Disco Down
Maisie
The first thing I saw? The bikes.
A row of them was supposed to be lined up out front – gleaming and ready for the day. Instead, my entire fleet remained behind the locked decorative fence where they would catch nobody's quick attention.
I mean, sure, the bikes were within view – but only if someone stopped to look.
That was the bad news.
Worse news? At least a dozen of the bikes were tipped over with their handlebars tangled like some drunken game of pick-up sticks. On several bicycles, the chains dangled loose with the metal strands gleaming dully in the morning sun.
My stomach dropped. "What the hell?"
My gaze zoomed in on three of the fallen bikes. They were part of a special collection that my dad had commissioned just two years ago – a year and a half before he died.
My heart ached at the sight – and not only because I still missed him like crazy. Those bikes had cost a fortune, literally, and had yet to make a dent in their outrageous cost.
One of his personal favorites, Disco Inferno, lay alone on its side, looking like the sad remains of a party that had ended ages ago. Its chrome frame should have been glittering like a disco ball. Instead, it lay dully in the morning light, reminding me of bad decisions and broken dreams.
Slowly, as if in a trance, I moved closer to the fence, my heart sinking as I stared at the tangled mess.
My throat tightened. Even the generic rental bikes weren't cheap, and that was an understatement. If any of those frames were bent, I was seriously screwed.
Cursing under my breath, I turned and looked toward the front of the shop, where the neon OPEN sign remained ominously dark.
I squinted in confusion. Where on Earth was Trevor?
He was supposed to open today. The schedule wasn't hard to track, considering that I had only one employee – two if I counted myself.
The shop should have opened at nine o'clock. I checked my watch. Just after ten . "Damn it."
If only I'd known that Trevor wasn't here, I wouldn't have wasted my time at the dock arguing with the two duffel dudes – both of whom had been nothing but trouble.
At least the guy in blue had been nice. Sort of. But Mister Wall Street? He'd been a total grump, making my already crappy day just a little crappier.
And, now I was facing the crap trifecta.
With a sigh, I yanked out my cell phone and pulled up Trevor's name.
I hit the call button and listened as it rang three times and then a fourth.
I liked Trevor. He was a mechanical engineering student working on the island during his summer break.
He'd been my employee for only a couple of weeks, but he had seemed like a perfect fit – friendly, responsible, and a whiz with the bikes.
The phone was still ringing, and I braced myself for the inevitable.
Voice mail, here we come.
But then a familiar voice answered, sounding not quite right. "Uh… hey, Maisie."
Was he sick? My irritation turned to concern. "Are you okay?"
"Uh, yeah. I'm fine."
I was happy to hear it, but less happy that he wasn't here. "So…did you oversleep?"
"Well…I was sleeping, but…"
I waited, but he never finished the sentence. Finally, I asked, "But what? Is something wrong?" Silently, I ran through the possibilities. A failed alarm? Some sort of accident? I felt the color drain from my face. Oh, no…not a death in the family?
After a long silence, he finally replied, "No, I'm good."
I released a long, unsteady breath. Well, that made one of us. "So…where are you?" I glanced at the mess beyond the fence. "You were supposed to open today, remember?"
He paused for a long moment, and I swear, I heard him suck in a breath. "Yeah, about that… I'm not coming in."
I stiffened. "What? Why not?"
"I, uh… got another job."
My grip tightened on the phone. "Since when?"
"Since, uh…yesterday. Sort of."
Sort of? What did that mean? "And you couldn't call?"
"Sorry," he mumbled. "It just…came up fast."
"Seriously?" What the hell was going on? "Were you the one who knocked over the bikes?"
"Me?" He sounded surprised. "No."
His denial landed with a thud. Was he really surprised? Or just faking it? I could barely choke out a response. "Okaaaaay…do you know who did?"
"Uh…no?"
I shook my head. "Was that a question?"
"No." His voice quavered. "I mean…no, I have no idea."
Was he lying? I couldn't say either way.
Already, I was in solution-mode, trying to plan several weeks ahead. Currently, the shop was open six days a week from nine until seven – closing only on Wednesdays. Once I got over this hump, I had been planning to add another employee and open seven days a week if the cashflow allowed.
I bit my lip. Trevor's defection wasn't a good sign. This, combined with this morning's unproductive phone call with the bank, was a perfect one-two punch to send me reeling.
I was still trying to figure things out when Trevor mumbled, "Maybe it was the wind?"
I couldn't help but scoff. "So the wind knocked over the bikes?"
His voice grew quiet. "You never know…"
Idiot. Not him. Me . This morning was the very first time I'd let someone else open on my behalf.
And why?
It was because I'd had that phone appointment with the bank. For privacy's sake, I'd taken it from home, but I should have taken it here, where I could've kept an eye on my business.
It had been the same last night, when I'd left thirty minutes early to submit some last-minute paperwork before yet another arbitrary deadline set by the bank. Afterward, I'd camped out at my own kitchen table, crunching numbers until midnight to see which outstanding bills I should pay first.
Damn it. Yesterday, I'd left Trevor alone for thirty measly minutes. Was that when the bikes were sabotaged?
Earlier in the day, Trevor had sworn up and down that he could handle closing on his own just fine – and open the shop today. I'd even given him a key, which apparently, he hadn't even used – at least not this morning.
Something didn't add up. "Trevor, if something's wrong – "
"It's not."
I would be a fool to believe him. He wasn't even living on the island. Rather, he'd been taking the ferry back and forth to the mainland, where he stayed with his mom. Was that why he'd quit? Because the daily commute was too much?
I asked, "And what about the key? You know…the one to the shop?"
"I, um…left it in the register."
My jaw dropped. "You mean last night?"
"Uh…yeah."
" Before you left?"
"Yeah."
"So you knew you were quitting? And you didn't even warn me?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
Sorry again? "You keep saying that, but what I really need is the truth. Seriously Trevor, what's going on?"
A note of panic crept into his voice. "Look, I didn't touch anything, okay? I just… I gotta go."
And just like that, the line went dead.
I stood there, staring at my phone. The conversation had done nothing to ease my mind. The tourist season had barely started, and already I was on my own. I'd been short-staffed before Trevor's defection, and now this?
Sabotage or not, it was a bad omen.
I was still staring at my phone when a prickle crawled up my neck, like someone was watching from afar. I whirled to look. Nothing. The usual landmarks aside, all I saw were tourists and the endless streams of bikes.
My eyes burned with unshed tears. Not my bikes.
Damn it.
How much business had I missed today already? Some of those tourists would have rented from me if only I'd been here sooner.
With a sigh, I pulled out my keys and trudged toward the front door.
The familiar scent of chain oil and old rubber hit me as I opened the shop and started flipping switches, starting with the OPEN sign.
Boy, did I have a mess to clean up – and not only with the bikes.
Even worse, I'd be doing it on my own.
Again.