Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RILEY
The morning of Pride, Little Joe steps into the garage and cups both hands over his mouth. He’s wearing an old cut-off Harley Davidson T-shirt and tight denim shorts with his biker boots. “Who’s ready for a big, gay party?” he calls out, and the entire garage full of mechanics and bikers cheers.
I open my mouth to tell the showboat to shut his trap, then change my mind.
I’m learning to appreciate the way this neighborhood commits to having a good time.
Finn’s dogged good-spirits have helped me to see the importance in that, and I know it’s something the bikers need, too.
Hell, all I have to do is consider the fun I have writing stories with MorningEnthusiast to remember that this kind of thing matters.
There’s music blaring, not just in the garage but on the street outside, and every bike I can see is decorated with colorful flags, garlands of flowers, and gaudy accessories. After a decent run in the scavenger hunt and a turn in public opinion, the mechanics are riding high.
Still, it’s no excuse to get sloppy. I finish making my last round, assuring myself that everything valuable and dangerous is safely locked away.
There’s less than an hour until the parade starts off, and for the first time, I can truly see Chase’s vision taking shape, and Liberty Garage becoming a hub for the queer bikers.
Now we just need to make sure that the rest of the block thrives, too.
Big Jo cups her hands over her mouth. “Dykes on Bikes!” she yells out, earning another cheer.
“Dykes on Bikes!” Ali yells back as they sit on their ride.
I shake my head, but I can’t help but half-smile to myself, too. After a rocky summer getting the shop up and running, it’s good to see everyone in a celebratory mood.
Chase emerges from the rear of the garage with a few people from the PR team, who are shooting pictures and taking notes.
Like every year, the gay bikers association is running a fundraiser today for the community center, and the professionals are eager to capitalize on the opportunity for good press.
Pirate Bill slaps me on the back. He’s got a beer in one hand and rainbow beads hanging over his bare chest. “Hey, big guy,” he says. “Got your eye on any action today?” He nods toward the back of the garage. “Don’t know if you’re into silver daddies, but my buddy thinks you’re hot.”
I don’t even look to see who his buddy is. “Everyone gets all worked up and horny at Pride,” I tell him. “Not my style.”
He nods with a laugh. “I always get caught up in the collective energy.”
“I’m good at resisting that kind of thing.”
He snorts. “That you are. I spotted that wad of cash you shoved in the fundraiser box, though. Can’t say you aren’t participating.”
I pat him on the back, wrapping this up before he talks any more about my sex life. “Have fun out there today. Stay safe.”
Pirate Bill shakes his ass. “Prrrrr-ide!” he bellows out, earning another cheer from the crowd.
I’m already exhausted.
Once I finish checking all the locks, I head out to the street, which is bustling with people.
Across the crowd, I see that Finn is out front on the patio, chatting and serving rainbow scoops to passing revelers.
A sign declares that all the profits are going to the gay theater, and the director, Harry, stands beside him in full Cher drag.
Despite their setup, though, I notice that many people are walking past, eyes averted. Nearby, I spot a few other business owners on the block, huddled together with depressed expressions, a stark contrast to the party around them.
Ever since we started the PR campaign to defend the garage, the protests outside our shop have quieted down, but it’s also resulted in people giving Finn and the rest of the block grief for coming against us.
I know his business has already struggled with our introduction to the neighborhood, and I worry that our success is coming at further cost to everyone else, which isn’t a real solution.
Chase even sent that letter his lawyers crafted, claiming no fault for any disruption. I understand the legal reasoning behind it, but I hate how that must have landed.
Hate the idea especially that I’m still making life hard for Finn.
I’ve been so wrapped up in my commitments to the garage; it’s made me act like a hypocrite.
I’ve got to turn the corner on this and start valuing the gayborhood and the people who live here the way they all deserve.
Otherwise, what’s the damn point of anything?
In all the mayhem, Finn doesn’t notice me, and I take a moment to watch him. He’s wearing a pink T-shirt that advertises The Scoop, and he’s got colorful flowers artfully stuck in his curly hair. There’s a warm, tingly feeling behind my ribs as I look on.
By the time Chase walks out to the street, I’ve made up my mind.
“Ready for the parade?” he asks.
“Almost. Realized I need the crew to take care of something for me first.”
He chuckles. “Good luck getting them to work today.”
“Not work,” I say, and tilt my eyes across the street. “The rest of the gayborhood is coming along to liking us, but what good is that if we’ve fucked up the people on our block?”
Chase sucks in a breath. “You know I agree with you that this situation needs more attention, but fixing it is a tall order. Let’s you and I talk about ways to mitigate the blowback, pick this up again next week. Let the crew enjoy today for what it is.”
“Yes to talking next week. Can’t fix it in an afternoon,” I agree and pull out my wallet.
“But we can start. Let’s send the mechanics over for a cone.
On me. It will get our crew talking with everyone else, and the rest of the gayborhood will see us supporting the ice cream shop.
Maybe help them realize they don’t need to make our neighbors our enemy. ”
Chase thinks about it and nods, impressed. “Generous of you.”
I huff. “Damn Pride. Messes with even my head.”
Instead of heading to The Scoop with everyone else, I give Chase my card and walk off to prepare for the parade.
I tried to apologize and make right with Finn at the bookstore, but as time passes, it still feels like my words were insufficient.
Actions have more currency, anyway. Once I’ve come up with a plan to do something substantial, I’ll give it another try.
I’m joining the biker association on the parade route, so I suit up and get on my cruiser.
We roll out together, rumbling down the street until we find our place in line on the other side of the main drag.
We’ve got people riding on the edges who are handing out flyers about the history of our group along with candy and plastic rainbow motorcycle necklaces, as well as some people on foot collecting for the fundraiser.
I shove on my helmet and find my place in the middle of it all, eager to disappear in the crowd as I take it in.
Funny, I’ve only been in Allentown a couple months, but I already see plenty of people and places that I recognize, and not just among the bikers.
It’s a good crowd here in the gayborhood, and with plenty of real personalities, too.
I’ll be on my way when this gig is done.
It’s not in my future to be a part of this.
But rumbling along the parade route, I can truly see how good it would be for Chase and the rest of Liberty Garage to find their place.
They deserve this, and we all deserve a neighborhood that hasn’t been disrupted and thrown into chaos by feuding neighbors.
MorningEnthusiast must live somewhere nearby.
He suggested Buffalo as a place for us to meet.
If I really hit things off with him, would that change my future?
It’s not my style to alter my plans for another person.
I’m happy cruising and doing my own thing.
And hell, we haven’t even laid eyes on each other.
But I can’t help but fantasize for a moment that I could stick around, too.
That there could be a future with him here, a home for me in Allentown and at Chase’s shop with all these knucklehead mechanics.
Maybe I’d even attend one of those book clubs that Finn likes, or help solve puzzles for next year’s scavenger hunt.
Although there’s no way in hell I’ll embarrass myself with a costume.
Once the parade wraps up, the middle of the gayborhood is consumed by a dance party.
I slowly make my way back toward the garage, winding through the crowd, forced to idle every time a roaming party crowds the road.
The sun is warm with a few soft clouds. After I check in on the garage and store my bike, I might wander back through just to take in the weather, although I know I’ll retreat to my home soon enough.
There’s only so much good nature a man can take. And that random tentacle horror I picked up at the bookstore is pretty decent. I keep meaning to tell MorningEnthusiast about it.
I try to take a side street, although the crowd is spilling out everywhere.
When I roll up in front of my apartment, I decide I might as well stash my bike here and walk the rest of the way to the garage.
Soon as I’m back out front, I see that a drag king boy band has set up shop at the intersection, where they’re performing in perfect sync behind a sign declaring them Hairy Styles and the Pun Direction.
I look for any way around the crowd, but as the group launches into “Best Dong Ever,” the assembled audience is too big to move through.
“Riley!”
I turn and am surprised to see Finn standing immediately next to me. The flowers in his hair are slightly askew, and his cheeks are glowing, a clear sign he’s been wrapped up in the excitement of the day.
“Oh. Finn.” I rub the back of my head, not sure what to say. “Thought you were working at The Scoop.”
“I’ve been relieved for a few hours. I like to take in the festivities before I work the evening shift.”