Chapter 2 #2
Shaking, I wake up, sweating from my nightmare. Phantom pains from that night wrack my body, and it makes me want to vomit. That was the second-worst night I had with my ex-boyfriend. He is a nightmare, but I don’t have to deal with him anymore. Locked away for life, he can’t hurt me anymore.
I sit up and stretch. My whole body is stiff and sore from sleeping on the concrete. Sleeping in an alley isn’t the way to go. I’ll have to try a bench tonight.
Walking toward the grocery store, I contemplate what little food I could get to satiate my hunger. I don’t know if I can even buy anything with my five dollars, but I want to try.
In the store, I head to the packaged breakfast area. Hopefully, something small will be cheap enough.
I eventually find a little muffin, which I eat while I walk to the garage. The weather is sunny and warm. I thought when I first came to this town that it would be very small, but it is bigger than I imagined.
As I make my way past an apartment complex, I turn to my right and see a little park.
It’s eight-thirty in the morning, so no one is at the park, but it looks peaceful.
Ahead of me is a row of shops. One looks to be a coffee shop on the corner.
Once I get enough money saved up, I might have to go check out that little coffee shop.
I haven’t had tea or coffee in forever because Jared always kept me on a strict diet.
I look to my left, watching for any cars before I cross the street. This street leads to the garage. As I near the end of the road, I see Pres standing in front of the main entrance, his arms crossed.
“Hello, Brooke. Follow me and I’ll show you to the garage, and introduce you to who will be working with,” Gunner says.
With a nod, I follow him. I wonder if the person I am working with will also be the one watching over me. I don’t really like the idea of someone keeping an eye on me, but if it lets me keep the job, I will go along with it.
We approach a big, tall man covered with tattoos. His back is facing us as we get closer to him. He has long brown hair that is pulled into a small bun.
“This is Gears. He owns the garage and is who will be watching you. He was out yesterday, but whenever you work, he or someone else will be here,” Pres says.
Gears turns around and gives me a glare before shock fills his face.
He looks up and down my body, and then at Pres, who nods.
His body language screams that he is uncomfortable.
I guess he noticed me looking and changed his stance, making him look bigger.
I take a step back and avert my eyes. His long hair reminds me of Jared’s, the way he puts it up, and it makes me uneasy.
I hug myself tighter the longer I feel his stare.
“Hello there, little lady. What's your name?” Gears asks.
I look up at his chest, not making eye contact with him. Out of my peripheral, I see him turning his head to the side, almost like he is trying to figure me out.
“Her name is Brooke, and she is mute,” Pres responds for me.
“That’s perfectly fine. I’m not much of a talker, so we will get along just great!” Gears replies with a smile.
I give him a small smile back. Looking around, I wonder what side of the garage I will be on and how everything will work. Mechanics usually stay on one side to do their work, or at least that’s how it worked at my last job.
“Gears, keep an eye on her, and show her what she needs to do. I’ve got stuff to do,” Pres says, walking out of the garage.
Gears looks at me, and he gives me a big smile. “Follow me.”
He walks over to the left side of the garage and starts to point at things.
“This is your side of the garage. Every once in a while, we will work together on something, but normally, you’ll work on your own stuff. If you need help, don’t hesitate to come and ask. This is where you can get your tools from.”
I nod, taking it all in. It isn’t a lot of information, but I don’t want to forget something and make a fool out of myself. I need to make sure to do everything well so I don’t get fired.
“At some point, I will get you a book to write in if you have any questions. Right now, we will just use my phone to communicate,” he offers.
I give him a small smile and nod. He walks over to a device and turns it on.
“This log over here is what is going to happen in the next couple of days. Once you are done, you can check it off, and one of the prospects will come and collect the vehicle. You don’t have to worry about getting the next vehicle. The prospects do that for us,” he says.
I have no clue what a prospect is, but I guess I will find out when they collect the vehicles from my part of the shop.
“All right, the car you are working on for the morning is already here. There is a piece of paper on the windshield with what is wrong with it or what the customer described as wrong,” Gears says, moving his hand to point at the car.
I flinch at the fast movement and back away. Gears stops and frowns before he walks over to his part of the garage.
Turning to my side of the garage, I reach to look at the paper on the car, but I am interrupted when Gears begins talking again.
“You know, I don’t know why Pres said that I needed to watch you. You are harmless and have a calm vibe. I don’t think you could hurt anyone.”
I shrug and get back to work. The day goes on in the same way.
Gears talks a lot, despite him claiming he isn’t a conversationalist, and I use my hands to respond.
I am still wary about Gears, even though he has been friendly.
His glare and the way he puffed himself up made it feel like a challenge, so I’m a little on edge.
It’s been a week since I started working at the garage, and I finally got a room at the motel.
In the beginning, all the bikers tried to get to know me, but I never responded.
Now, there are only a few who still try to talk to me.
I ignore them most of the time, but sometimes I will write something for them.
They have all been rowdier today, saying someone is finally coming back.
I don’t really care if people are coming; I just want them to leave me alone.
They all see me cower when they step close to me or make fast movements, but they still talk to me.
Gunner has also asked me to help serve drinks at the bar in their club.
He said he would pay me extra, so I didn’t complain.
I get off work at five or six in the evening and stay until midnight with a break to eat dinner.
He also said that I could always have Sundays off and would be called in some Saturdays, but not all of them.
They also provided lunch and dinner for me.
Gunner felt bad the first couple of days when I didn’t eat anything and told me that someone would bring me lunch and dinner, and I could have thirty minutes to an hour off.
I must have had a look of objection because he quickly informed me that I couldn’t say no.
Apparently, he gives his workers a free lunch.
I believe most of his workers are also part of the club, making me the only outsider.
“You can be done in the garage for today. Go relax a little before heading to the bar. Tonight, Bear is coming home, and it’s going to be busy.” Gears grins at me.
Nodding, I look at Gears. He has been super sweet to me despite his cold, closed-off appearance.
With tattoos littering his skin, and his stony gaze, it’s hard to believe that he is a gentle giant who loves talking so much it is sometimes overwhelming and annoying because I can’t always respond.
He normally does not smile, and always gives people glares.
I have warmed up to him a little bit, but I am still wary around him.
I keep an eye on him when we are working and position myself to where I can find an exit and watch him.
He has asked me about it, but I just shrug or pretend I don’t hear him.
“I left some food in the fridge with your name on it. The guys know not to touch your food,” he says.
Nodding, I finish putting my tools away and make my way toward the bar instead of the kitchen. I’m not very hungry, so I will save the food for later.
The first couple of times I worked in the bar, the guys would try and talk to me.
I wouldn’t reply, and eventually Gunner told them that I was mute.
That didn’t stop them from talking to me.
They knew I wouldn’t reply, but they didn’t mind.
I was new and had ears that worked, and they wanted to talk.
They also knew that I wouldn’t talk and tell anyone their information.
I don’t know why they trusted me because I could easily write it on a piece of paper instead.
“Brooke, what are you doing at the bar? Gears told me that you were going to be eating and taking a break,” Ink asks.
On my second day here, I met Ink. He is the club tattooist, and does an amazing job.
He is probably five-foot-five and has muscles, but isn’t as big as the other guys around here.
He is the other person who was told to watch over me when I worked in the bar.
After a week, Pres told me they weren’t going to watch me as much, but that if I did anything out of place, they would have a chat with me.
I let out a sigh and shake my head. I don’t want to eat. Pres must have said something about making sure I was eating because all of these guys watch me like a hawk.
“Nope, you have to eat. Gears said you didn’t eat much for lunch, and you need to eat before Bear comes back. Things will be in full swing, and you probably won’t have time to yourself until midnight,” Ink says, standing from his seat.
Wringing my hands together, I turn around. Maybe if Ink sees me eat a little, he will let me be. I really don’t want to, but if it gets him off my case about eating, I will at least take a couple of bites.