Page 16 of Dodge

“I’ll figure something out and see you Thursday. This is so great, Macie. You do not know how much this means to me.”

“Just remember me when you start hiring for real. I love my place here in Asheville, but it’s getting a little too crowded for comfort.”

“Terence again?”

He sighed. “You got that in one, girlfriend. He’s been swappin’ spit with Juan at the club. Now you know I like me some kink now and then, but threesomes ain’t happenin’.”

“I hear you. Listen, I’ll make arrangements and text you a time frame. Deal?”

“You got it. Best thing you ever did was cut Chase loose. Proud of you, Fauna.”

At least one person in my life was happy for me. “Thanks, Macie. You’re the best.”

I clicked off and rushed to the door, but the three ladies had vanished. No matter.

The River’s Edge, eh?I’d finish my day, then take a much-needed shower and put on some nicer clothes. Later tonight I’d head over to the bar and see if Betsey’s offer was a real one.

CHAPTER9

Dodge pulledoff onto the dirt-and-gravel driveway leading to an old box house that sat in view of the railroad tracks. The workday in the garage dragged forever, and he was restless from the monotonous jobs. They were still shorthanded, and he had once again spent the day running oil changes, tires, and several brake disc replacements. Everyday ordinary work he could do in his sleep. His original plans were to work on the Goat this evening with the new parts that had come in, but right now, he had his dad to deal with, and even if he was tired as hell, putting it off would make it worse.

As a child, he used to think of where he grew up as a treasure hunter’s dream. Now it just looked sad. The front yard was full of old car and motorcycle parts, slowly rusting and decaying into the dust. Just like the man who lived there.

Boyer Plott came out of the building and down the three uneven porch steps to sit in a small area with a blackened firepit and two folding camp chairs.

Dodge dismounted and kicked down the stand. He hated bringing his bike to this dusty place, but it couldn’t be helped.Dirt washes off,he told himself, as he had many times in his life.

“Hey, Pop.”

The older man squinted up at his son. “Want a beer?”

Dodge shook his head. “Not now. I have stuff to do later.”

The man grunted. “Ain’t been here in a while.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to come see your old man, I guess.”

Dodge bit down on his lip. His father had a lot of practice throwing tiny guilt-trip barbs over the years. Dodge thought he’d grown immune to it, but those little darts added up, and he could still feel the sting.

Boyer dropped his eyes to his hands and picked at the dry cuticles. “Been texting you all day. Cain’t even get a reply.”

“I replied a couple of times. I told you I was working in the main garage and I’d come see you as soon as I finished.”

“I needed help here too. Guess I ain’t as important as your friends.”

There it was again. Dodge clamped down on his patience. “What do you need, Pop?”

The seated man jerked his chin to a corner of the scrappy yard. “Got them logs over yonder needs stackin’.”

Busy work. Move this pile of leaves from one end of the property to the other. Fix the sticking empty drawer in the kitchen that never gets used. Pick up all those twigs that fall in the front yard between the scattered engines and car parts. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Boyer made up work just to get Dodge to come home. The man was a stubborn old goat, but he was also a lonely one.

“I can help you get the wood pile in order.” Dodge ignored his aching back. He’d soak it with a nice long shower once he finally got home. “You ate dinner yet?”

“I’ll just heat me up a TV tray or a can a’ soup. No need to cook a meal for one.”

“Soup ain’t food. I’ll take you to town for a burger after I get the logs stacked.”

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