CHAPTER 23
Shar
I’m not having an early breakfast this morning. I don’t want to face all the brothers in one go after Crack will have told them about my pole dancing fiasco yesterday. I was fully expecting to wake up with a black eye today after face planting that damn stage.
Taking my phone I think I’ll give Mia a call and see how she’s getting on. It’s not going to be too early with her having the twins and Summer to sort out every morning. She might be busy with them, though. I can only try and if she can’t talk right now, I’ll call back later.
Hearing Mia’s voice, I’m immediately thinking how much better she sounds. I wonder what has brought that about, the therapist, or has he put her on some meds?
It takes a while to get a word in, but eventually she slows enough to take a breath and I get to ask how things are going with her and not just Axel and the kids. It’s only then that I start to get a feel of the real picture. She mentions the Ol’ Ladies too and not as the girl-gang, which has me thinking that maybe they are spending time with Mia and not the First Lady.
Talking about her therapist and their sessions, I note that there is no mention of any meds, but she does have some mental and physical exercises that she does daily. Although she doesn’t sound one hundred percent the Mia I know and love, she does sound better than when we last spoke.
After we end the call, I take a moment to reflect and wonder if my leaving didn’t act as a catalyst for her. I can’t go that route though, or I’d never do anything for myself. I’ve surely done enough for others that I’ve earned the right to my own life?
Knocking on the door brings me back to earth and I call out to ask who it is. Hearing Trip’s voice, I tell him to enter and wait for the onslaught to begin.
“Hey, Shar. You okay? I noticed you weren’t at breakfast and as it’s not like you to miss your grub, just thought I’d make sure you’re all good?”
Trip sounds genuine, so maybe Crack hasn’t spilled the beans?
“I’m good, thanks, Trip. I just had a personal call with Mia, and now I’m making some tracks ready for the day to start. Got a meeting with Zara later, over at the salon.”
“Pres has asked me to go and check on the garage and see how it’s coming along. Fancy a ride over there? Good day for the bike. Blow away some cobwebs.”
Now, normally the guys don’t offer me a lift on their hogs, and normally I wouldn’t accept if they did, but today seems like a good day to move some cobwebs.
“Hell, yeah, Trip. Let’s blow them mothers to the next state. I’ll be ready in ten minutes as soon as I freshen up and get my biker gear out of mothballs!”
Trip looks extremely happy and agrees to meet me outside in ten minutes.
A quick freshen up and I’m digging out some decent jeans, my biker boots and leather jacket. I have a couple of thick t-shirts that I used to wear for riding, so one of those over a crop top and I’m ready to roll.
Walking through the rec room I get a few looks, but they’re appreciative rather than piss taking, so I’m growing more confident that Crack has told no one about the pole.
Trip takes us on a detour on the way to the garage and gives his hog plenty of space to stretch her legs. She does it well and sounds amazing when he twists that throttle.
Arriving at the garage, I’m a little speechless. It doesn’t look like the same place I bought for the club. In my SUV, I’d have probably driven past without recognizing the place. The forecourt is clean and inviting. The front of the building has been cleaned and painted. The club logo is in the center of the window, but it’s been done as a light engraving so you see it and yet still see through it into the building.
Walking inside, there is a reception counter and a waiting area. There’s a small table and six comfy chairs. A coffee machine sits on one end of the counter and a large window has been cut into the wall behind that, so customers can see their cars being worked on. I like that and tell Trip that I think that’s a great addition. Apparently, it was one of Cord’s improvement ideas, of which he has had a few.
Walking through to the work area, we go through a small hallway and there are toilets and a kitchen off to one side. Peeking inside, I see that the toilets have separate customer and staff stalls. Another nice touch. The workspace looks much bigger than I remember it. There are two ramps installed and a tent on the far side.
“Spray booth?”
I ask Trip.
“Well spotted. We can take it down if we have no work for it and use that area for more servicing. It’s an inflatable booth, so should take minutes to pack away or inflate. Wasn’t cheap but Cord reckons it will only take a few jobs for it to pay for itself.”
“Another of Cord’s ideas? He’s got the bit between his teeth considering he doesn’t have the background.”
I’m surprised by the enthusiasm that Cord’s ideas show. He must be excited by the management side of things, that’s for sure.
Thinking we’re all done here, I follow Trip out of the bay doors and onto the rear lot. There are numbered bays out here and in one corner there’s a picnic area with two picnic tables, garbage bins and a sunshade or rain protector.
“Gets the guys outside and into the rays on good days and also reduces the foot traffic around the kitchen area. Saves on replacing the flooring so often and less chance of any customers hearing any cussing at lunchtimes.”
Trip grins at my astonished look.
“Cord again?” I grin.
“Nope. This was Snore. I think it’s genius, too. Getting outside in the sunshine is going to release endorphins into the guys' brains, promoting happy, happy thoughts, pain relief and reduce stress.”
Trip laughs as my mouth hangs open. “Yep. Snore told us all that, too.”
“So, when they come back from their break time, they’ll be as high as a kite and work twice as fast.”
I laugh again and wonder how it took me coming here to release all this positivity within them.
“Let’s make tracks, Shar. We can drop by the tattoo shop on the way back and you can meet Autumn.”
“Autumn? Who’s Autumn when they are at home?”
“The new receptionist that you enticed with your window sign.”
If my mind wasn’t so full of the garage, I may have made the connection to the tattoo shop and their new receptionist on my own.
Reveling in the ride behind Trip, and no doubt getting my own high from the sun and my endorphins, we don’t take nearly long enough before we arrive at the tattoo shop. Walking inside, I’m surprised, yet again, when there are several people standing around in the waiting area. A woman's voice calls from the work area, “Be with you in a sec.”
“Since when did Scribe or Needle sound like that, or have we got a woman tattoo artist now?”
I ask Trip, and he just grins some more.
A woman approaches us and I’m actually taller than her. That’s a rarity in my world and I can’t help but stare.
“Unusual, huh? Being taller than someone else? I see that look more than you’d ever imagine. I’m Autumn. What can we do for you today? You don’t look like a flowery type of girl, certainly nothing gothic. Maybe a cyborg type of thing. You’re definitely fit enough to carry something like that off. Oh! Cyborg in steampunk style. That would certainly be the dog's whatsits on you.”
“I’m not here for a tattoo and I’m not sure what ‘steampunk’ is, anyway.”
She is certainly full-on when it comes to pitching sales, I’ll give her that.
Turning and grabbing a folder from the table behind her, she flicks through some pages and then shows me some photos. Seeing them has me tipping my head to one side. They depict a clock, but no ordinary clock. It is quite a detailed thing and I see where the ‘steam’ bit comes from. It looks like it has all the pipes, cogs and things that you would expect to see with a steam engine, but it is far more intricate and detailed.
Looking over my shoulder, Trip comments, “You could have something from your shoulder and then your upper arm that would look killer on you, Shar. Like an open wound showing cyborg mechanics under the skin, but in that style. Whoa, that would look awesome.”
“Trip! I’m not having a goddamn tattoo. They’re not my thing.”
“Okay, Shar. Just saying. But I have to say, Autumn, I like the way you think. You nailed that, hands down.”
Sticking his hand out, they high-five each other.
“It’s an artist thing. I can see things in my mind’s eye, but I can’t put it on paper, or skin even. So, what can I do for you if I can’t sell you a tattoo?”
She looks me in the eye and then looks up at Trip.
“Actually, I was dragged here, kicking and screaming, to meet you.”
I smile at Autumn and she gives off a lovely, gentle laugh.
“I don’t see you as the ‘dragged’ anywhere sort of gal. I could see you dragging the right man, but never being dragged. So, Shar was it? To what do I owe the pleasure of you wanting to meet me?”
“I put the sign in the window for a receptionist, so ultimately, I guess I’m responsible for you being here.”
As I smile at her, I see something in her eyes.
“I hate to burst your bubble, but I didn’t know there was a sign in the window.”
“Then how did you know about the position?”
I didn’t advertise it anywhere else, so that’s odd.
“I overheard some trailer-trash skank saying she’d asked about it, and she was told it had already been filled. She walked by a couple of days later and they were still trying to fill the position, so she was pissed about it. To be honest, I wouldn’t have trusted her to watch over a hornet's nest.”
Scribe walks over and joins us as his client leaves, but not before he gives Autumn a big thank you.
“That guy came in with his own drawing for a tattoo a couple of months ago, some tribal shit, and it was such a godawful mess, we just kept telling him no way were we putting our name to it. He kept turning up but wasn’t open to any of our suggestions, either. Then he turns up again and Superwoman here takes one look at it, tears it up into shreds and tells him if he wants tribal and something modern and trendy, he needs to check out the photo folders or our website, but we sure as hell wouldn’t be doing some homemade piece of crap. Ten minutes later and he’s booked in for one of our generic tats, and Autumn wants him done as soon as possible so she can fuck him the hell off.”
“Our time is too valuable to waste with idiots like that,”
Autumn states loudly. “Our prices reflect the work we do, and the pride we have in that work. We are at the top of our game and if people want to throw their hard-earned dollars to someone that hasn’t got the qualifications, expertise or self-esteem, then they can go to hell in a handcart for all I care. I choose to work for the best because I think I’m the best at what I do.”
She gives us the biggest wink I think I have ever seen, and that’s when I notice all the other customers listening to our conversation. She is definitely at the top of her game, I think to myself.
One of the customers, a guy that obviously spends a lot of time at the gym, asks Autumn about the steampunk and cyborg stuff that he overheard. She shows him a few photos and then grabs Scribe from reception, where he’d gone to check the computer for his next appointment.
“You have an hour to kill, Scribe. Could you spend twenty to thirty minutes doing a personal design for this guy’s lower arm, please?”
The guy starts to protest because he wants the whole of his upper arm, shoulder, and pectoral muscle done. Sitting him down, Autumn explains that it would take several sittings to complete, and that he wouldn’t be visiting the gym for some considerable time doing it his way. Following her idea, which was starting at his forearm and then working up in small sections, it would heal quicker and he could adjust his training easier to suit smaller tattooed areas, that would eventually be one huge sleeve.
I watch him digest this and then agree. She has just sold him a tattoo that will keep an artist going with several weeks’ work and the business will make far more overall. The customer will pay smaller amounts at a time and end up with a stunning piece of artwork forever. Genius. Autumn and Cord should get their heads together, I’m thinking.
Seeing the time, I nudge Trip and remind him I have to be at the salon for Zara’s meeting in a couple of hours and need to eat first. Taking our leave, we bid the tattoo shop farewell and head for the clubhouse.
Once back at the clubhouse, I visit the little girls' room. All that throbbing and pulsing on that hog has me dying for a pee, among other feelings, and then it’s to the kitchen for lunch. Seeing Josie on her own, I wonder what lunch is going to be.
There’s a buffet-style lunch of cooked meats and salad items laid out across one counter. By the stove there are plates of bread and butter beside a couple of slow cookers filled with soup. Not too shabby, I think to myself and give Josie a nod that says well done.
Having thoroughly enjoyed my meat and salad, I go for a quick freshen up and then meet Zara so we can head out to the salon. Once again, I’m pleasantly surprised by the work that’s been put in to get the place ready for opening day. From the outside, everything is clean and fresh, even the parking lot looks like it’s had a brush run over it.
Entering the salon, Zara walks me through all the work that has been done to prepare for the big day. I can’t see a spot of dust anywhere and everything looks brand new. I know that almost everything I’m seeing was left behind by the previous owner, but Zara and her team have polished everything so you would never know.
Hearing Natalie call Zara’s name has me once again thinking that they’ll make a great team. They hug as soon as they see each other and they look at each other more like siblings than boss and employee. Making our way upstairs, I find a small patio table and four chairs have already been set up.
“I had these in my garage and I have never used them, so I thought they’d fit in here until we ultimately decide what we’re doing with this space. I hope that’s okay?”
Natalie looks first at Zara, then me.
Holding my hands up, I say, “I’m only involved in this as a business consultant for Zara. You guys can do whatever you want as long as Zara is okay with it.”
“It’s okay for the time being, as long as you’re okay taking it home when the space is needed? If we decide to go with the nail bar, we’ll have nowhere for it. It’s not like we have a storage area or an outside space to use it at break times.”
Zara looks at me with wide eyes and I’ll ask her about that later.
“We already have the people in place that we need, so that’s a great start. We don’t want to be reaching opening day and be short a stylist, or anything else. We have Sierra, a qualified stylist with experience.”
“I assume she will be the lowest paid on the books?”
Natalie asks, and I’m not sure why. That’s a bit of an obvious thing to say, considering the positions held by everyone else. Looking at Zara, I see her frowning.
“I’m not planning on anyone being the lowest paid, long term, Natalie. I want everyone to be multi-skilled and all at the same pay rate as soon as possible. You will have the highest salary as far as employees go, purely by being the manager. August, as a stylist and later, hopefully, the nail bar technician will be next. I won’t be taking a wage, as the majority shareholder I will take my payment from any profits that I don’t put back into the business. Until the business takes off, which I don’t think will be long, wages are going to be fairly low. Once the client base is built up and we’re working at full capacity, the bonus should give everyone an excellent income.”
Zara is speaking like a seasoned owner and I could not be prouder of her. Natalie, however, has me a little worried. There seem to be some cracks appearing in her veneer, if I’m not mistaken.
“Let’s leave the salaries out of it for a while. No new business is going to be flush with cash straight from the beginning. I’ll be the apprentice stylist under your tutoring for the practical side of gaining my qualification. The study and theory side I will do via an online course or at the local beauty college. I don’t know as yet what their curriculum is for these studies until they release their schedule. I will still have the final say in any business decisions along with the President of the MC, as they are the other shareholders.”
“This isn’t exactly the way I was seeing the business being run. I’m not comfortable being a manager in name only. I thought I’d be running the salon and teaching you along the way.”
Natalie seems quite heated, and I thought that was what Zara was explaining. “I don’t think I can defer every decision to an apprentice whenever something has to be said or done.”
Zara folds her paperwork and replaces it in her folder. “I’ll help you put your table and chairs in your trunk, and then you can be on your way, Natalie. I won’t take up any more of your time.”
Natalie looks stunned. “You can’t fire me, just like that.”
“I didn’t fire you, Natalie. You just quit in front of an independent witness. You said that you can’t defer to an apprentice. Very well. Unfortunately, the apprentice, as you are well aware, is the business owner. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for both of us.”
I am astonished at how Zara has just handled what could have been an unpleasant situation. I know I wouldn’t have been so calm and collected about it.
“You can keep the table and chairs. I’m done here.”
Natalie is behaving as though she has been so harshly treated and yet she is the one that brought this on herself. I’m flabbergasted at the nerve of the woman, I really am.
“Your table and chairs will be in the rear parking lot if you change your mind. I don’t want them, just as I don’t want you or your shitty attitude. Is that clear? Now get the hell out of my building before I get the other shareholders down here and have them remove you.”
Zara hasn’t raised her voice once, but I can see her hands begin to shake and if Natalie isn’t out of here soon, I don’t think the MC will be needed to remove her.