Page 32 of Fast and Dirty

“I’d say my attitude is pretty fucking in line with what you assholes are putting me through!” Ryan bitches some more as he marches over to the utility sink. He turns the water on full blast and dips his grease-smeared face under the faucet, while I chuckle from the computer. “Isn’t this some kind of endangerment?” He sputters between dousings. “I got dangerous chemicals in my eyes!”

“First of all, flush your eyes out and you’ll be fine,” I chide, not taking my eyes off the screen where I’m itemizing Dr. Speedman’s service invoice. “Second of all, be thankful that was clean oil that leaked all overyour face. Third,-”

“Third, this is fucking bullshit!” Ryan cuts me off, straightening up with a roar, droplets of water flying from his hair as he tosses it back. “You’re pulling this shit to just fucking torture me because you’re an asshole!”

“Third,” I resume my tirade while abruptly shoving the computer cart away and turning on him. “You were properly trained to use protective eyewear, and to replace the fucking drain plug before the new oil is poured in!” I stalk over to him. “You’re doing this shit to yourself, you fucking moron!” I shout back.

Before my temper at his infantile shit can turn into my own immature tantrum, I turn away from his stunned face and draw in a long breath. I let it out before placing my hands on my hips and turning back to him. “You don’t like it, go scrub the toilets at Donna’s because that’s the only place that’s going to have you. You’ve managed to alienate everyone in this town.”

Ryan continues to stand there, his breath still heaving with effort, while water and oil drizzle trails down his face.

“Clean up and try again,” I order calmly as I walk by him in the direction of my office.

“Damn boss.” Razor lets out a sigh of amusement as he turns slowly on his stool, tracking my journey to the office. “Yeah, why don’t you go have a Snickers and change your maxi pad?”

I flip him off without a look.

I let out a breath as I slump down in my chair and throw my heavy boots up on my desk crossing one ankle over the other. Grabbing a toothpick out of the small cup on my desk I place it in the corner of my mouth and rest my head back; talking myself down.

Ryan Collins is the unfortunate spawn of Hunt’s dad having an affair but he slapped the proverbial badge of shame on himself. He acts like an ass because he thinks that’s what people expect of him but has never stopped to consider that no one put him in that pigeonhole but himself. But I’ll be damnedif he thinks he can treat women the way he treated Kira that night, and be as rude as he is to anyone for that matter.

I have dinner with Kaleb Shane and his wife on occasion and they’ve had a story or two of Ryan stirring shit up and getting his rocks off to it.

My fired up state of mind has me craving a new remedy all of a sudden. I seriously wouldn’t mind hanging with Kira right now. Not even to have sex, though I’d never turn that down. The idea of getting to know her more and see how she’s getting on makes a pleasant calm settle over me.

I’m just thinking of calling her to see how her day is going when I get a visitor.

“Fuckin slacker,” I hear a gravelly timbre snap me out of my mental repose, and speak of the fucking devil, I see Kaleb himself standing on the other side of my desk.

I chuckle warmly at his greeting. “Hey, what’s happening?”

“You tell me,” he smirks and gestures out towards the bays. “You hired Ryan Collins? I believe that goes against our agreement that you’d run this shop with the respect it deserves.”

“Call it an intervention for the town asshole,” I return, giving the toothpick in my mouth a flick, discarding it in the wastecan below my desk. “He’s heavily supervised, I assure you.”

“He barely graduated by the skin of his teeth, and now he’s going to run himself out of town,” he laments.

“So what are you doing here?” I ask, dropping my feet back down and sitting forward, ready to accommodate.

“Nothing, just making an appointment with Razor to get the clutch on my bike replaced,” he fills me in as he takes a seat across from me.

“I can help you with that,” I lean forward and wake up my computer to bring up the schedule. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get the previous owner’s discount,” I toss at him.

“Oh thanks,” his green eyes light up with sarcasm. “But what am I supposed to do with that extra four dollars?” He jokes, ducking the paperclip I throw at him.

“What happened to no one works on your bike but you?” I counter, referring to the fact that he salvaged and restored that Harley all on his own.

He shakes his head, as in disbelief. “The parlor has really picked up speed.” The art gallery he runs with Luna, his wife in the city. It’s been doing well, and they’ve managed a schedule that doesn’t have them going back and forth too much.“ Hasn’t left me much time.”

“That’s great news,” I congratulate him as I tap away on the keyboard. It’s hard to believe he’s married and runs a business at his age. Granted, I’m only six or so years older than he is and I’ve owned the shop only a hair longer than he’s had his gallery.

“It’s called a dipstick, Dipshit!” Jackson bellows .

Kaleb and I collapse into laughter.

“That’s uh…” he speaks between laughs. “One hell of a character-building program you’ve got going on in there!”

I get him set up with an appointment for Razor to work on his bike the following week and tell him to buy his pretty wife a latte on the way home.

---