Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
FINN
The day after the scavenger hunt, chaos returns to the block.
The protesters are back in their regular positions, reinvigorated after yesterday’s festivities.
There are the motorcyclists, of course, but also a steady stream of customers here to support my business and the other local shops, buttressed with a healthy crowd of curious lookie-loos, wandering by to scope out the drama.
It keeps me on my toes all day, which I like.
Profits and sales are up, and I’ve seen just about every friend and acquaintance I have in Allentown.
But the man from the arts organization was far from impressed by his visit.
If I hadn’t intervened by inviting him to the art show, he might have rejected us outright.
Without Riley, it would have been a complete disaster.
I haven’t seen him since Sunday, but after our heart-to-heart in the bookstore, it seems like he’s trying to make amends.
Not only did he collaborate with the rest of us to make the event a success, he got his mechanics to participate in the fun, and even came to me when he overheard that phone call.
All things that I wouldn’t have expected a couple months ago.
Complicating matters, though, I received a formal response from Chase to the letter that the block drafted. Clearly vetted by a lawyer, it explains that Liberty Garage has no obligation to alter their business practice, admits no fault, and will only promise to continue to abide by relevant laws.
It’s a closed door, but I also know they’ve taken some steps to remedy things, and there has been a reduction in the noise. Not enough to return life to normal, but progress nonetheless.
There’s got to be a way to extend this truce, although how to get there with Riley lying low, I’m not sure. He’s become my best connection at the garage.
Not that I should be focusing my attention on him, professionally or personally. Especially when I’ve got a much more promising prospect on the horizon. I’ve agreed to meet NotAnOgre, someone whom I truly like in an uncomplicated, easy way, and the thought makes me flush.
Kenneth and Miranda walk out from the rear of the shop. We’re about to open for the day, and they’re each tying on their aprons.
“Second place again,” Kenneth complains. “I’m going to have to dress as a banana for the rest of my life.”
“Take a cue from my team. We don’t even try to win. Hell, we stopped for lunch on our way to clue three.”
The front door swings open, and Leon, the barber down the block, comes hurrying in.
“Here for an early double scoop?” Miranda asks, but Leon shakes his head.
“I’m afraid not. I have bad news.” He glances at all three of us with concern twisting his features. “We’re starting to look like the bad guys!”
I shake my head. “What are you talking about?” I ask, and he pulls his phone out as he hurries over.
“It’s Liberty Garage. They’ve launched a media campaign. Come to find out they’re not just a bunch of loud jerks. The things those bikers have been through! And despite everything they’ve done to the block, now it’s going to look like we’re the insensitive ones.”
When he holds his phone out, a video is playing. Professionally edited, it cuts together the stories of a few mechanics I recognize, each talking about the importance of motorcycles to their lives.
Little Joe: I always struggled in school. I couldn’t sit still, and the lessons stumped me. My teachers made me think I’d grow up to be a failure, but when I found motorcycle culture, I found an outlet for all my troubles. Bikes made sense, and in the garage, my energy was rewarded.
Dolores: My grandma was a biker. She raised me and taught me how to respect a machine. We didn’t have much money, and when I found myself on my own in high school, I didn’t know what to do. The motorcycle community took me in when no one else would.
Pirate Bill: I’ve never been good with people. Always too gruff, standoffish, and defensive. Bikers were the only ones willing to accept me for who I am. Hell, they celebrate me.
Leon closes the video. “It’s a disaster,” he says. “The rest of the gayborhood might think we’ve been bullying them.”
I grimace, my thoughts swirling as I process the video. “We haven’t bullied anyone. But I agree. This complicates things.” I take a deep breath. “This is more reason to bring the feud to a close,” I say, determined.
Something in the window catches my eye, and when I glance, I see a tattooed man glaring at us. He scrunches up his face even more before walking away.
Leon sighs. “This whole thing is going to blow up in our faces.” He shoves his phone back in his pocket. “I’ve got to get back for a shave. But I thought, as our fearless leader, you’d want to know.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I call out after him.
“Damn,” Kenneth says as he looks at his phone. “Those videos are really making numbers.”
The mention of rising numbers worries me, so instead of ruminating over more videos, I grab a sign I’ve printed that advertises our upcoming Pride specials and head outside to hang it.
When I step on the street, Nicholas is approaching from down the block with Clay.
He’s wearing his standard floral T-shirt and suit jacket, while Clay is dressed for the carpentry crew, his heavy boots thudding on the pavement.
Grateful to see friends, I set the sign down, and we all exchange quick hugs.
“Out for a stroll?” I ask.
Clay rubs his hands together. “I’m on my way to see the Glube man.”
I blink, surprised, and lower my voice. “I didn’t know anyone actually visited that store,” I confess.
“That’s the reason I’m headed there,” Clay says.
Nicholas nods. “The building is falling into dangerous disrepair. And its prominent placement at the top of the gayborhood makes that a noticeable problem.”
I glance up the block, where I can just make out the store behind the bustle of the street. “A problem for your carpentry crew to solve?” I ask Clay.
“Hopefully. You know my boss. Sue likes to take on community projects, and she’s convinced the building might out and collapse one day.
Based on the apparent lack of sales, Xander the Glube man is unlikely to have the funds to renovate, so I’m approaching him to see if we can support.
Connect him to grants, donate some labor, that sort of thing. ”
“New deliveries of Glube ingredients go in,” Nicholas muses, “but you never seem to see Glube going out. It’s a mystery.” He takes Clay’s hand. “I’m just along for the stroll. How’s The Scoop today?”
I sigh. “Unfortunately, we might be headed off track again. The garage has launched a campaign to correct their image, and it may be tilting public opinion against us.” I glance to Clay.
“Sue has the right idea. It seems like the carpentry crew only takes on missions of goodwill, no neighborhood drama allowed.”
Clay chuckles. “Actually, that’s why she’s sending me on this particular errand. Sue has a long-standing grudge with Xander. Apparently, in the eighties, something unforgivable happened involving a magnolia tree, a birthday party, and pink champagne. I didn’t get the details.”
“But she’s still trying to find a way to help him out,” I note.
“The gayborhood comes first for Sue,” Nicholas says. “She’s lived here long enough for her fair share of dramas, but I’ve never seen her let them get in the way of what she wants to accomplish for the community.”
I nod. “That’s how I want to approach this situation with the garage, although I just got a letter from Chase that reasserts their right to be loud.
Anyway, whatever tensions exist on the block, this isn’t a zero-sum game.
I know we can all thrive if we choose to work together.
” I notice someone arguing across the street with a biker and shake my head.
Kavya walks up to us, a basket of flowers on her arm. “If it isn’t my favorite guys.” She looks to Nicholas and Clay. “How’s the Glube man?”
Nicholas laughs. “We’re still on the way, actually. You’re lapping us.”
Clay looks to me. “We left half an hour ago,” he explains. “Nicholas had to talk to everyone we passed.”
Kavya sets the flowers on a patio table. “As expected. There’s always something new to report in the gayborhood.”
“Making the deliveries?” I ask.
“It’s speed dating tonight at the Skylight Lounge. Just dropping off bouquets for the tables.” She tilts her head slightly to the side. “What if you went, and your secret pen pal was also there? Although even then, would it be worth it if you had to speed-date?”
I laugh. “No need.” I glance around to make sure no one passing is listening in. “We agreed to meet up.”
Nicholas’s mouth forms a perfect surprised O.
“A date?” Kavya asks.
I shrug. “We still haven’t even exchanged names.
He’s in the western part of the state, too.
I suggested Buffalo as a convenient location, but worded it carefully so I didn’t reveal that this is my home.
I don’t want to move too fast, but, I figured, why not give it a chance?
” I look across the street to the garage.
“It can’t be a worse idea than my other recent entanglement. ”
Nicholas smiles. “Hopefully it will be just as combustible, but in a different way.”
I nod. “I’m not opposed to casual fun, but you know I’m really looking for a serious relationship. Something deep and committed. A new friend would be nice, too. We’ll see what happens.”
“Kind of cool you don’t even know what he looks like,” Clay says.
“Devastatingly sexy with a brawny but geeky vibe, I hope.”
“So… like you-know-who?” Kavya teases with a nod across the street.
“Hey now,” I object with a laugh. “That’s not how I meant it.”
A man passing by on a moped slows in front of the garage. “I stand by the bikers!” he yells out to no one in particular, then speeds off. As Kavya raises a confused eyebrow to me, I yell out after the moped as friendly as I can.
“As do I! There’s room in the gayborhood for everyone!” I turn to Kavya. “There’s more to the story,” I say.
A few people pass me and enter The Scoop, and someone calls Nicholas’s name from down the street. The energy of the gayborhood begins to sweep us all up again.
Kavya shrugs. “Dinner soon to catch up? Mohammed called. He told me that a representative from an arts org confirmed he’ll be attending the exhibition to consider us for future funding.”
“Amazing!” Nicholas says.
“Yeah, no pressure,” Kavya replies dryly. “Just the financial health of the gayborhood riding on it.”
“Let us know how we can help,” I say.
A twink flies by on a pink skateboard, followed by two bears on a tandem bicycle.
Clay gestures after them. “I think that’s a good omen.”
“As good as any,” Kavya agrees as Nicholas and I laugh, and we all part ways with a promise to meet up again soon.
Before I head back inside, I glance across the street once more. Two of the protesters toss their signs in a trashcan before taking off. I’m glad to see them disperse, but I can’t help but notice the glare they each shoot my way before departing.