Twisted chassis, p.3
Twisted Chassis, page 3
Now, as he knocked on the bay doors of the shop with two hoagies in a brown paper sack and cold sodas to accompany them, he hoped he was about to be given his first bit of good news all day.
The rumble of the door rising to admit him proceeded a view of his baby having been stripped of several parts already, but he could still see them, on a cloth lined table behind the bike, all lined up neatly beneath a clipboard hanging from a chain. Haven stood just inside the door, eying him just as cautiously has he had earlier.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Maddox said. “I brought hoagies from the shop next door to the bank. Figured I might as well hear the news about my girl on a full stomach.”
Haven’s eyes lit up at that. “Oh man, hoagies from The Blue Star Diner? That place was always awesome. How much do I owe you?”
“Not a goddamned thing,” Maddox said as he crossed the bay to get a closer look at his Harley while Haven headed for the degreaser and started cleaning his hands.
“Ignition coil and spark plug damage were the main cause of her not starting,” Haven explained as he continued cleaning up.
“Wait, you have her starting again, already?”
“No, sorry. She turns over now, but she runs rough, like somethings wrong in her guts. There’s a lot of grinding. Not sure what’s causing it yet, but I’m sure I’ll have to dig broken bits out of something once I start going through her components. Fortunately, the repair manuals and diagnostic schematics have all been digitalized, making it a bit easier to start eliminating potential issues.”
“Hey, don’t apologize for progress, that’s better than I expected. Honestly, after the day I’ve had, it’s exactly what I needed to hear,” Maddox admitted. “I know I came off like an asshole earlier and for that I’m sorry. This old girl has seen me through a lot and I’m not ashamed to admit that there is a hell of a lot of sentimental value wrapped up in all that metal. She’s not just a machine to me.”
“She’s more like an extension of who you are,” Haven muttered, head ducked as his cheeks flushed a little.
“Exactly. See, you get it.”
His words elicited an honest to god smile, as the caution in Haven’s eyes finally began to dim. He dragged a second chair over to the wooden table in the corner where a four pack of chocolate chip muffins sat, one compartment empty, beside a small bottle of apple juice. He moved both off to the side while Maddox set the drinks and hoagies on the table alongside the bottle of Jack Daniels he’d picked up from the liquor store.
“I don’t know about you, but I could use a stiff drink after the day I’ve had.”
“I…umm,” Haven stammered, shrugging and squirming and looking all kinds of adorably uncomfortable.
“Problem?” Maddox asked, realizing, belatedly, that there was a very real chance that while he was free, he might still be on probation and unable to indulge in anything, though if that was the case, he doubted he’d be able to work there when the three businesses: repair shop, gas station and dispensary, were in the same building.
“Never had the hard stuff before,” Haven admitted reluctantly. “The most I’ve ever drank were a few beers and a couple hard ciders.”
Well, that was an unexpected twist. Even knowing he’d been a juvenile when he’d been locked up hadn’t given Maddox a reason to pause when he’d picked the bottle, after all, he’d gotten into his old man’s liquor cabinet before he’d been old enough to get his learners permit, just like most of the kids he’d run around with. He’d never once considered that Haven hadn’t, especially not with the trouble he’d gotten himself into.
Yet another question to add to the list piling up in his head, but the last thing he intended to do was start grilling his new mechanic. He’d save the questions for when he was back at the apartment he and Archer were currently sharing. Right now, he was rethinking his offering as much as Haven seemed to be thinking about whether he wanted a taste of it or not.
Haven sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m curious, but I never liked the way I felt when I was drunk. Weed was always a different story; I’d smoke a little and dial into whatever it was I was trying to take apart or put back together. Pops would have to order me to go to bed so I wouldn’t be a pain in the ass in the morning, his words, not mine. Mine were always complaints about why I couldn’t drop out when all I really wanted to do was come to the shop with him every morning.”
“Here?” Maddox asked.
Haven nodded. “Yup. I practically grew up here. Mom ran the gas station, and the dispensary side was a liquor store. My folks rented the space out to the people who ran it, and they lived upstairs in the apartment River and I are living in now. The school we went to is just three blocks away. Every time I cut, which was more times than I could keep count of, I’d wind up here. It got to be a game between me and Pops to see how long I could work on something before he realized that I was there.”
“What’s the longest you went?”
“Fouty-seven minutes. I was elbows deep in an old Chevy Nova when he tapped me on the shoulder and asked which class I’d walked out on that time.”
“And which one was it?”
“Western Civilization,” Haven replied once he’d finished chewing the bite he’d taken from his sandwich. “Ohhhh yum. Holy shit, this is better than I remember. How’d you know I liked garlic aioli on my turkey club instead of mayonnaise?”
Haven hummed happily as he took another bite, eyelids drooping to half-mast as he let out a contented little sigh. It took Maddox a moment to realize that what was causing the little table to rock was Haven kicking his feet while he chewed.
The first thought that entered Maddox’s mind was sinfully adorable, then he berated himself for the lustful images that popped in his head while he stared at his mentee’s younger brother
“Archer told me.”
All softness and vulnerability faded, replaced by a ridged spine and an immediate halt to his feet swinging. Even Haven’s sounds of appreciation fell silent in the wake of Maddox’s announcement, one he could have kicked himself for making the moment the words left his mouth.
“How do you know each other?” Haven asked, a wariness having crept into those watchful turquoise eyes, leaving him looking guarded and a little troubled as he started picking at his sandwich.
“It tastes better when it’s all together,” Maddox commented when Haven pulled a tomato slice from between the meat and took a bite, his gaze on something just to the left of Maddox’s head.
Another time, another place and Maddox would have turned, hand automatically reaching for his inner vest pocket to remove whatever weapon he had hidden there. Now, though, he saw it for what it was: Haven attempting to keep his head up while still being able to avoid making eye contact.
When he plucked a pickle free, Maddox decided to drop the issue for now and give him answers before he disassembled the whole hoagie.
“Your brother came into my shop about five years ago looking for a job,” Maddox admitted. “He had no skills relating to the business, but he knew every damned strain of weed, what it did, its strength and what previous strains it was derived from. I still had to look up most of that shit when I was developing a product, but he was like a walking encyclopedia. I decided to teach him what I needed him to know to man the storefront. In exchange, he saved me a lot of time with his knowledge. He took to my instructions like a pig to mud and has never made me regret taking the time to teach him.”
He had Haven’s attention, though that poor hoagie was rapidly being reduced to just toasted bread. Still, Maddox decided to forge ahead and keep telling the story, pleased that Haven was at least nibbling on the components of his sandwich.
“When we outgrew that first store and moved into a bigger building where we were finally able to hire employees, I made him the manager. It freed me up to keep creating new varieties of the products we already sold, while also developing new merchandise to feature in the shop. We built a loyal customer base. By keeping things fresh and constantly changing up our line to reflect the shifting seasons, we grew to the point where we decided that Charles and Gemma, the married couple who’d been working there for years, should be promoted to managers. Then they doubled down and bought in, just like Archer, which made all three of them part owners in the company. Charles and Gemma will continue to tend to the old store while we kickstart a new one here.”
“Does that mean you guys will be leaving once you’ve found someone to turn this store over to?” Haven asked.
The question was part curious, part hesitant and said with a wistfulness that was impossible to miss. Whatever damage existed between the siblings, Haven still sounded like a kid brother hoping the older sibling he looked up to wouldn’t be going off and staying away for long.
“No,” Maddox said, studying him as Haven nibbled at the edge of a piece of lettuce like a rabbit seeing out the juiciest bite. “I liked what I saw when I came to Foggy Basin. Out in Acacia City, everything was always loud, always moving, It was enough to make a guy paranoid when he stepped out of work and was assaulted with honking horns and constant whirs of motion.”
“Wait…Your shop was in Acacia?”
“Yeah.”
Haven shook his head, a furious look darkening his features, chasing all that adorable inquisitiveness away. It took a moment, then Maddox realized he’d put his foot in his mouth again, forgetting that six miles outside of the city was the Acacia Medium Security Prison.
Chapter 4
Brazen Baiting Methods
“You’re back,” Haven groaned as he straightened up from where he’d been bent over the transmission of the Electra Glyde, back protesting how long he’d been in that position trying to extract a severely dented gear. Not only was it mashed on one side, but several of the teeth had broken and the ring on the inside had snapped, meaning the force of the impact had to be significant. It was only a miracle that he hadn’t detected anything wrong with the frame yet. The machine was in sorry shape, and with his morning full of other repairs and interviews for the two people who’d applied for the office manager position, it had been nothing but bullshit before he’d been able to immerse himself in the bike.
Neither applicant was acceptable, something he’d made clear to Meadow and River the moment the second one had walked out the door.
“Look, no offense, but I need someone in here who knows at least a little bit about cars, not a glorified secretary,” Haven explained. “That first one didn’t know anything about the repair process and had never used this type of inventory software before. The second one talks too fuckin’ much. I do not need a manager who is going to waste all my time peppering me with questions when I need to be under the hood working shit out. And seriously, what the fuck was she wearing? Who comes to a job interview dressed like that? This isn’t club night at The Cuff, this is a fucking workplace. Could you imagine what mom would have done if Pops had hired someone like that when this was his shop? She’d have gone ballistic.”
“Okay, but they were married, and this isn’t Pops’ shop anymore,” Meadow pointed out. “It’s yours, though I’ve gotta agree about the outfit, it was a bit much, as was the way she kept asking you questions that had nothing to do with what her duties would be. The first one was teachable though.”
“I don’t want teachable,” Haven grumbled. “I want someone who can handle the customers and leave me the fuck alone. Is that so hard to understand? I need someone who knows what questions to ask when it comes to turbo boost systems and Anti-lock brakes.”
“Fine. I’ll tell the paper to keep running the ad,” Meadow relented. “But you’re going to have to start dealing with the purchase orders this week and help River man the gas station after four. Breezy starts dance class on Tuesday and August’s after school Lego group is about to start up again. I don’t know how I’m going to be in two places at once, but I know I can’t be in three, so you need to figure this office manager thing out.”
“I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows someone with some mechanical knowledge who also needs a job,” River offered. “Maybe one of my regulars can point us in the right direction.”
“Thanks. I’ve got to hit Jeremy’s old man up about a couple parts, so I’ll ask him to keep an ear out too,” Haven said. “With any luck, he already knows somebody.”
“Just make sure they’re not going to scare the crap out of the clientele,” Meadow remarked.
“You mean like Vampzillia, ‘cause that was a whole ass heart attack waiting to happen if one of the older ladies had gotten a look at her.”
“Okay, you may have a point there,” Meadow conceded. “Just keep in mind that skull tattoos and mohawks tend to have the same effect.”
“Point taken,” Haven grumbled, before turning and heading back to the relative silence of his shop, pausing only to rub the ears of the black and white tuxedo cat who was once again sprawled across the table where he kept his work orders.
That was hours ago.
His lower back cramped and protested every effort he made to straighten up completely, until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and another right in the center of the sore, throbbing area. He hissed and tried to twist away as Maddox began rubbing.
“Easy now,” Maddox muttered as he continued to work out the tight kinks along the base of Haven’s spine. “Just relax and let me help before you hurt yourself more than you already have.”
The big tuxedo cat hissed in his direction, its green eyes blinking around sleepily as he sought out what had disturbed his slumber.
“Right back at you,” Haven grumbled.
“Where’d he come from?” Maddox asked, his voice low and rumbly in Haven’s ear as he continued to rub his heel in a slow circle, loosening up the muscles in his lumbar area and allowing him to straighten up a little more.
“Fucked if I know, but he seems to like being in here than he liked being out there, so I guess the shop has a new mascot.”
“With wicked murder mittens for claws if the back of your hand is any indication.”
“We had a brief tussle over a tuna fish sandwich.”
“I see,” Maddox replied. “Who won?”
“It was a tie. He got half and I got half. I got him a couple cans of sardines and some tuna of his own for supper along with some catnip toys and that seemed to mellow him out some.”
“You have a name for him yet?”
“Sort of,” Haven admitted. “I’m stuck between The Notorious S.O.X. since it looks like he’s got white socks on each paw and he sure as hell has an attitude, and Tux, since it kind of looks like he’s wearing a tuxedo.”
“You name him Tux, and everyone will think you named him after a hemorrhoid product,” Maddox pointed out. “Talk about giving the cat a complex.”
“Dude, the cat wouldn’t have a clue what the hell anyone was talking about.”
“Do you really wanna take that risk?” Maddox asked as he glanced over at the big cat who was currently licking his tail. “He already looks like he might scratch someone’s face off at the slightest provocation.”
“Guess you’d better not provoke him then.”
“Just keep him away from my paintjob.”
Haven snorted at that and turned his head, trying to meet Maddox’s eyes, but with his hand still holding Haven in place, all he managed to do was crack his neck in a very satisfactory manner.
“Ouch,” Maddox muttered.
“Naa man, that felt good,” Haven admitted with a low, rumbling sigh.
The massage was seriously starting to feel good too, so he braced his arms on the table and let Maddow continue to work his magic, even angling his head a little, so Maddox could work his way up to his achy shoulders and neck.
“Your paintjob is already seriously fucked,” Haven murmured. “Anything he does to it is likely to be an improvement.”
Chuckling, Maddox couldn’t deny that he had a point there. “Yeah, it’s gonna be a bitch to find someone who can restore her colors.”
“Not necessarily. I know a guy who might be able to help with that, I just need to talk to him first and see if his old club brother still handles custom paintjobs,” Haven said. “If you’ve got pictures of her from before she was wrecked, it would help if you sent them to my phone, that way I can show Dizzy what you’re looking for.”
“Old club brother, huh?” Maddox murmured. “Does that mean your friend is an outlaw?”
“Sometimes.”
“What club?”
“Why?”
“You’re really going to ask me why I want to know the affiliation of the person you want to have mess with my ride?” Maddox asked, hands stilling on Haven’s body.
“Guess I’m curious as to why it matters,” Haven asked. “I don’t see any ink on you.”
“And you won’t, unless I want you too.”
“Ohh.”
“Yeah, so before you go getting me mixed up with someone who might have beef with my old club, I’ve got questions.”
“Fair enough. He was in the Disciples of Destruction.”
“You know his road name?”
“Chaos.”
“Yeah, okay, I know the name. I know the club, there shouldn’t be an issue,” Maddox replied. “You can show him the machine but hold off on telling him whose it is. I want to have a face to face with him and his buddy before any work gets done.”
“I’ll see what I can arrange,” Haven offered. “Gotta find a few more parts first or there won’t be anything to paint but some twisted metal.”
“That’s not a good look on her.”
“No, it isn’t. She just looks sad right now and that’s a real shame. An old girl like this should be treated like the piece of art she is, not a punching bag.”
