Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RILEY
“This is bullshit,” Pirate Bill says.
“Total load of crap,” Big Jo agrees.
Ali wipes oil off their hands with a rag. “The whole damn town has decided that we’re the bad guys.”
The employees are all gathered up front, watching the protesters who have taken up residence on the sidewalk outside the garage. It’s been a couple days since the newspaper article came out, and the pressure is only building.
“It is bullshit,” Chase agrees. “But all we can do is move forward. We can’t let this get us down.”
“Chase is right,” I say as I walk up front to join them. “We’re mechanics. It’s our job to perform good, quality work for our customers.” I gesture to the protesters. “Don’t let this nonsense distract you from the job.”
“I had someone yell at me in the checkout line at the grocery store,” Little Joe says.
“Yeah,” Ali agrees as they push a hand through their shaggy hair. “My landlord confronted me about it when I was taking out the trash.”
Everyone starts talking at once, and Chase claps his hands to get their attention. “Won’t matter what the neighborhood thinks if we don’t fix the bikes for our current customers,” he says.
“We’ve got to do something,” Pirate Bill insists. “We’ve got to stand up for ourselves! Every one of us here knows what it’s like to be an outcast. If we let them treat us this way, we’re finished. Might as well shut down the business and move away now.”
The garage echoes with everyone’s agreement.
“No one is shutting down the garage,” Chase insists.
“Damn right they aren’t,” I bark out. “And fixing bikes is the first step in standing up for ourselves. This isn’t just a job, and the garage isn’t just the roof over our heads.
It’s honest, dependable people building something for yourselves.
For us. So Chase and I will deal with public opinion.
You fix bikes because that’s who we are. Got it?”
When I cast a steady look around the group, everyone reluctantly disperses, returning to their work stations. Chase catches my eye and nods to the office, and I follow him back.
“Nice speech,” he says as soon as he closes the door. “We’re fucked.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“Incoming business is dwindling. And customers keep bringing up the article, asking why we aren’t doing more to preserve the neighborhood.”
I shake my head, frustrated. “That article was a hit job. Didn’t even mention the steps we are taking to try and compromise.”
I thought I’d gotten us on better footing with Finn, at least, but I was dead wrong.
He wasn’t kidding when he said that the hookup wasn’t going to change anything.
Our businesses are in direct conflict, and he’s got way more ammunition on his side than I initially gave him credit for.
I really shot myself in the foot and acted like an ass when I dismissed his initial concerns.
And with the entire gayborhood seemingly behind him, he could sink us for good if he decided to.
I sure have given him enough reasons to hate me.
Any fantasies that we could get along have been extinguished.
It’s my own damn fault for the way I acted, and hell, for wanting him to like me.
We might have enjoyed a hot hookup, but we’re rivals.
He’s friendly and warm, beloved by the whole town, and I’m the rude asshole who came to ruin everything.
Doesn’t help that I keep thinking about him. Remembering how good it felt to touch him.
It makes me want to retreat into my books or a good movie. The real world just sucks sometimes.
“Maybe you could have told that reporter what we’ve done,” Chase says, “instead of barking at her that we’re not going anywhere.”
I hold my hands up, surrendering. “You’re right. I fucked up. But that’s why we hired a PR firm, right? We need to trust the professionals on this one.”
He nods. “I’ve got a meeting scheduled with the firm this afternoon. And I was planning to send a response to that letter Finn delivered, but I’m going to have them look at it first, as well as a lawyer. We can’t afford any missteps.”
“We’ll do whatever the professionals recommend,” I tell him. “Whatever it takes to keep the garage open. You and I both know what a loss it is when a garage shuts down.”
When the place we started our careers closed suddenly, Chase and I were both fucked.
We each had to move to find new work, and despite growing close to the rest of the crew, we all fell out of touch.
We didn’t just lose jobs, we lost a community, and it took Chase and I both years to land somewhere decent again.
I’d never been able to stay at one place for more than a couple years since.
Despite the drop in customers, I manage to keep myself busy for the rest of the day.
Finn has yet to join the protest line outside, and I don’t run into him on the street, either, which is a relief.
We’d probably erupt in another argument, which could hurt both of our businesses, and any witnesses would likely decide I’m the villain.
Which, I realize, I kind of am.
When I get back to my apartment, I scarf down some leftover chicken curry and crack a beer, which I drink in the shower.
Sitting on the couch in my robe, I open up my email and check to see if there’s anything new from MorningEnthusiast. Some horny fae-on-vampire sex should put me in a better mood.
There’s no new message, but once again, I catch him online.
I hesitate like before, but I’m eager for a sympathetic ear, so I force myself to open the chat.
NotAnOgre: An important question has crossed my mind. Do prophecies extend across multiple dimensions?
MorningEnthusiast: Interesting! Just because something is destined in our plane of reality, that doesn’t mean it’s destined in every other plane. Hence the infinite possibilities of the multiverse.
NotAnOgre: Only one way for our heroes to find out.
MorningEnthusiast: Fuck in every dimension they can enter?
NotAnOgre: Great minds.
MorningEnthusiast: Sorry that I’m a little slow with my contribution. Life has been hectic.
NotAnOgre: Not a problem. Still dealing with professional problems?
MorningEnthusiast: I successfully fought back and might have won, although some of my allies went further than I hoped. Now I’m just struggling with residual guilt. My punches landed harder than I intended. Metaphorically, of course! I’d never hit someone.
NotAnOgre: I’m sure you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. You did what you needed to, so don’t let anyone give you shit for it. And hey, congratulations on winning your battle, slugger.
MorningEnthusiast: Thanks! How about your situation?
NotAnOgre: Not great. I played it nice and tried to compromise, but it was too little, too late. Made a big mess, and now I’m in deeper shit than before.
MorningEnthusiast: Yikes, sorry to hear that.
NotAnOgre: My own fault, honestly. Hey, I’m glad one of us is coming out on top.
MorningEnthusiast: I took your advice and tried to find an outlet for all my emotions.
NotAnOgre: Oh yeah, did it help?
MorningEnthusiast: Not exactly. Possibly, I’m just more worked up than I was before. But I did have fun trying to exorcise the demons. Again, I mean that metaphorically, of course.
NotAnOgre: Demons would be a hell of a problem. Literally.
MorningEnthusiast: Rim-shot. Do you have a plan to turn things around?
NotAnOgre: Does escaping into a world of fantasy and adventure count?
MorningEnthusiast: Hey, that’s my plan, too! A dependable epic to distract from the lingering complications of my success.
NotAnOgre: Nice. Immersive stories can fix anything.
MorningEnthusiast: Haha, I wouldn’t go quite that far. But there’s nothing quite as refreshing as leaving this reality, even for a temporary break.
NotAnOgre: Exactly.
A moment passes with neither of us typing. I try to picture him on the other end somewhere, perched at his laptop or maybe sitting behind a desk. When the image starts to take shape in my mind, I realize that I’m imagining Finn, and I quickly shake my head to chase the thought away.
I really need to stop fixating on that guy. It’s embarrassing. There’s no way he’s into me.
MorningEnthusiast: Please tell me if you’d rather I never bring this up again, but considering we’re both somewhere in this great state of New York… wouldn’t it be wild if we met in person?
My pulse kicks. I sit up straight and hurriedly type my reply.
NotAnOgre: That would be wild. Feels kind of risky, too, to be honest.
MorningEnthusiast: I know it’s against our rules. And like I said, if you’re not interested, I am more than happy to keep things exactly the way they are.
NotAnOgre: If we met, you might hate me.
MorningEnthusiast: And you might hate me.
NotAnOgre: I doubt that. Not gonna lie, though. The idea of getting together has crossed my mind.
MorningEnthusiast: It just seems like too much of a coincidence that we’re close, right? Anyway, I don’t want to rush anything. But maybe think on it. It could be a lot of fun to finally put a face to the mysterious not-ogre I’ve grown so fond of.
NotAnOgre: Yeah, I will. Although if we meet, I don’t know how I’m going to hide the reality that I’m a full-time robot role-player from you.
MorningEnthusiast: I’ll tell you now and get it out of the way, I only speak in rhyming couplets and I’ve never cut my hair.
NotAnOgre: Funny, I’ve never cut my toenails.
MorningEnthusiast: Haha, gross! Anyway, I should get going. We’ll pick this up later?
NotAnOgre: Sounds good. Take care.
I close the laptop and realize that I’m grinning to myself. My belly feels tingly, nervous and excited energy swirling as I consider the possibility.
MorningEnthusiast wants to meet me, and despite every reservation and insecurity rearing up, I can’t deny that I want to meet him, too.