After grabbing her laptop, the blueprints, and her cup of coffee, she shuffled over to Gary’s office. When she entered, she was surprised to see the other two partners and Logan.
“Was there a meeting I forgot about?” she asked while setting down her laptop on Gary’s desk.
“Nothing planned. We wanted to get you and Logan together to discuss the new strip mall project we’re designing in Pinewood Springs,” Warner Vale said.
“I’ve already come up with some very innovative designs I can share.” Logan plastered on his charming-executive smile.
Baylee thought she was going to puke.
“We can look at them. The important thing is pleasing the client.” Warner loosened his tie a bit then cleared his voice. “Our client is a motorcycle club. The members are a bit rough and colorful, but we’ll treat them like any other client.”
Logan leaned forward on his chair. “You mean like a Hell’s Angels-type of club?”
Warner laughed nervously. “I hope not.”
“What Warner means is that it really doesn’t matter who they are. The point is we’ve been hired to design and build a strip mall in west Pinewood Springs, and we’re getting paid a whole lot of money to do it.” Gary sipped his steaming coffee.
“How involved is this club going to be? I mean, do we have to deal with all of them or is there a leader?” Baylee asked.
“Not sure. Right now, we’re working with the president of the club. Banger is his name,” Gary said.
Snickers whispered around the room.
“What the hell kind of name is that?” Bob asked.
“I guess it’s a road name. I’ve been reading up on motorcycle clubs since we were awarded the project. Most of the guys have road names. But never mind that; we have a job to do. I think we’ll mostly be working with the president, and maybe his VP.”
“If it’s in Pinewood Springs, how are we supposed to oversee the project?” Baylee said.
“I’m going to need you and Logan to stay there until the project is complete. I’m putting you both on it. Gary, Warner, and I will take turns going to Pinewood Springs to make sure everything is okay, but this is your project.” Bob looked at the two junior associates. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy small-town living for a few months.”
Baylee’s mind whirled. She had to work with Logan every day on this project and be stuck in a small town? How was she ever going to survive? She knew Logan would do anything to make her look bad, so she’d have to be especially diligent in her work. If she did a good job with this project, she could finally achieve her dreams.
The only kink in the plan was working with this motorcycle club. She really didn’t have a clue about them, except what she saw in the movies or TV documentaries. Sighing, she knew the next few nights would be filled with biker research so she could grasp what kind of client she’d be working for.
“What’s the name of the club who hired us?” she asked.
Warner flipped through some sheets in a folder on his lap. “Let’s see… Here it is. The name is Insurgents.”
“Thanks.” Baylee wrote down the name so she wouldn’t forget. Before she arrived in Pinewood Springs, she’d make sure she knew everything there was to know about the Insurgents MC.
* * *
Baylee sped her car toward Jalisco’s, the Mexican restaurant where she was meeting her close friend, Claudia. Every Monday night, they’d have a couple of margaritas and talk about men, mostly.
Elated to find parking right in front, Baylee maneuvered her two-seater Mercedes into the space. As she walked into the restaurant, she was aware of a group of business men seated to her right, checking her out and whispering comments about her as she passed.
Their eyes are probably glued to my breasts. Ugh! What I wouldn’t do to have smaller ones.
Baylee was in a minority when it came to her feelings about her ample chest. Claudia kept telling Baylee to give her some, and most of her female friends had gotten breast implants to give them what nature had provided for Baylee.
Since she’d started developing, male eyes had been ogling her, rarely looking at her face first. She hated being judged by her cup size, and it drove her crazy whenever she entered a room. Many of the men would gawk at her, and that made her feel like less of a person.
Turning her head to the group, she asked, “Didn’t your mothers teach you that it’s rude to stare?” Before allowing them to answer, she tossed her long, brown hair and searched for Claudia’s smiling face.
Claudia had found them a small booth in the corner by a window, looking out over the parking lot.