7. Levi
Chapter 7
Levi
"S kid, hand me that clipboard next to the Honda. Will ya?"
Joey pops his head up from the bike he’s currently working on.
"On it, boss!"
I pull open the last garage door just as Joey is passing me the clipboard.
“Anyone seen Benji?”
“He was on the phone with the owner of the Indian Four,” Skid says.
I sigh and crack my neck. That can’t be good. We’re already a week behind on that rebuild. And that particular customer has already threatened to take his business across the pass.
The back door opens and Benji steps in from the outside area.
“What now?”I call out to him.
Benji lifts up his fist and holds it out for a moment before giving us an unexpected thumbs up. I let out the breath I’m holding in.
"Alright, looks like we have two new bikes being dropped off this morning. Benji?" I call out to my lead. "How's that engine rebuild coming along?"
"You want the good news or the bad news?" Benji replies.
"Honestly, I'd like whatever news is the truth."
"Well, it's coming along like molasses in January," he says with as much enthusiasm as a teenager waking to go to school.
“So what’s the good news?” I ask.
“That it’s coming along,” he says with a smirk. “And I just talked the owner off the cliff.”
"Great, so I won't have you until next week?"
"If that."
"Alright." I mark off on the paper the days that Benji is out of pocket and quickly reassign tasks.
Our crew isn't as big as it used to be, so dividing up the work and making sure the schedules line up with customer expectations on delivery time has been a lot to manage.
Especially when so many other things occupy my mind.
Like the fact that my phone has been buzzing in my pocket all morning. I already know who it is. I even know exactly what she’s expecting. It’s Friday. And my ex-wife is nothing if not predictable.
I reject the call.
"Okay, that means Kick, you're on the '83 Harley coming in. That one includes a handlebar weld."
Kim Harrison, our resident welder, jumps down from the table she's been seated at and walks over to me. Her oversized jumpsuit, hanging open on one side.
"That's great. I'll get to it as soon as I finish the other three welds that need to be done this week."
Shit. I didn't realize we were that far behind.
"Okay, nevermind. Maybe…" I look over to Joey who's practically bouncing in his sneakers. "Maybe, Skid can help."
"I don't know," Benji warns.
"Come on, Gramps! You've had me watching for months now. I know what I gotta do," Joey attempts to convince us.
Benji gives me a look and I know it means the kid isn't ready.
"Skid, you can help Ghost."
"Yeah," Kim says. "I work better alone anyways."
She pops her gum and gives me a salute as she walks by. Her long braids swishing along her hips as she grabs her tools.
"Alright, that puts Ghost on bike number two. They're doing a performance tuning. Should be right up your alley."
Ghost, whose real name is just as much an enigma as the man himself, is our silent muscle.
He leans on his Ducati, his skin has the weathered look of a man that’s spent years under the sun and his bulky muscles twist as he brings his morning coffee up to his lips.
Word on the street is he’s a descendant of one of a chieftains from the native tribe that used to live on these lands long before Georgia became the thirteenth colony.
And I believe it. Ghost is built like a warrior.
"Have Skid help with anything you need. That's a priority build."
Ghost gives me his signature nod of understanding.
"Wait," Joey cuts in. "I've been here for almost a year. I've done everything you guys have asked of me. Been your little runner. I’ve earned my keep. Give me my own project, Steele, please. I promise you, I've got this."
"No can do, Skid," I say, slapping the clipboard onto the table outside my office.
"Why? Give me one good reason," Joey presses.
Benji laughs from his place across the bay.
"You serious, kid? How about that!" He points to the long, blackened arc scorched into the concrete.
"Do you really need another reason?" Kim adds.
Joey crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.
"Will you ever let me live that down? Any of you?"
"No," we all say in perfect unison. Well, almost all, Ghost just shakes his head in silent protest.
Just as Joey's about to storm off, a motorcycle pulls up with a rider in a pink jumpsuit and matching helmet.
I don't need to see them take off the helmet to know exactly who it is.
"Fuck," I curse to myself.
I'm hoping she'll realize showing up here is a bad idea and just turn around.
Maybe then I don't have to be confronted with the uncomfortable situation that is being attracted to my best friend's supposed daughter.
Please go.
Instead, Sienna swings her legs over an orange Harley-Davidson Sportster Iron 883 like she's done it a million times. It’s the kind of bike that screams I’m a rebel.
She moves with the cool confidence of a woman who hasn't yet had the life entirely knocked out of her. It’s refreshing, if not also incredibly annoying.
Mostly because I haven’t succeeded in stopping myself from thinking about that damn kiss.
I work up the nerve to approach her, just as the crew's eyes shift over to me.
"Sorry, our hands are full today. You'll have to wait in line if you want work done," I cross my arms over my chest as she meets me at the garage entrance.
That long red wavy hair is flowing behind her, helmet tucked under an arm.
"Then I guess it’s a good thing I'm not here to get work done, Mr. Steele. I'm here to work."
She stops just a few feet in front of me nodding at the crew behind me. I turn to look at them all gawking at her.
"Get to work," I call back to them and a flurry of bodies start moving instantly.
'What are you talking about?" I say, voice lowered, turning back to her. Those green eyes watch me with mischief.
"You didn't get the memo?"
When I only stare back at her with as little emotion as I can pretend, she adds, "I'm your new assistant."
Without another word, Sienna steps around me and walks into the garage like she owns the place.
New what?!
"The hell you are," I call out to her.
Stomping behind her like a buffoon to keep up with her steady strides.
“You see, I had a chat with Brody King, you know, majority owner of this place,” she motions around her.
“And he told me that none of the positions have in fact been filled. Instead, he informed me that you are currently acting as both the shop foreman and the fifth mechanic.
“It’s my shop. I can act as whatever I damn well, please.”
“Of course, you can. And he says he can’t stop you but he can help you, by hiring me.” She smiles and then makes her way to Joey and Benji. "Ho-ly shit," Sienna says, nearly breathless. "Is that a ‘41 Indian Four?"
"You know your bikes," Benji says, clearly impressed. "This one can't even tell the front fender from the back one most days."
He motions to Joey who deadpans. Still likely mad about our earlier teasing.
"Not true," the youngest of our crew says. He extends a hand out to Sienna. "I'm Joey, by the way."
"But around here we call him Skid," Benji adds, smirking. "They call me Gramps. Ask me why?"
"Why?" Sienna says, leaning against the bench next to them, already looking more cozy than she needs to be.
"Nah ah, no need for all that," I interrupt. "Garage things are garage things. And Sienna was just leaving."
Sienna levels me a look.
"If it's a garage thing then as your assistant, I should probably know about it. Don't you think?"
I'm really doing my best to keep my temper at bay.
There's not a whole lot that can get me worked up. But the second I found out that Sienna could possibly be Brody's daughter, it all made sense.
She's a lifelong fan. She loves motorcycles. And now, she's working here because she has an in.
This has been her plan all along.
I've seen Brody taken advantage of more times than I care to admit, and I'm not just going to stand around and let some pretty young thing swindle him for all he's worth.
Blood relation or not.
"Assistant?" Joey says, looking at me for confirmation.
"She's not," I say.
"I am," Sienna counters, confidently.
"Wait, your Julian's cousin aren't you?" Joey says, snapping his fingers as he recalls. "You were here last night."
Last night. I was hoping nobody would bring that up.
Sienna's eyes stay glued on me as she says, "I was."
"Yeah, he's told me all about you," Joey continues.
"Oh, has he now?"
Sienna lifts a quizzical brow. And damn it if she's not even more attractive when she's not even trying.
"Yeah! You're dating that guy that's getting the new show on AutoTV. The one with the shop on the mainland."
What guy? And what mother fucking shop?
Sienna shifts her weight uncomfortably, not meeting my eyes now.
She's dating someone and yet, she was here begging me to kiss her last night.
Welp, there you have it folks. I officially know how to fucking pick them.
"Alright, enough chit chat. My crew has work to do and you," I say, pointing to Sienna. "You can follow me."
I move to go to the back office and hear Sienna's boots following behind me as Kim starts up the music and Joey calls out to us, "It's not what you think!"
We both turn to look at him.
"The nickname. Skid? It's not what you think."
Sienna laughs. "Sure, it's not."
Benji slaps Joey on the back and shakes him.
"Just accept it, man."
"I frickin hate that nickname," I hear Joey say, as I hold the door open to my office to let Sienna step through.
The second I shut the door, I draw the blinds and turn to her.
"Going for round two, Mr. Steele?" She teases. "Don't think my dad would appreciate that very much."
She sinks into my chair and whirls around, stopping it to face me.
"You are not working here," I tell her.
"Hmm, see that's where you're wrong."
"Listen here," I say, stepping up to her, placing both hands on the hand rests of my chair that she's commandeered. "I don't know what game you're playing, but Brody King is the best fucking friend I could ever have. And I'm not about to sit back and watch you take everything from him."
She glares at me. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you waltzing in here ready to ruin King's life."
"You think I'm after… what? His money?" She asks like the thought disgusts her to the core. "I don't want Brody King's money, Mr. Steele. Before this morning, I didn't even know who the man was. Let alone the fact that he somehow owns everything on this island. I need a job. I'm ready to work. That's why I'm here."
She shoves me away and stands to go to the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To do my job," she says, hand on the doorknob opening the door.
I slam it shut, standing behind her.
She whips her head back to look at me, eyes filled with what can only be fear.
Oh, I'm going to hell for this.