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A Trick of Fate
“That was a great ride.” Gibs poured himself a cup of coffee. It was Monday morning, two days after the latest Saturday ride. They drove down by the Connecticut shore, stopping at Hammonasset State Park and took a walk on the beach. Of course, it was still too cold to do much other than walk around, but it was still nice to hear the waves on the beach. Some of the club walked out on the jetty, a line of boulders that jutted out in the water, which was a small adventure. The rocks are huge and uneven spaced so it did not make for an easy walk. Plus, you had to keep an eye on the tide. If you stayed on the rocks too long the water would roll in and cover the furthest end of the jetty.
“Thanks.” Luke reached for a mug as well. “I think we should think about going out on one of those fishing boats for the day.”
“I don’t know if the guys would go for that.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. We should do something different.”
Gibs sniffed. “That’s a sweet ride you got there.”
Luke smiled. He was proud of his new bike, a 2015 CVO Road Glide Ultra. It was the perfect touring bike, and with a solid “bitch” seat with a backrest, he hoped Deirdre would give up her fear of riding to come out on a road trip with him. Things were still shaky with her, but he was hoping they could work things out. If she shared a little more of his world he thought they could.
“So that makes, what, three bikes now?”
“Yeah, I guess. I guess I kinda like them.”
“You’re lucky you don’t have an old lady that keeps tabs on your cash. My wife, well, let’s just say I can’t buy a six pack without her texting me what I bought.”
“That’s because you buy too many six packs.”
“Yup. With good reason.” Gibs picked up a ticket with some keys and headed out to the back lot to bring in the bike.
Saks came in next. “Oh man, Gibs here first, again?”
“If you stop sweet talking the help at the coffee shop next door you’d be here earlier.” Luke laughed.
“What are you reading there?”
Luke flipped through the pages of the weekly shopper. “Police blotter. My favorite part.”
“Who d’you think’s going to be there?”
“Old friends,” said Luke cryptically. It was true. The period after high school was an especially tough part of his life when he fell in with a bad crowd, Satan’s Sons. He was on the outs with his parents, and the Sons provided a de facto family and the clubhouse represented a place to sleep. The problem with the Sons was that they were into hardcore drug dealing, a detail Luke did not pay enough attention to. He kept track of the Sons because he was not in good standing with them, and keeping out of their way was important to his health. He even went so far as to check the inmate database from time to time to make sure certain members were still in prison.
In fact, what happened with him and the Sons was the prime reason he went into the Navy after he got his GED. When he was half a world away, he finally felt safe for the first time in months.
“Uh-huh,” said Saks. “What d’you want me to work on?”
“The Honda.”
“Fuck.”
“Suck it up, Saks. With your talent it shouldn’t take long.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Finally, Pepper popped his head in.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry, boss.”
“You should call.”
“You’re right. But I had a little tire trouble.”
“Well, you clean the shop today.”
“Oh, man.” Pepper closed his eyes like a little kid in trouble.
“You know the rules, Pepper. Clean the shop and then work on the, let’s see, the Triumph.”
Pepper smiled and perked up instantly. “The Triumph, really?”
“Yes, it’s leaking oil.”
“Sure thing, boss,” said Pepper. The other two wouldn’t want to work on a Triumph, but he was happy to.
“Might be a weak seal. Or it could be a ring.”
“You got it. No problem.”
Luke wished other people in his life had the same philosophy because from the front window of the shop he saw Deirdre pull up in her red mustang. From the look on her face she wasn’t happy. Shit. He thought he’d smoothed things over with her since the last disaster at his apartment. He wondered what was bothering her now.
Deirdre came in the office through the front door, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and her long, blue jean-clad legs walking in a pair of high red stilettos. She took off her designer sunglasses and gave him a serious look. “Luke.”
“Hi, Babe, what’s up?”
“Have you made a decision? About Saturday?”
Ah, double shit. That stupid wedding thing. Again. He’d already given her a response. But Deirdre being Deirdre didn’t take “no” for an answer.
“I told you, Dee, Saturday’s road trip day. I’m Road Captain. It’s my job to make sure all the logistics are worked out.”
“It’s one Saturday.”
“I told you upfront, from the day the roads are clear of ice and snow until it flies again, Saturdays are spoken for.”
“My sister only gets married once.”
Luke knew that wasn’t true. This was sis’ second marriage. He figured it best to keep silent on this point. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t go.”
“I’d like my boyfriend to be with me.” Her hands went to her hips.
Bad sign. Luke pinched his nose with his fingers. He didn’t want to fight with her. “This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”
“It never is, is it?”
“This is my place of business, Deirdre. We’ll talk about this later.”
“No, we’ll talk about it now.”
Luke saw his crew had moved to the center of the work bay, shooting glances to the door that led to his office. Luke walked over, and shut the door firmly. “Deirdre, don’t do this here now.” Luke was beginning to feel some heat now. He pointed to the door to the work bay. “My employees are out there listening to every word, and customers can walk in any minute. Go home. I’ll call you later.”
“No! You’ve dodged this since I asked you. Are you going with me or not?”
He inhaled a sharp breath. “You’re pressing me for an answer now? You already know it. It’s no. I’m not going with you. Take anyone you want, but I’m not going to your damn sister’s wedding.”
Deirdre’s face burned fuming red. She stood there tapping one red shoe against the concrete, her arms folded against her chest. “Luke Wade, I’m telling you right now, either you choose your club, or you choose me. I’m tired of being the odd man out.”
“An ultimatum?” Luke shrugged. “I’m not choosing you.”
“But—”
“It’s time you leave,” he said coldly.
Her eyes grew wide, and then narrowed. “Fine, Luke.” She marched to the front of the shop and slammed the door.
Luke stood there a second at his desk, then slapped his empty coffee cup across the room. It landed with a dull thud, the handle breaking off. “Fuck!”
The door to the work bay opened, and Gibs poked his head in. “Everything okay, boss?”
“Get back to work,” growled Luke.
“Okey dokey, boss. But if you want my two cents, good riddance.”
“I didn’t ask you. Now go!”
“Yes, sir!” Gibs shut the door, and Luke bent over to pick up his cup. Damn. It was his favorite coffee cup; the Harley-Davidson black mug, chrome flames rising from the bottom.
It was his fault, all of it. He should have known from the first time she refused to go on a ride with him that she wasn’t the woman for him. But then, that’s what he did, pick women he knew in his heart weren’t right.
The thought unsettled Luke and he shook his head. It didn’t do any good to dwell on it. He set the mug on his desk and sat in the well-worn leather chair behind it. Luke opened the drawers looking for some glue to fix the mug, but didn’t see any. “Shit,” he muttered. “In a place that fixes things you’d think we’d have some glue.”
A customer came in and Luke pushed aside his thoughts about the mug and Deirdre. “How can I help you?” he asked with a big smile.
#
THE CUSTOMER LEFT AFTER arranging for Luke to pick up the bike and bring it to the shop for a repair estimate. Luke was happy to perform this service. With the shop’s worthy rep and the fastidiousness riders had for keeping up their bikes, Luke rarely lost a job because of price.
Luke filled the broken coffee mug with the black liquid and sat back at his desk. He opened the newspaper again, thinking he could get ten minutes to check out the police blotter. What he saw nearly made him spit his coffee out.
SPEEDING, GRAND THEFT AUTO, Emily Rose Dougherty, 28, of 220 Circle Road, Apt. B, Walkerville was charged on April 6 with speeding, reckless endangerment, and grand theft auto. Following arrest was released on a $10,000 bond with an appearance for an April 13 court date.
Emily? His Emily? Grand Theft Auto? It couldn’t be her. Except... the age was right and Walkerville was one town over. No wonder he never saw her around Westfield. If there was one thing true about Connecticut, people congregated in their own little towns and rarely reached out to others. At least she bonded out. Still, he wondered what was going on. Emily wouldn’t so much as cross against a traffic light. Grand Theft Auto sounded beyond her skill or interest level. No, Luke decided, his Emily would never commit a crime. There had to be some sort of mistake.
Of course there was that date, that infamous date, when he and Emily’s life changed forever. That stupid accident, but it put him out of school for months and he couldn’t graduate with his class. Worse yet, Emily’s parents forbid her to see him. That, he had learned from Emily’s sister, Angela. It had made his recovery that much more difficult. A fractured tibia is a painful injury, made more so by the long slow healing process the leg needed. He couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. Losing Emily devastated him, and while his friends visited, it wasn’t the same. He missed her. Then he grew angry at her, and later himself.
Finally he resolved himself to the situation and let her go.
Now here was an opportunity just to tell her—what? That he still loved her? No, that would be bad. Who knew how she felt now. Hell, she probably had a boyfriend, maybe a husband. Not all women changed their names when they got married. She probably didn’t remember him.
Luke scrambled around his desk for something to write on and cursed himself for not having anything within reach. Who wrote letters anyway? Everyone texted or emailed. Finally, Luke found one of the promotional postcards he had made when he opened the shop four years ago. It was a little brown around the edges, but it would have to do. He grabbed one of the pens embossed with Luke’s Bike Repair and put the end in his mouth, thinking what he should write.
Everything he came up with sounded dorky. He couldn’t write; ‘How have you been?’ Clearly she had some bad luck going on. ‘Where you been after all these years?’ That sounded pathetic. He hit on a thought, one line that he thought would fit everything the best way it could for the situation. He wrote:
I still think about you.
Satisfied with that line, he added the address to it. One of the guys distracted him then, so when he took it later to the post office to get a stamp, he didn’t notice he hadn’t signed it.
