Biker Blues

by Dale Mayer

  True, the business often demanded more than they could give, but so far outside of the two men they’d tried, they had no inclination to add any other personalities to the mix. Too many problems. If people had to wait longer to get their next piece done, then that’s the way it would have to be.

  Life was about making choices. There were three of them in the shop – that was enough.

  Roxy ran and gave her a big yet gentle hug.

  She returned it with tears in her eyes. “Damn, Roxy.”

  “I know,” her best friend whispered. “That was too damn close.”

  “And it’s not over,” Morgan said, pushing them both deeper into the shop and out of sight of the big windows and anyone who might be watching.

  Wincing at his none-too-subtle hint, Jazz walked over to her desk and sat down with a huge grin. “Damn, it’s good to be back.”

  Perl walked over, a huge smile on her face. “It’s not like you were gone very long.”

  “No, maybe not.” Jazz turned on her computer. “But at the same time, it felt like I wouldn’t make it back some times.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible.”

  “It was, but it’s all over. So no worries.”

  Perl gasped. “Oh my, did the police catch him?”

  Jazz laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “I’m sure they have. They said something about the whole thing being pretty damn easy.”

  “Really?” Roxy walked closer. “So it’s over then?”

  “No,” Morgan said. “Not yet.”

  Roxy’s gaze shifted from one to the other then narrowed. She opened her mouth to speak, and Jazz gave her a small imperceptible shake of her head.

  Her mouth shut like a toad swallowing a fly. She nodded ever so slightly, gave a small glance in Perl’s fascinated direction, and stepped back out of the way. “Business is brisk. We’re at a lull right now, and I cancelled your appointments for today and tomorrow.”

  Jazz groaned. “That’s going to be a bitch to catch up.”

  “Better you catch up than not get that chance.”

  She couldn’t argue that. When her computer loaded the desktop came up. Double monitors on, she quickly loaded her email and the software program she used for the images. It took a moment, but it wasn’t longer than the time for Roxy to deliver her a cup of fresh coffee.

  Morgan pulled up a chair and sat beside her, his hands cupping a hot cup. Glancing around the shop, she realized that Perl was on the phone and Roxy was cleaning up her station. “Roxy, when is your next client?”

  “In about ten minutes,” her friend and partner called back. “Do you need me?”

  “Maybe in a few minutes.” She imported the two images and split the screens so she could see them side-by-side. Using the simple tools of the program, she could blow up both images for a closer look. Using the online magnifying glass, she took a closer look at the tattoos. The first one was the one from Billy. The number three was clearly visible. She searched the second one. She couldn’t see a number on it. She rotated the image and kept studying it. There had to be something here that would identify the image as being connected to the first one.

  But no numbers were embedded into the image. So no connection to the other one. Unless… this was the first one. Oftentimes people didn’t number the first in a series. Only the ones that came after.

  She changed the filters on each image several times, looking for anything that would help her to identify the artist and the similarities or difference between them.

  It made no sense. But there had to be something. The dragon patterns were identical. Just a straight, stenciled copy moved from one man to another. And both in relatively the same position, both facing the same direction. She could see the same hand in the ink. She didn’t recognize whose that hand was though. After a long ten minutes she pulled back and groaned slightly as she relaxed into the chair.

  “May I?” Morgan asked quietly.

  She shifted her chair to the side so he could get access. Needing to get up, she walked the store, wondering what to do. If she got started on her accounting mess, she’d need days to get into it deep enough to see her way out. She had a mess of emails to take care of. She’d dealt with the easy ones on her phone, but there were several that needed much more than typing on a phone could do. But with Morgan on her computer, she couldn’t do those either. She walked to the back stock room. It was small and packed, but there were any number of supplies that they were required to keep on hand. Coffee being one of those. She laughed when she saw the dozen packs sitting on the shelf. They wouldn’t run out anytime soon. She had no reason to be back here other than the need to reconnect with every part of her world. It felt strange to be back but right at the same time. While in the back, she could hear the doorbell ring as customers came in. Normally she’d walk over and speak to them, a bright smile on her face, happy to see them. Now she wanted to peer around the corner of the wall to see who it was. She didn’t bother to do that either.

  In truth, she just wanted to pull up a chair and be a bystander for a day or two. Not that that was likely to happen.

  Roxy came to the doorway. “Jazz, Stengel is here. Do you feel like going out and talking to him? He was here yesterday.”

  “Oh good.” Jazz smiled. “I’m coming.” In fact, she was eager to see Stengel. He hadn’t seen the design she’d done for him yet. She really loved it. But that didn’t mean he would. In fact, it often worked in reverse. She loved something and her client hated it. Thankfully those were few and far between. But they still happened enough times for her to approach this stage with caution.

  “Stengel, how nice to see you again.” The tall man flushed with pleasure. He had red hair on top of his head and his skin was pale but covered in freckles. He had to be in his mid-thirties but appeared to be a bare step above sixteen. She opened the drawer at the front of the desk and ruffled through the papers. She’d left it on top.

  And it wasn’t there. She frowned and dug deeper. “Hey Roxy, did you take the design I did and put it somewhere?”

  She stood up and turned around to face Roxy, a frown on her face. Roxy walked over. “I haven’t been in here at all. I wouldn’t have touched it either. Was it in the folder?”

  “Yes, but the folder’s missing.” Jazz walked over to her desk and rifled through the stuff on top. “Hey Perl, did you see the folder for Stengel?”

  Perl lifted her head from the admin desk at the very back of the store. “Nope. I haven’t.”

  Damn. She smiled at Stengel. “Just a minute. I have it on soft copy. I’ll print off another one.”

  He grinned. “You had me worried there for a moment.”

  “Ha. I keep copies of everything I do.”

  Morgan stood up and gave her back her spot. In an undertone, the only one to hear him, he asked. “Do you keep copies of everything?”

  She shot him a wary glance as she sat down. “Yes.”

  Bringing up the folder she needed, she quickly printed off another copy of the basic design. She’d been detailing the printed one that went missing, but she could fill in the latest details right now in front of him. She walked to the back of the room where her printer was and reached for the copy. She checked it over as she walked forward to where Stengel was standing. She grabbed the pencil and with him looking on, she quickly put back the few details she’d added last time.

  Stengel gasped and said, “That’s so perfect.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” She glanced over at him. “Do you want me to email you a digital copy so you can take a longer look at it?”

  He nodded, his eyes glued to the paper. “I do. Thanks.”

  “If you want to make changes let me know, otherwise we’ll schedule it in. We’ll do it as we always do.”

  “I will. My brother’s birthday is about six weeks off. I’d like to have it done by then.”

  She smiled gently at him. “No problem. I’m sure we can do that.”

 
; At least he’d loved the design. He left soon after with her promising to send the finished design by email this afternoon. And damn if she had any idea what happened to her other design copy. She had a few changes there that she didn’t remember. It would bug her, but at the same time it was a small irritant on the scale of irritants. Which lately that entire scale had been blown out of proportion. Still it was damn frustrating.

  It was what she got for not being able to be at work on a regular basis. Look what happened, shit went missing.

  She went back to her desk again, with Morgan sitting quietly on the chair beside her desk. He was on his phone, but she wasn’t fooled. He was paying attention, just quietly, in the background – as always. Her big bad watchdog. And she was damn glad to have him.

  Sitting down, she quietly went through all the emails that were pending. Some of them were particularly demanding. By the time she got through the ones she could deal with, she was exhausted. And her shoulder was killing her. Just a deep aching throb that wouldn’t go away. And told her more clearly than she could imagine that there’d be no working for her for at least a few more days, and even then she’d have to take it slow.

  Walking over to the front desk, she checked the schedule and realized it was full for weeks. She shouldn’t have checked – it was a well-known fact that they were backed up and booking weeks out. It worked for some people, but not for her. To move all of these would be brutal.

  Perl came over. “Problems?

  “All these appointments are going to have to be pushed back. I’m not going to be able to start working again for a few days and will need to do half a schedule to start.”

  She started massaging her shoulder, hating the sense of being overwhelmed as she was looking at the days ahead. Roxy was already fully booked. “We haven’t had to do something like this in…”

  “About four years ago when I came down with pneumonia. Don’t worry about it. Things happen. Most of our clients are repeat customers and shouldn’t be too upset.”

  Jazz nodded. “But they are all going to have to change their schedules, and that’s not so easy.”

  “I’ll call them,” Perl said. “We’ll see what we can do.”

  And she had to leave it at that.

  *

  Morgan watched as Jazz prowled around the shop. It was the only word he could use. She was so very talented, and being unable to do anything was eating at her. Looking at her day-to-day schedule had to be tough. She was used to overfilling her days every day and smiling through the whole thing. Somewhere along the way, she hadn’t realized it was time to slow down. When they were together, he forced her to lighten up her schedule. He imagined that after they had split, she’d filled it to overflowing aging.

  Now, she had to come to a complete stop. And that was a good thing.

  She was going to wear herself down. And out. That couldn’t happen. She was too damn good to burn out, and that’s where she was heading.

  Unless he did something about it.

  He stood up and motioned at her.

  She walked toward him. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. “You need to rest that shoulder.” At her dark look, he grinned and said, “I can see it hurts you.”

  “Being here and not being able to do much hurts,” she snapped. “I could do some of the admin stuff though.”

  “Tomorrow,” he said firmly. “Today you came in, looked at a few things, and cleared out your emails. Tomorrow we can come back for a little longer.”

  She opened her mouth to argue then closed it as his jaw locked together. “Fine.”

  That was his girl. She was as driven as anyone he knew, but she was also more sensible than most. He remembered the care she always took for her hands and arms; otherwise, she couldn’t work and that benefited no one.

  “Need to look into physiotherapy too,” he said. “You need that shoulder fully functional as soon as possible.”

  She nodded absently. “I have exercises I can do to help keep it limber.”

  “Good.” He placed a hand on her lower back and urged her forward to the front door. “Let’s go.”

  “Hey,” she muttered, “I’m going.” She glared at him. “You don’t have to get pushy.”

  He laughed. “Maybe not, but neither is arguing going to give you longer hours here. We’re leaving.”

  Roxy laughed from the other side of the shop. “Go, Jazz. We’ll be here tomorrow. Thinking about what you can reasonably do to help out, then come and do it. We know you can’t take care of clients for a bit. That’s life. They will either wait or cancel. Not a biggie.”

  Jazz smiled gratefully. “Thanks Roxy, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Morgan moved her gently but inexorably forward. “Good night. I’m taking her home to bed, where she should be right now.”

  Laughing, Roxy called out, “Good luck.”.

  He grinned. Roxy might know Jazz real well, but he could make this kitten purr in bed anytime, and that’s exactly what he had planned for the rest of the afternoon.

  He couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 9

  Morgan handed her the helmet and helped her on to his bike. Of course he’d seen how tired she was. He took his spot and turned on the engine, pulling out of the parking spot.

  Silently, she watched him handle the bike, loving the effortless way he handled all that power. He was so damn strong and capable. Something she’d always admired.

  Now she needed his caring and although she might protest, it was a token protest. He was too in charge for anything else.

  Besides, she had no strength for anything else. Now that she was on the bike heading home, she realized how much her shoulder, arm, and damn it, her chest hurt from just that little bit. It sucked, but it was the truth.

  She was tired enough to sleep. Her mind floated as Morgan drove them home. Where the hell had her damn design gone? It wasn’t major, but it was enough to piss her off. And if it was gone, was anything else? She didn’t keep anything very valuable at the shop unless you counted the designs. Then of course, in that way everything at the shop was valuable. It was her artwork.

  Morgan’s phone beeped as they drove into the garage. She struggled off on her own while he pulled out his phone.

  “Hello?”

  Standing up, his gaze always on her to make sure she didn’t need his help, he appeared to listen to whoever was on the other side of the phone. She didn’t give a damn who it was. She just wanted to go inside and lie down. Motioning to him that’s what she was doing, she waited for his nod, then turned and headed for the house. She didn’t have keys – that was the first obstacle. But then she found the deck door open. She headed inside and went straight to the bed. Getting her boots off was a second problem and by the time she was done, she was damn near in tears. Without bothering about the clothes, she lay down on her good side, relaxed into the thick mattress, and closed her eyes.

  And couldn’t sleep.

  She lay there, letting her body relax, her shoulder finding it hard to get comfortable. She rolled over onto her back and shifted it yet again. Nope. That way hurt. This way ached. Finally, she shifted so she was propped up against the headboard. And groaned. Her shoulder might feel better, but her back hurt like shit.

  She was just going to have to break down and take a pain pill, or at least an anti-inflammatory. The muscles were starting to seize. If it was easier to get in and out of her clothes, she’d consider a hot bath. Instead she was struggling here. Her pills were on the night table beside her. She opened the top and shook out two. There was no water. Damn it. She struggled back to her feet and walked into the bathroom. She filled a glass and swallowed the pills and looked around casually.

  And froze.

  On the mirror, a single piece of tape holding it up, was a poor quality image of yet another dragon tattoo on a naked butt cheek.

  She swallowed hard, lowered her glass to the counter very slowly, and tried to still the quaking sensation inside her. A stranger had walked through Morg
an’s house and taped this to his bathroom mirror. They’d been gone 2 to 3 hours tops. So the stalker had been watching the house. Knew when they were gone and had likely come in immediately, because no one could know how long they’d be gone. She hadn’t even known.

  They hadn’t seen anyone when they left, and they hadn’t seen anyone when they’d come home.

  She forced air out of her tight chest. She could do this. She could handle this. She pulled her phone out and called Morgan. Moving her feet and running toward him was her first choice, but she didn’t think she could force her legs to move. And if they did finally get in gear, she’d bolt clear across town, not stopping until she had put this stalker bullshit into her rearview mirror.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hey sweetie, what’s up?”

  “I need you now. We were left another gift.” And without thinking, she closed her phone on his yell.

  She stared down at it. How stupid. She should have kept talking. She quickly redialed but only got a busy signal. Of course, he was trying to call her.

  She closed her eyes and focused. Someone was watching the house. Someone had broke in and left this behind. The next question was what else had they done? Had they taken anything? Her gaze swept over the bathroom. She didn’t want to touch anything else but knew the chances of the person having left fingerprints behind weren’t great. They were smart enough to get in and out, so they were smart enough to wear gloves.

  “Jazz!”

  “I’m in the bathroom,” she called out. He was there at her side before she had a chance to finish.

  Wordless, she pointed to the bathroom mirror.

  “Fuck,” he said in a low, deadly voice. His jaw locked down and a muscle pulsed at the side of his neck.

  “I can’t see anything else out of place,” she said in an apologetic tone. “You should probably look as you’d have a better idea.”

  He nodded. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She motioned to the image. “There’s a 2 on it.”

  “So we have three dead men with dragon tattoos? And you don’t recognize this one either?”