27. Chapter 27
twenty-seven
H eavy had been home from jail for three weeks, and for him and Cassie, life was good.
In most ways, that was.
He'd made peace with the fact that he'd sent his father and older brother to their deaths. They had descended to a level of being leeches on the community, far as he was concerned. And they were a direct threat to him, his real family, his gym and his woman. And that could not stand. He hadn't told Cassie about their deaths, and she hadn't asked. If she ever did, they'd talk about it.
Until then, he just wanted to move on.
But he was worried about his pixie girl. She’d been working alongside him at the gym every day, helping out with all the things and smiling at the clients, never complaining about a thing. But a time or two, when she didn’t notice, he’d seen her fiddling on her phone with a kinda sad look on her face.
Finally he’d pulled a sneaky move and grabbed her phone when she went off to the bathroom, and looked up her last searches. He was surprised as hell by what he found, but it gave him plenty to think about.
At his place, and on their off hours, life together was fuckin’ awesome. He took her for road trips on his bike, over to Coeur d’Alene Lake and up through the forests to Sandpoint, another funky little town. They spent great times with Rav, Della and Boo, who was toddling around and babbling up a storm, and cracking everyone up, and with Moke and Shelle, T and Manda, and Drew and Piper.
After she had awakened in his bed every morning of those three weeks, they both stood in his bathroom, brushing their teeth. Heavy looked around his bathroom at the accumulation of cosmetics, feminine hair products, her toothbrush on the sink, the extra towel and washcloth and her robe hanging on the door. “Y’know, pixie, we might as well move the rest of your shit in here. Then you won’t have to remember where you left it.”
She looked up at him and set the hand holding her toothbrush on her hip, the other hand up, palm out. “Wait. Just… give me a minute to absorb the romance. Are you asking me to move in with you, big guy?”
He grinned at her around his toothbrush, then leaned over and spat toothpaste in the sink. “Yeah, I am.”
Still bent over as he rinsed his mouth out, he watched as her bare toes, tipped with blue polish, tapped irritably on the bathroom rug.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
He straightened, and frowned at her. “What’s to think about? You hate livin’ with your dad, you say so like twice a week.”
“Oh, do I?” She rinsed her mouth, spit, and whisked out of the bathroom, tossing her robe on the bed and giving him a stellar view of her heart-shaped ass as she bent to rummage in one of the bureau drawers he’d cleared out for her. Oh, mama. Even though they’d just fucked a half an hour ago, that view had him thinking filthy thoughts.
Heavy watched as she pulled up a pair of little blue panties, also a sweet view, and then donned the matching bra. He went back over their convo and wondered where he’d screwed up.
Oh. She wanted romance. Well, he guessed he could do romance… with a lot of help.
The next weekend was Drew’s patching-in ceremony, so the club members were preoccupied with that, and the old ladies with setting up the party and supper. Stick presented Drew with his full cut, and the Flyers celebrated their new brother well into the night.
But several days after that, Cassie’s dad showed up at Heavy Iron in mid–morning. He was not dressed to work out, so she assumed he was here to see Heavy on club business.
But instead, the two men exchanged a secretive nod, and Mac turned to Cassie. "Wanna go somewhere with me?"
"What?” Cassie said, puzzled by the tone in her dad’s voice, and the gleam in his eyes. “I’m… working?"
“It’s fine,” Heavy told her, with a little smile. “Go on.”
Cassie looked from one man to the other. “What is going on?”
"Baby girl, come on,” her dad said, rapping his knuckles on the high counter. “We’re goin’ to see a man about an idea. That’s all you need to know for now.”
By the time they rolled into the driveway of Stick and Sara Vanko’s home across the field from the Flyers clubhouse, Cassie was bewildered. But she followed her father up the steps and into The Vanko’s big farmhouse.
Stick himself pulled the door open, ushering them into the big country kitchen. "Come on back to my office," he invited. “Sara and the kids are out at Pete and Lesa’s place.”
Cassie followed the two men through the house to the open door of a comfortable office with a couple of easy chairs, an L-shaped desk and an ergonomic office chair before a double-screened computer. She gazed at this with envy. She’d like to have a setup like that for herself.
She sat in the chair Stick waved her to. Her dad took the other, giving her no hints what this was all about, but he was looking pleased with himself, so he thought it was something good. She hoped she thought so too–she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, or offend the president of his club.
Stick himself stood before the window that looked north onto the lawn. He leaned back against the wide sill, and crossed his arms, making himself comfortable. "So,” he said,” Cassie, I hear you’re looking for a new job. What would you think of managing a store for us? For the club, I mean."
Cassie looked to her dad, who only gave her an encouraging smile and tipped his head toward Stick as if to say answer the man.
"Well, sure, she said cautiously. “It would depend on what kind of business." Please, God, don’t let it be a motorcycle parts shop, or the like.
Stick raised his brows arrogantly, as only the president of a biker club could do. "You don’t trust me and your dad to come up with an idea we think you’ll like? "
Cassie’s cheeks grew hot. "O–of course I do — I mean — " she stuttered. Then she shut her mouth and took a calming breath. "Sorry. Please, share your idea with me. "
"That’s more like it," her dad muttered.
Stick crossed his arms. "As you may know, the club sometimes looks for investments in property or businesses that look good. Happens that since weed went legit in Washington state, we’ve picked up a couple of dispensaries that are doing real well for us, but the banks are still squeamish when it comes to taking our money, because of federal restrictions on weed.”
Cassie nodded. She’d heard about that in school, and from an acquaintance who worked for a dispensary in the Tri.
“So, we’re always looking for other ways to invest that cash,” Stick went on. “And, when a certain store in downtown Spokane came up for sale, mainly because the idiot that owned it let his pothead of a brother run it right into the ground, which included running off his latest and best employee, we were alerted to the situation by one of the brothers."
He raised his brows again, his eyes twinkling now. "Sound familiar, young Cassie? "
By this point, Cassie’s heart was hammering in her chest. She sat on the edge of the comfortable arm chair, looking from him to her father, who was frankly grinning at her now. "Y-you don’t mean Mamba Mama’s?" Oh, please let that be it.
"Da. It happens I do, " Stick drawled.
Cassie uttered a gasp of sheer delight, her hands flying up to clutch the sides of her head. "Oh my God," she squeaked, looking to her dad, who was chuckling now. " I can’t believe it! I had—I mean I have so many ideas for the place, you can’t imagine. Just cleaning it up and rearranging the merch like I did while I was there, and setting up an Instagram account, I’m sure I upped the profit margin by two hundred percent."
"Try four hundred percent, " Stick said dryly. "We went through the books, Cassie—you did real, real well in the short time you were there. Old Warren wasn’t doing shit to sell anything before you came along… or after you left. When we made an offer, his brother didn’t even dicker, he was so happy to get the place off his hands.”
"So,” her dad asked. "Think you’d like to manage the place?"
"Yes!" Cassie cried, throwing her arms in the air. "When do I start?"
Now Stick was grinning as well. "As soon as we get a contract written up." His gaze sharpened and she stood to attention as one does when the club president of a biker club gives one such a look. "But, this is no gift we’re giving you, Cassie. You may be a daughter of the club, but we expect you to work–work smart and work hard. We can’t afford an investment that bleeds cash. We’ll give you a year’s contract, see how it goes. That sound fair to you?"
Cassie nodded eagerly. That sounded more than fair to her.
After discussing a few more details, Stick said that was all he had to talk about with her now, but that he would get back to her as soon as Streak, the club’s attorney, had time to draw up an employment contract.
“Great,” Cassie agreed. “And thank you. Thank you so much.”
He nodded. “By the way, you never asked… curious about who the brother was that brought us this info?”
“Sure,” she said, expecting him to say Rocker, or even Rav, since they worked downtown all the time, with RockSolid Security.
Stick looked to Cooler, a little smirk on his harsh face. “I’ll let your papa fill you in on that piece.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you, Stick.” After shaking Stick’s hand, Cassie walked out to her car with her Dad, where she did a little happy dance, throwing her arms in the air and twirling in a circle while he stood and chuckled.
Then he held out his arms. "Your old man’s gotta get to work, so gimme some sugar and then go get busy on the plans I know are already percolating in that pretty head."
Cassie hugged him again, but then held onto his cut, searching his face. “Okay, but first, explain who this mystery Flyer was, please.”
Cooler sighed. “It was Heavy. And I guess I’d better tell you, he’s the one who floated your name to manage it, too, ‘cause he was so impressed with the way you jumped in and took charge of his gym after he was arrested, and got people to keep comin’ in, and believin’ in him. In fact, the big dumbass tried to insist on you as part of the deal. Said if we was gonna go for it, it had to be with you, or …”
“Or what?” she managed, her heart swelling with emotion. Heavy had done this for her?
Her dad’s gaze softened “Or, it’d likely break your heart, if the store reopened under Flyer management, and you didn’t get a piece of it. An’ it pisses me off no end that the big dumbass knew somethin' about you I didn't, but there ya go.”
“He-he said that? Oh, my God.”
As her eyes filled with tears, he pulled her close in his arms, and rocked her as only a father can.
“Yes, he did. An’ I ain’t watchin’ your heart get broke twice. Time to get to work on mending it for good. Get back to doing shit you love … that’ll do it, am I right?””
Cassie sniffled and swiped under her eyes, because eye-makeup. “You’re right, daddy. And thanks, for—for your part in all this too. I won’t let you down.”
Her father gave a soft huff of laughter. “Baby girl, I don’t have a single doubt in my mind about that part. I’m more worried you’ll give one hundred and ten percent and burn yourself out. So Rae and me—an' I guess your man—are gonna have an eye on that.”
“Okay.” Still floating on the knowledge that Heavy—Heavy—had wanted her to have this chance—had paid attention to how much she loved the quirky store, and how much she’d enjoy the challenge of taking it on again and turning it around, Cassie had no brain power left to worry about him being his old nosy, bossy self. “Thanks, Daddy.”
She slipped into her car while he mounted his Harley. She followed him back toward Spokane, her mind buzzing.
Finally, she was going to use her AA in merchandising to do something she truly wanted to do.
She was going to take Mamba Mama’s and turn it into a magnet for customers from all over the Inland region. At least, she’d start with turning it into a magnet for Spokane area customers… then she’d spread the influence outward.
It wasn’t until she reached home that doubt assailed her.
She called her dad. He picked up immediately, a smile in his voice. “Hey, biz whiz. Whatcha need?"
"Do you really think I can I do this? " Cassie blurted. "I mean, what if I screw it up? Will you be in trouble with the club if I lose their money? "
"Yes you can, and no I won’t, " Cooler said. " Stick knows, and the rest of us know, this is a gamble. All business is a gamble, right? You can’t control all the whatchamacallits — the variables, like the economy. So you work hard, you work smart, and do the best you can, right? Isn’t that what they taught you in business school?"
"Yes, " Cassie agreed, relaxing a little. "You’re right. Geez … I panicked, I guess. "
Her dad chuckled. "You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t, once in a while. I’m no entrepreneur, but I’d guess anytime you start a new business, you gotta put up with self-doubt. But life ain’t for cowards, and I know I didn’t raise one. So you roll, and do what you know you can do. Besides," he drawled. "Heavy had the guts to start up his gym and go all in. You’re not gonna let him beat you, are ya?”
"Oh, hell no," she snapped. "I can do this. You just watch me.”
"That’s my baby girl,” Cooler said cheerfully. "Later.”
The blare of what Cassie recognized as the ambulance bay alarm drowned anything Cassie might have replied, so she ended the call.
She slid her phone into her bag, and slowly got out of her car.
There was only one thing left to do … figure out how to thank Heavy ‘Marcus’ Hanks for this huge, huge gift.
But wait–she knew just the way. She hustled up to her bedroom and pulled out her suitcase, duffle and sundry extra shopping bags, to pack up all her things.
She was moving in with her man.
A couple of hours later, Heavy received two photos on his phone, #MovingDay. The first was of two boxes, labeled with hot pink and bright green marker. They were stacked side by side in the trunk of Cassie’s little car. The second photo showed her perched on a big suitcase beside her car, smiling.
“Oh, hell yeah,” he muttered to himself.
“What’s that?” asked the older man at the checkin computer, giving Heavy an inquiring look.
Heavy grinned. “I said, I think she liked it. My romantic gift to my girlfriend–she liked it.”