Page 4 of Hard as Stone
I can hear the muffled snickers of my brothers behind me. This girl is making me look like a fool in front of my club. I should be furious. I should be intimidating her into letting us pass. Instead, I find myself fighting back a smile.
“Listen, sweetheart,” I lean forward on my handles and pull my sunglasses down just enough that I can meet her eyes directly. “I’ve got a pack of impatient bikers behind me who aren’t as charmed by your little act as I am. How about you do us both a favor and let us through this time?”
She leans in closer, her scent—a mix of strawberry gum and sunscreen—wafting over me. She’s close enough that I can see the light dusting of freckles across her nose.
“Listen, sugar,” she says, mimicking my tone, “I’ve got a pack of impatient construction workers behind me who aren’t as charmed by your tough act as I am. So, how about you do us both a favor and take a detour like the good boy I know you are?”
“This is the detour I’ve been taking,” I say flatly.
She presses a hand to her chest in mock sympathy. “Oh honey, I know this is probably hard for you to figure out on your own on account of all the exhaust fumes you must inhale every day. But you’re gonna need to detour the detour. Stoneheart City Council has a ton of road work they’ve asked us to do as a part of their beautification project. So you’re gonna need to be flexible so we can do our job.” She blows a bubble, letting it pop with deliberate slowness. “But hey, at least you know you’ll get to see my smiling face again. And again. And again. Something I really enjoy. You’re the highlight of my every day.”
“Do you really need to be this much of a pain in the ass?”
“It’s in the job description, sugar.” She winks. Actually winks at me. “City infrastructure doesn’t fix itself, you know.”
I look past her to where a crew is knee-deep in what looks like a fresh hole in the road. Two guys who have to be related to her—same dark hair, same shit-eating grin—are arguing over some equipment while an older man barks orders at a bunch of the Summit grunts we saw moving into the temporary housing on the old factory site.Interesting.
“You call what you’re doing here beautification?” I scoff. “It’s been a month of this shit, and so far it just looks more like you’re tearing the place apart.”
She shrugs, still grinning. “Sometimes you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet. Or, in this case, break a few roads to make a smoother ride.” She’d actually have a point if these works ever get completed.
“How much longer do we have to put up with this?”
She tilts her head, considering. “For you? Extra long. I don’t like your attitude.”
Jesus Christ. This woman is going to drive me insane.
“Listen, sweetheart?—”
“Nope.” She pops another bubble. “The name’s Poppy. And unless you’ve got a better solution for that mess back there”—she jerks a thumb at the construction—“you’re just gonna have to turn that fancy bike around and find another route, same as you have every other day.”
Poppy. It suits her—bright and delicate-looking but tough as hell to dig out once rooted.
“Come on, brother,” Lee calls. “Let the girl do her job. The old man’s waiting on us.”
I circle my bike around her slowly, taking my time. Can’t help but appreciate how those work pants hug her ass, especially when she plants her hands on her hips and glares at me like she knows exactly what I’m doing. With a muttered curse, I finally turn toward the detour, but not before catching the little victory dance she does when she thinks I’m not looking.
“The city’s up to something,” Stone, the Club President, says later, his voice carrying from his position at the head of the chapel table. “Construction contracts have gone to some new outfit nobody’s heard of. Local crews are getting shut out. And nothing’s getting done.”
“On that note, we need to add Mrs. Bryant to our list of people Summit is targeting. She stopped by the clubhouse yesterday,” Mack, our Secretary, adds, referring to the notes in front of him. “Said the council hit her with some bullshit code violations. Wants her to replace her entire front porch.” He looks back up at us. “Woman’s on a fixed income, can barely afford groceries.”
“How many residents does that make?” Stone asks.
“In this area? Fifteen in the last month, twenty-two overall.”
“Land taxes went up again last month,” Cash, the club treasurer, notes, shuffling through some papers. “Third time this year. Council’s saying it’s funding the ‘beautification project.’” The air quotes are clear in his tone.
I lean back in my chair, thinking of Poppy and her family working on the roads. They don’t look like a big operation, the fact Summit is providing extra workers proves that. But they are outsiders. Are they part of the council’s plans? Or just a bunch of schmucks caught in the middle?
Not that I care about Poppy’s family business. A month ago, my life was great—easy. Now, she’s a daily pain in my ass that I really don’t need.
“Duck says the same thing’s happening over on Cedar Street,” Lee adds. “Small businesses getting hit with violations, noise complaints. Summit keeps swooping in, offering to buy them out before they go under from all the fines.”
“You notice anything on your runs?” Stone asks me.
I shake my head. “Just a lot of road work. More than usual for this time of year. And it’s concentrated in certain areas.” I pause, thinking. “Mostly on our side of town, around the low-income housing. Nothing much closer to Main Street.”
Stone drags his fingers through his beard. “At what point in the last decade has the council bothered to fill in so much as a pothole on the west side of town?”
