Damn, what kind of name was that? I looked at his cut. The name of his club was stitched on his jacket Another, brighter patch under the first read “President.”
Biker gang. I straightened up and focused on my drink a minute. I knew I had to make a decision on how to act.
I decided to go with civil. “Aidan,” I said, nodding to “Rage.”
“You get that over there?” He tapped on my prosthetic with his foot. The contraption vibrated slightly, sending a sharp pinging sensation up my femur into the socket. I looked down to see that the metal rod above the shoe was showing. “How’d you know I’d been overseas?”
“I can tell a soldier when I see one.”
I nodded dully, suddenly tired. “Afghanistan.” I answered, looking into my drink.
“What did you do over there?”
“Wheeled Vehicle Specialist. Mechanic.” Did a little bit of everything really: driving, fixing, recovering.
“You work on any cars?”
“Yep, got training on it all before I went over. Three tours. Well, two and three quarters.” I was a damn good mechanic. If it had an engine I could fix it; old, new, didn’t matter.
“You want a job?”
I blinked at him. My week was doing a one-eighty shift and I wasn’t sure if it was real. “Doing what?”
“I have a garage. Need another mechanic. Someone who knows his shit.”
I considered him, looking over his cut. I didn’t know much about motorcycle gangs, but I knew that they were trouble. Still, I needed the money. The assistance I got only went so far.
“What kind of garage?”
“Little one, down the railroad tracks, over in Braddock.”
I eyed him carefully. “And you’d just hire me, just like that?”
“Trial basis, of course, but why not? You did your time, served our country. Least I can do is give you a shot at a job.” He took one last sip of his drink and then stood. “You game?”
Fuck, I didn’t even have to think about it. My current choice was between whether I was going to have hot water or food this month.
“Hell. Yeah.”
He grinned like it was what he was expecting me to say. “Great. See my woman, Layla. She’ll get you sorted in the morning. But no touching, or you’ll have a second metal leg.”
Something about the way he said it told me he meant it. I’d met the type before. This Rage might be fair, but mess with his people and he was a mean son of a bitch.
I swallowed.
This was going to be interesting.
Emma
“Think you can handle it?” Kat stared at me, her eyes intent, a small grin parting her lips devilishly.
She knew I could handle anything that life threw at me. She’d been there for most of it.
“The only question is, are you going to try to convince me to strip because –”
“Calm down, Cuz. I’d never ask you to. Besides, I don’t want to see any family jewels up there on the stage. No, we keep it strictly non-familial around here.” She grinned at me and then opened the little half-door that kept the customers from going back behind the bar.
“You wanna see what I can do?” I asked, grabbing the ingredients to her favorite drink. Tequila Sunrises were so nineteen seventies, but they were also so Kat. A little bit slutty, and a little bit classic.
I mixed it up with a little flare, and then searched for an umbrella to put in it.
There were none.
“Not bad. We don’t need much of that though,” she warned me. “Most of the guys will want a beer or some kind of rot gut liquor. They drink it with ice or straight. You won’t have much call for cosmos and mojitos. Still… it might help us to get a ladies night going.” She was off and thinking like usual. The woman was always scheming, coming up with a plan. It was why I came to stay with her when I finally had enough of my mother’s shit. She got me away from the mess and into a halfway house. At Fresh Beginnings I had found the resources to get a job – and a lawyer.
I owed her for that. Unfortunately, I hated owing people. As a result, I had promised myself that I’d never ask her for another favor again. But when I accepted the application to Carlow University, I had to come to her again, this time asking for a job. One that paid well. I’d done some bartending and some waitressing, but those little joints barely provided enough to make ends meet. The Cat House brought in a lot of customers, which meant a better chance of getting decent tips more often.
I had refused loans, so I got put on a payment plan and I knew I had to find a job. Fast. Being able to pay for college was worth eating my pride.
“When do you want to start?” Kat asked.