Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RILEY
The bookstore conversation with Finn is still fresh in my mind as Chase and I meet with the PR firm at the garage. My primary responsibility is to Chase and the business, but that’s no reason to act like an ass and dismiss everyone else’s concerns.
I’ve been defensive on behalf of the mechanics, and probably because of my own sob story, too. Just wish I had realized that before things spiraled out of control.
“Unfortunately,” says Sloan, the head of the firm, “the chance to fly under the radar has passed. That’s why we’ve put together an aggressive campaign to counter-message the bad rep you’re developing.”
Zeke, her partner, nods in agreement as he hands Chase and me each a binder. We’re huddled together in the office at the back of the garage, the mechanics clanging and banging away at their jobs up front.
“We’re suggesting a strategy on several fronts,” Zeke says. “Local news. Customer relations. Social media.”
I flip through the pages, already hating this.
Chase frowns, too. “Is this really necessary?” he asks. “We’re bikers. For the most part, that means we prefer to be left alone.”
Both Zeke and Sloan turn their eyes up front. Through the window, we see the protest still gathered on the street. There’s a guy in hot pink overalls handing out papers that describe the negative impact we’re having on the local community.
“You might prefer to be left alone,” Sloan says, “but if your bottom line is already taking a hit, you can’t afford to hide.
Frankly, there’s an economic crunch in the neighborhood, and on top of contributing to that stress, you’re a loud, convenient place for anxiety to coalesce. This isn’t going away.”
“Think of it this way,” Zeke tries. “You’re not just playing defense. You’re taking advantage of this opportunity to define the garage. It’s a chance to announce your brand.”
Chase rubs his forehead. “Branding. Never was too good at that part of running a business.”
I frown at the notes. I’m as reluctant as Chase is to go on a publicity blitz, but I know the professionals are right.
“If we don’t do anything,” I say, “our brand is going to be loud assholes.”
Zeke chuckles, but when he sees the look on my face, stops smiling.
“The good news is that you’ve got plenty of material to work with,” Sloan says. “I’m already familiar with the community work that the biker organizations have done over the years, fundraisers and rallies that directly support gayborhood causes.”
Zeke nods. “But we still need more from you. We need to get at the emotional heart of your garage. The soul.”
“Cleaning carburetors and replacing tension belts?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” Sloan replies. “Why’d you open the garage in the first place? What are the passions behind this business?”
“Cleaning carburetors is a passion,” I mutter.
Chase glances out to the garage, where the mechanics are all trying to stay busy despite the steadily decreasing workload.
“A lot of bikers have had rough lives,” he says finally. “They’re tough people who don’t always fit in with the rest of society easily. They need that sense of freedom that you can find on the open road.”
“We’re often outcasts,” I agree. “But the bikes give people a way to relate.”
Sloan nods. “That’s it,” she says. “Perfect.”
Zeke jots down a few notes. “Ask around with your mechanics and some of your regulars. Find people who are willing to share their stories. Our social media team will package it up, and we’ll plan some events to drive the message home. Maybe a major fundraiser for a community org?”
“Pride is coming up,” Sloan adds. “Got any plans?”
“We were considering a party at the garage,” Chase says. “Although I’d decided, with all the protest lines, that now wasn’t the right time for that.”
“On the contrary,” Zeke says. “Now is the perfect time.”
Sloan nods. “And the community scavenger hunt is this Sunday. Maybe you could put a team together.”
Chase chuckles. “Doubt the mechanics will go for that. I heard it requires themed costumes.”
Sloan shrugs. “Pride should be enough. We’ll be in touch.”
After they exit, Chase and I share a glance.
“Social media,” I say. “You had a Myspace when I first met you, if I remember. You still got the password? I think you had swoopy emo hair in the profile pic.”
“Fuck off,” he says with a sigh. “But what the hell else are we going to do? The entire gayborhood hates us, and I’ve sunk my life savings into this business. Not to mention the loans I took out, and the promises I made these mechanics. We’ve got big plans.”
I rub my friend’s shoulder. “Right. We’ll do what we’ve got to do.
” I hesitate for a moment, remembering Finn’s request from the bookstore.
“And maybe that could include the scavenger hunt? We still need to shut down for an afternoon to install the two extra lifts. We could close for Sunday, schedule the work then, and free the mechanics up to form a team.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Did you just suggest something social? And with themed costumes?”
“I wouldn’t do the scavenger hunt. Hell no.” The idea horrifies me. “The mechanics would. They can call themselves the scavengers or something. Dress like rats and vultures so they still feel cool.”
“How would we convince them?”
Finn asked for discretion when he made his request. He and I butt heads all the time, but my gut tells me that he wouldn’t steer me wrong on this.
He’s not a liar, and especially on this matter, when it comes to the gayborhood, I know he wants what’s best. If the PR team suggests it, too, it’s worth considering.
No better way to get the protest to go away for a day than shutting down the business they’re protesting.
“It’s a way for us to participate,” I tell Chase. “The gayborhood here, it’s a unique place, and we should be part of making it special, not a detriment to everyone’s success. We could offer the mechanics their hourly rate to sweeten the deal.”
He frowns. “So, spending more of my money?”
“We’ll have to shut down to schedule the installation eventually,” I point out.
Chase sighs. “Okay. Let me see what’s possible.” He shakes his head. “It’s all headaches lately. You regret taking me up on this mess? I know I promised a good time, metal shows and biker parties.”
“It’s fine.” I give him a nod so he knows I mean it. “And you know I’m not here for the parties. Hell, I got a new book to read tonight. That’s all I need.”
“I guess that’s something.”
I think again about the encounter with Finn in the bookstore. Just goes to figure he’d be after the same novel as me. Seems I can’t turn around without seeing that guy, and despite how hard I’m trying to forget our encounter at the con, he’s still occupying my fantasies, too.
The charge between us is electric. I’m not always sure if that’s a good thing or just trouble, but every time I see him, my pulse kicks and my thoughts get all fuzzy.
Haven’t told Chase what happened, and I hope I never will. Finn and I said we were leaving it in that hotel room, so things can stay professional. No reason to bring it up. Too embarrassing.
Must be all the pressure is building, though, because I decide I am ready to share with Chase about the other thing currently taking up all my head space. I need some perspective instead of continuing to stew in my own doubts.
“I’m considering meeting up with a guy,” I tell him, blurting it out of nowhere.
Chase perks up. “Oh yeah? Someone from an app or 'round the garage?”
I shake my head. “No. He’s a guy I’ve known for quite a while. Going on a few years now.”
“Here in Buffalo? How’s that?”
“No. Somewhere in New York. I’m not sure where.”
He tightens his brow. “Now you’ve lost me.”
I sigh, feeling self-conscious to admit this, but push ahead.
“We met on a message board, talking about a fantasy show we both liked.” I rub my chin.
“We liked it at first, at least. The last season was even pretty decent, except for some characterization issues. But when they got to the last episode—”
“Hold up,” Chase cuts me off. “You’re losing me. Is this all necessary?”
“Right.” I swallow and keep rambling. “We got chatting, is the thing, and started writing to each other. We’ve kept it anonymous, so I don’t know much about him. But in another way, I really do know him. And the thing is we write stories together.”
He leans forward, intrigued. “You write stories?”
“Fantasy, mainly.”
“And he likes men?”
“Yeah, he does.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Hold up. Are you writing... sexy stories?”
“None of your damn business,” I bark, really not wanting to get into that part of it with him. Hard enough to admit I’m interested in an amazing stranger from the internet who might not even be real.
Damn it, this is all so humiliating.
“The point is, I let slip that I’m in New York, and now we’re thinking about meeting up. I just have to decide if I want to do it.”
Chase nods, impressed. “Cool,” he says. “What kind of meetup are we talking here? A hookup? A date? Friends?” He studies me. “Have you seen a picture of him, or is this a possible catfish situation?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know what I want from him, or what I will want.
And you’re right. He and I have never even seen each other.
Hell, he might take one look at me and take off running.
You know I’m no social butterfly. So what am I even thinking, right?
I should probably just keep things simple, keep writing our stories and enjoying the thing we do have. I guess you’re right. I’ll cancel it.”
Chase gives me a teasing smile. “Damn. You really like this guy.”
I bury my face in my hands. “Fuck me.”
“Maybe he will, if you’re lucky. Although how you’re attracted to someone you’ve never seen, I’m not sure.”
Bad enough I’m so worked up about MorningEnthusiast. The fact that I’m still imagining Finn half the time I picture him only makes this all the more pathetic.
“You’re right. It’s ridiculous. I suck.”
Chase chuckles. “That’s not what I said.
And I doubt he’d turn and run away. You’re a good-looking guy, Riley, and you’d be a catch if you ever decided to settle down.
The fact that you like each other so much just from exchanging emails, that seems like a good reason to give it a chance, if you ask me. Which you are.”
I nod, glad to hear from someone else that I don’t seem like a total sap. “Still makes me sick to my stomach, the idea of putting myself on the line like that.”
“I get it,” he says. “Like we were telling the PR team, bikers are a peculiar bunch. And you’ve always liked to keep to yourself. I know you’re not close to your family, and I know you haven’t had a lot of friends, especially growing up. But you’ve been a good friend to me.”
“On top of being the biggest kid in my class, I was a gay nerd obsessed with fantasy novels and auto repair. Like I told you at the bar months ago, of course I didn’t have many friends. No one knew what the hell to do with me.”
Chase shrugs. “This guy might know what to do with you. Worth giving it a chance, at least.”
I nod. “Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.” I reach out and pat his arm. “You’re a good friend to me, too.”
“Maybe you should tell some of your story on our social media account. It’s the kind of tearjerker those PR types love.”
I laugh. “I’d rather trade my chopper for a tricycle.”
Chase grins. “Now that’s something I’d love to see.”
Before I head back to the garage to start the day’s work, I pull up a new email to MorningEnthusiast. If I’m going to do this, I better pull the trigger before I chicken out.
Let’s meet up. When are you free?