Chapter 10
Sloane
Aside from giving the café a deep cleaning, there are a few nitpicky little things that need to be addressed.
The first is the lighting. I installed brand new fixtures last year.
They’re rustic, a deep dark espresso that matches the vibe of the wooden beams and exposed brick walls.
I matched them to the tables and chairs.
I thought they were so great because they’re enclosed, so bugs can’t easily fall into them.
Unfortunately, I picked a bright white bulb, anticipating that it would give the café a brightly lit, cheerful air.
Honestly, they’ve been bugging me ever since. They don’t give cheer. The light is more retina scalding, hotel bathroom vibe.
Today is the day that I change them out for softer yellow lighting.
It’s a big process. There are twelve lights from the front to the back, behind the counter and all along the rows of tables. Each one takes twenty minutes. I have to unscrew the part that holds the bottom glass in place before I can get to the two bulbs.
Cruz offered, but I couldn’t let him do my work for me. How could he watch the security feeds if he has his hands over his head constantly? He watched me drag the stepladder out of the back storage area by my office and immediately came over to hold it for me.
I wanted to tell him not to bother, but I have to get up on the top rung to reach the lights, which is a little terrifying.
“How was the matcha latte?” I just want to make conversation.
We’re on our third light, and even though I know that Cruz is the strong, silent type, I’m far from used to it.
He’s below me and can study any bit of me from up here.
Not that he would. Unlike me, he doesn’t seem to have an inappropriate fixation with my body.
I mean, mine isn’t the problem for me either.
“Were you just being polite when you drank all of it?”
“It was good.”
I take a chance and glance down. My gaze collides immediately with his steely one. I linger just a second too long, counting the spokes and twists in his lovely irises.
Either he’s really good at lying, or he truly did enjoy it. I made us drinks as soon as we got in after dropping Liam off at the auto repair shop.
What a place that was. It’s on the other side of Hart, far away from the one I thought he worked at.
It was mostly bikes in there, stripped down, parts neatly piled, engines disassembled stuck on stands, but there were also cars on lifts.
Liam gave me the full tour. He showed me the paint booths, and a whole other section that was closed off and vented for body work because the smell is so strong.
It was a nice place. There was nothing seedy about it.
If I didn’t know that it was owned and run by Satan’s Angels, I never would have been able to tell.
Most guys wore t-shirts and jeans inside, or coveralls, like every other mechanic I’ve seen before.
I was prepared to feel twinges of unease and regret and a whole lot of apprehension writhing in my gut when we left Liam there, but surprisingly, I didn’t.
There were plenty of big, burly guys there, and if shit went down, I have no doubt that they could hold their own and protect Liam.
Despite some of the guys looking a little rough around the edges, they were all polite to me, just like the men I met at the clubhouse.
Thinking about the shop, I still feel that bone deep sense of relief that just about took my feet out from under me. Liam hugged me in front of all those guys, and no one said a thing. No one ribbed him, at least not while I was there, and if they did it after, I’m sure they were nice about it.
This is all unexpected. I don’t know what’s wrong with me that I still want to hang onto my doubts and stubbornness. The last thing I want to do is keep buying into stereotypes.
“I’ve been thinking about getting some of those old tin tiles and putting them up. Although, the ceilings are lovely as is. I don’t know if seeing all your ductwork and wires is still a thing. I could get some gorgeous tiles as architectural salvage and give them a new life.”
“Have you asked at the antique store?”
My head jerks down so fast that my neck legit hurts and stars dance at the corners of my vision. My hand freezes on the bulb I was screwing in. Cruz’s voice is rough, but it’s there. It’s the first time today that he’s strung more than a few words together.
Does he need to be pulled into the conversation?
Just last night I heard him speak full sentences, one after another.
Is his voice like greasing gears to get them to move properly and keep the machinery from grinding?
Is it a mental or physical thing? Both? Once the words start flowing, will they stop?
“I haven’t. They’re usually not open when I’m off work, but I could call or check their website. Do they get stuff like that in often?”
Cruz gives the expected shoulder rise and fall, but he follows it up. “Willa sometimes has architectural salvage.”
“Willa? Is that the person who owns it?”
“She’s Atlas’ old lady.”
My brain thinks back to yesterday. “The one who looked like a movie star?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s nice?”
“The sweetest. They renovated the place together and they pick together. She has a big truck and trailer she drives.”
The more Cruz talks the less it appears to hurt.
I catch him staring at my sweater. I wonder if Liam’s mentioned my obsession.
This one is a rare unicorn gem. Not a unicorn, but an actual unicorn, hooves raised in the air, tail flowing out behind her, with rainbows and flowers in the background, in all its eighties glory.
It comes complete with giant shoulder pads.
Cruz double blinks, but doesn’t look away when I catch him staring. “Have you thought about hiring someone?”
I resume screwing in the last bulb and reach for the glass that I’ve set on top the ladder, along with the hardware.
I carefully position it and get the long screw in place.
My shoulders are starting to burn from reaching over my head so much.
“I got used to running things on my own. At first, I couldn’t really afford to pay anyone, and then I was paying Liam, as soon as he was legally old enough to be paid.
When he went to Seattle, I really missed him and his help.
I thought about getting someone then, but I could still do everything on my own, and I like it. ”
“Are you worried you won’t know what to do with your free time and the quiet?”
“Liam was gone for four months. I was okay with the quiet. Even before he moved to Seattle, he was often out with friends or doing teenager stuff. He played a lot of sports. He had practice and games. He was also in drama club and photography. He helped tutor one night a week at the school in math and science. There was plenty of quiet. What? Didn’t he tell you any of that? ”
“I guess so.”
“Liam’s smart. Incredibly. There’s more than one reason I pushed so hard for college.”
“Would you have gone, if you had a chance?”
I nearly choke on my own saliva. I scramble down the ladder and Cruz gets out of the way for me.
He trails after me as I move it to the next light, and as soon as I take the first few steps up, he resumes his hold.
“I don’t know. I’m not that smart.” He scoffs.
“Don’t tell me that I’m wrong. The cafe is mostly just hard work, and that makes up for a lot.
I generally find that if you’re good at one thing, or you know a lot about one area, you can convince people that you’re better than you are. ”
“Stop.”
“I read a lot. That’s not the same thing.
” I carefully unscrew the glass base and set it on the ladder.
My box of bulbs only has two more new ones left, but there are more on the counter.
“Even if it was, I don’t find any use in asking myself what I would have done.
I’m happy with the way my life turned out.
I got a lot of breaks, and I did the best I could with what I had.
I worked hard, and I’m here now.” Does that sound bad?
Arrogant? Or like I settled and I’m stuck and okay with it?
“It’s not too late,” I go on. “I could still go. There’s a community college in Hart. ”
“I know. Raiden’s wife is a professor there.”
“Seriously?”
“Bikers can’t have smart, kind, funny partners?” His voice is almost perfectly smooth after all this talking. That’s me. I’m getting him to make words. Does he talk to Liam like this? To anyone?
I shouldn’t feel that ridiculous thrill that shoots through me at the fact that maybe this is different. Special. My heart thunders.
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that… being a professor is a big deal. You need a lot of school for that. That’s incredible that she teaches there. Good for her.”
“Their marriage was arranged. You should ask Raiden sometime.”
“Like I’m ever going to do that,” I huff. At least I don’t choke this time, though that’s a shock. I didn’t know people still got married that way. “What do you mean arranged? This isn’t eighteen fifty-four.”
“They found love. Everyone has a story. Most you would probably like. Everyone at the club, I mean. You’d probably like to hear them.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Aren’t the best jests the ones that are mostly true?
“What do I do in my free time?” I pick that question back up.
“I read. I’ve tried painting, but I was terrible.
I sew. I have an old machine. Most things I’ve tried are a disaster.
On the odd Sunday, if we ever went to garage sales, or to Seattle, I’d thrift as much as I could and do some upcycling.
Does that count for hobbies? I’m a professional sweater shopper.
” I finish this fixture and study Cruz from above.
It’s weird to be taller than him, given that he’s one of the largest human beings I’ve ever seen.
God, there goes my internal heat meter again, malfunctioning.