone and keys.

“I didn’t get your name,” I said as I scooted in toward the desk.

The man moved his eyes slowly from my little mess at the corner. “Peter.”

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