Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Troy
Arthur sat in the back, blond head bowed over his phone, feet propped on the battered desk in a position that didn’t look remotely comfortable.
Still, Arthur was occupied and not bothering me, so I didn’t really care, unlike Janet, who looked like she was about to have an aneurysm right in the lobby.
I’d just finished up an oil change, bidding the customer, a regular named Franklin Abernathy, farewell. And that's when trouble showed up.
As the sky-blue Nissan pulled into the drive, I prayed it wasn’t my sister.
But when the door opened, it was. My sister Skye and I looked a lot alike.
We’d both gotten my mom’s brown hair and our dad’s dark brown eyes.
Back when we were in school, my sister and I used to compete a lot.
Our dad was a professor of mathematics, and our mom was a data analyst for the CIA, a job that wasn’t nearly as exciting as it sounded.
When I was a kid, everything had always come much harder to me than it had for Skye. She was book-smart. I was not.
Then, there was our brother Lance, who—
I felt a tightness in my chest. Thoughts of my brother were better forgotten.
Skye’s bright pink heels clicked on the tile as she walked in.
She looked like a walking upset stomach ad (the kind with heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, and diarrhea), although I’d never tell her that.
Skye liked bright colors, and I wasn’t mean enough to kill her enthusiasm for them.
But that pink was still the most flamboyant, awful thing I’d ever seen.
No one would lose her in a crowd. She was bright enough to be spotted by satellite.
Her heels went click-click-click before she stopped in front of me. “Sucks to be you,” Janet muttered, as she retrieved a sparkplug she’d been looking for and darted back to the shop floor.
“Troy,” Skye said, crossing her arms.
“Skye.”
I leaned against the counter, bracing for the inevitable.
“Mom wants to know what your plans are for the holidays, and you haven’t been answering her calls or texts.”
One thing to be said about Skye, she didn’t waste time with pleasantries. You always knew where you were with her, wishing to be someplace other than in her presence.
“So, you’re here to do Mom’s dirty work?” I asked. “You've always been good at that.”
Skye sighed and cast her eyes heavenward, as if she expected divine patience to rain down.
“You know,” I said, “If you make that same goofy face every time you see me, it’s going to stick.”
“What are you? Four?”
“Only when I’m around you.”
Skye smiled. “I hope you don’t talk that way to your customers.”
I glanced to the back to see if Arthur heard the rebuke. He still had his gaze stuck to his phone, so I assumed he hadn’t. Otherwise, he’d have been up and in my business in three seconds flat.
“No. Only you,” I replied, lowering my voice, “And I wish you’d stop. Arthur is going to be pissed if he figures out you came here just to chat me up. I’m supposed to be working.”
Skye’s face became the picture of innocence. “Why, I’m here getting my tires rotated! I am an official customer, just talking to the employee who happens to be my brother.”
“I’ll send our mom a text,” I said, “When I get off.”
“If you don’t, I might have to swing by and remind you. Are you still doing that art thing?”
“It’s called junk assemblage,” I corrected.
“Right,” Skye said. “It wouldn’t be my choice of medium, you know.”
“You’ve also hated art your entire life. You wouldn’t know a Da Vinci from a speed bump.”
Skye shrugged. “Someone had to work for the doctorate,” she said.
I winced, on the inside. Skye hadn’t meant for that to hurt, but it did. She’d always been the prodigy, the perfect golden girl who did the best in everything and never screwed up. Not like me. But I knew better than to point that out.
If I ever mentioned how badly I’d screwed up, if I dared dig up all the old problems I’d created, Skye wouldn’t be angry.
No, she’d be sympathetic. Her eyes would soften, and she’d insist in a dozen different ways that I hadn’t done anything wrong.
But I had. No amount of my sister’s drivel or apologies from me could erase the past. I'd always been the failure, and survival was the best I could manage.
And make art. But even art had to come second to…food to eat.
“Someday, I’m going to make money with that art,” I replied.
Sooner rather than later, if I did well in the upcoming art competition. It had a prize of $10,000. That wasn't exactly chump change.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t had much time to work on my art. Work took precedence because it came close to actually paying the immediate bills.
“I hope you do,” Skye said, her voice softening, “But you know I worry about—”
The door opened, and I peered past my sister, grateful for the distraction. But it was Seth, and I wasn’t sure he was much better company. Still, I looked outside to see what he’d ridden in on. It was another bike, this one a combination of flat black and gleaming metal.
My sister glanced at Seth, her eyes lighting up. One hand went to her hair, fluffing it from behind. I’d seen that gesture before and had teased her about it more than once; whether she meant to or not, that was how my sister acted when she saw a hot guy. At least it wasn't just me staring.
“Hey, Troy!” Seth exclaimed cheerfully. “I brought you something to look at.”
I was both embarrassed and flattered that he actually remembered my name.
Skye cleared her throat. “Oh,” I said, “Skye, this is Seth.”
Seth flashed her a smile. And God, were his teeth even real?
I’d never seen anything so white outside of a toothpaste commercial.
If Seth could afford to ride the most expensive Harley out there, he could probably afford decent dental care, no problem.
With a sudden wave of self-consciousness, I ran my tongue over my teeth and tried to remember my last dental visit. Two years? Three?
“It’s nice to meet you,” Skye gushed.
“You, too,” Seth said. “I love your dress. It’s exceptionally vibrant.”
Either Seth was being nice, or Seth had horrible taste in clothing, or both.
“Thank you,” Skye gushed again.
Yeah, she was probably wet as hell. If she gushed any more, the pheromones would be running all down that “exceptionally vibrant” dress of hers.
Seth added a little bow. “Of course,” he said. “So Troy, come see. I don’t know what the problem is, but she’s making this weird rattling noise.”
Seth walked halfway across the room without ever looking to see if I’d actually follow him. Maybe he just expected everyone to do as he said.
“He’s hot,” Skye muttered, her heels clicking as she followed me.
“You can do so much better,” I lied. “What good is being hot if you have all the charisma of a used tissue?”
“I think he has plenty of charisma,” she hissed.
I think she now needed that tissue for her private parts.
Skye was wrong. Really, the most attractive thing about Seth was that he clearly had good taste in bikes.
It took a ridiculous amount of effort to keep my jaw from dropping as I eyed the bike before me.
She was a real stunner, all her machinery visible.
I felt an irrational jolt of fear that she might fall apart if I so much as breathed on her.
“Is that an Ecosse Titanium?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” Seth replied, patting the seat. “This is Athena. Ecosse FE Ti XX Titanium.”
I shook my head. “Do you own a bike without a six-figure price tag?” I asked.
Skye attempted to stifle her gasp.
With a grin, Seth shrugged. “I don’t look at the price. I just hand people a blank check and let the bank figure it out if someone screws me over,” he said, with such sincerity that I was genuinely unsure if he was joking.
“Damn,” I murmured, stunned.
“You have an impressive knowledge of motorcycles,” Seth said. “Unfortunately, none of my friends do. I don’t suppose you’d want to have a round of drinks sometime and talk about them?”
Was he asking me on a date? My stomach flipped.
Tempting… very tempting, but dangerous. I couldn’t possibly accept without outing myself.
And maybe I was jumping to conclusions, anyway.
It was probably just a friendly offer. With his looks and apparent wealth, Seth probably already had a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Whatever.
Besides, I had plenty to do without throwing a wrench into it. Relationships took time and effort, and those were luxuries I could not afford.
“No, but thanks,” I said. “I’ll be happy to look over your bike, though.”
“Cool,” Seth replied, seemingly unfazed by the rejection. “I called earlier and made an appointment with Janet. Just call when you’re finished. I actually have somewhere to be, a last-minute kind of thing, so Uber’s picking me up.”
“Will do,” I said. “We've got a few ahead of you, but I can get you in.”
Seth smiled and handed me the keys. “Perfect.”
I didn’t ask why Seth had a giant keychain of what looked like a zombie Yoda head holding his keys. Instead, I merely curled my fingers around them and made the trip back to the shop.
“Bye, Seth!” I heard Skye say. She was actually waving…gawd.
I placed his keys on the counter and flipped through the schedule, searching for his name. There he was, right on time. I grimaced at the computer screen. It was a good thing Seth wasn’t going to wait. We were at least forty-five minutes behind where we ought to be.
I sensed Skye standing before me and raised my head, preparing for the unwanted lecture.
“Why would you say no?” Skye asked, looking at me as if I’d just committed some unforgivable crime.
“Because I don’t want to go have drinks with him,” I replied.
“Well, I think you need to get out more,” Skye said. “I’d let him take me to have drinks.”
“Then, I guess you should’ve asked for his number.”
“And you need to make friends. I know it’s hard, but—”
“I do have friends,” I said.
“Online friends don't count.”
“Of course, it counts,” I argued. “Honestly, Skye, don’t you have anything better to do than come around and lecture me?”
Skye’s face reddened. “You know,” she said slowly, “Lance’s death hurt me, too.”
Her words landed like a punch to the gut, but I wouldn’t admit it. Not to her or anyone. Maybe not even myself.
“This isn’t about Lance,” I replied. “I’m doing fine on my own. That’s all. You don’t have to mother over me all the time.”
Skye stiffened. “Fine,” she said, spinning on her pink heels and storming out.
I watched as she climbed into her car, slamming the door.
“What happened?” Arthur asked.
I turned around and found him looking at me. He held onto the doorframe leading into the back office, as if he cared about what had happened, but not enough to actually come out and investigate for himself.
“Nothing,” I replied, shrugging. “She wanted a tire rotation, but she left her wallet at home.”
“Oh,” Arthur said, clearly oblivious. “That’s unfortunate. We really ought to consider partnering Visa or someone.”
“That’s a great idea,” I lied.
I watched until my sister’s car was a blue dot in the distance.
When I looked onto the sidewalk, Seth was gone.
It wouldn’t have been right to go have drinks with him, not when I found him so attractive; not when I hadn’t even told him I was gay.
It wasn’t that I was ashamed of that, but I also knew how unpredictable people could be when they learned your sexual orientation.
Keeping quiet wasn't shame—it was survival.
Unfortunately, survival made me feel guilty sometimes.
But maybe this was for the best. After all, what if I’d had drinks with Seth and, opening up to him, learned he was homophobic? Or what if I hadn’t told him anything, and he just turned out to be an asshole? Seth did seem like he could be a jerk.
Or maybe that wasn’t quite fair. He seemed…something. Confident or haughty. It wasn’t clear which. Money helps in that department. But there was something about him, an admirable enthusiasm. A sort of energy that stirred up some degree of confusion inside me.
I rubbed a hand across my forehead. “I’m going to work on Seth’s bike,” I said, glancing again at Arthur.
Arthur had already returned to his phone, but he looked up. His blue eyes darted to the front of the store and back to me. “Sure,” he said. “I think I can handle it.”
And back to the phone, he went.