Size King

by S. C. Adams

  So, after two months of getting our asses kicked, Cody and I decide to go over and check out the competition on one slow Wednesday afternoon. The rival shop is called Ultra-Cycle, and we know little about it other than the name.

  We are stopping by with an old bike that we plan on using as “bait” to see what all the store offers and what their prices are like. When we are pulling into the Ultra-Cycle parking lot, little do I realize that entering the shop under a pretense is unnecessary.

  Cody and I enter Ultra-Cycle, expecting it to be crawling with fellow male bikers. Instead, there is only one woman in the shop, hanging out and leaning against the checkout counter. She is on her phone when we walk in, but she quickly puts it away once she sees that she has customers.

  I am instantly attracted to her. She is drop-dead gorgeous, with long curly brown hair, kind brown eyes, soft full lips, and a sexy, curvy physique. She has a little chub on her, but it looks good on her. Even though she is a bigger girl, she is perfectly put together.

  “Hey there, boys,” says the Ultra-Cycle girl. “What can I do for you?”

  “I want you to tell me your name,” I request.

  “I’m Megan,” she replies. “What’s your name?”

  “Call me Dustin,” I answer.

  I extend my hand awkwardly, and she takes it. We shake hands, and Cody rolls his eyes.

  “What brings you here today, Dustin and friend?” she wonders.

  “I’m sorry—Megan, this is my good friend and business associate, Cody Anderson,” I say, introducing them. “Megan, we came by here today to drop off a bike and see what you guys thought our problems might be.”

  “You seem like a pretty bright, capable guy,” Megan comments. “You need us to help you out? My word. What seems to be the problem?”

  “Sometimes it’ll start, and sometimes it won’t,” I reply. “Cody and I have tried looking at it. We can’t figure out what’s going on.”

  “Well, I’m sure we can figure it out,” says Megan. “The shop owner isn’t in right now, nor are any of our mechanics. They should be back soon, though. Let me check our availability.”

  She walks back behind the counter. I notice a tattoo on the back of her neck that appears to extend down her back. I am incredibly turned on by this girl, and I can’t keep my eyes off her.

  It isn’t just her gorgeous looks that attract me. She has a way about her that’s hard to put into words. I must look like a fool as I try figuring out the words; I’m sure I must be staring at her.

  “We’re full all day today,” says Megan. “Oh! Two people canceled their appointments for Friday. Would you like Friday? Otherwise, we can’t fit you in until next week.”

  “Friday works just fine,” I say. “No rush.”

  “You guys have another bike you could take home with you?” she asks.

  “Oh, we’ve got a shit-ton of bikes,” says Cody. “We’re good with leaving the old one here as long as we need.”

  “Once we get it up and running again, is there any additional work we can do for you?” Megan wonders.

  I actually want to get some work done by the shop just so I can please her. But for the purposes of our experiment, I don’t need to spend that much money—the issue we created for it could be fixed by replacing one simple part—and I’m certainly not going to fund my competition any more than I have to.

  “No, just getting the one issue fixed is all we need,” I tell her.

  While Megan puts us down for Friday, Cody pulls me away a few inches to get at my ear.

  “Let’s go through with the order just to see how good the competition is,” he mutters to me. “And hey, don’t just leave your bike, man. Leave your phone number with this girl and get her number. You two obviously like each other.”

  Megan starts to smile. She likely heard that.

  “So, what made you want to work here?” I clumsily ask her.

  “I love motorcycles,” she replies. “Bikes and the bike culture—all of it has always fascinated me.”

  “I feel exactly the same way,” I say. “I love it all.”

  “How long have you been riding bikes?” she asks me.

  “Since I learned how to ride,” I say suggestively. “Do you like to drive or ride in the back?”

  “I like switching it up every once in a while,” she retorts. “Do you have the keys to the bike?”

  I go for the keys slowly, dragging out my time with Megan for as long as I can.

  “What time do you get off?” I ask her.

  “Later,” she says.

  “You doing anything later?” I further ask.

  “I’m not sure,” she answers. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline whatever it is you’re thinking of offering.”

  I chuckle, trying to backtrack out of my embarrassment. “I’m that transparent, huh?”

  I take out a piece of paper and write out my cell phone number for Megan before I hand her the keys.

  “Here’s my number, too,” I say as I hand them over to her. “Give me a call whenever you think you could fix the problem—or use it for any other reason. Give me a call sometime, yeah?”

  “Oh, nice and sly,” Megan says as she takes my keys and number. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to call you. You biker boys always have a bunch of girls around you. Do I really want to be a part of that or encourage that?”

  “We don’t always have a bunch of girls around us,” defends Cody. “Believe me, I wish we had girls with us all the time. I’d be a lot happier.”

  “You should come over to our clubhouse,” I say to Megan. “Let me spoil you. Kick back and chill with me after your shift. Come on.”

  “Maybe another time,” she says with a wink.

  She is being feisty, playing hard to get expertly. I like it. I can’t tell if she is into my flirting or humoring me, but I know I’m not done with her yet.

  Then, just as Cody and I are about to head out, someone comes out from the back of the shop. He is a big, grizzled man in his mid-forties, clearly a biker and clearly ready for us to leave. If I knew why he wants us to leave, I would have insisted that I stay.

  Before the man can even speak, Cody and I have summed him up. He is scum. He has tattoos on his arms and neck that are visible to me, and it gives him away as being a member of a rival gang. Not just any rival gang, but one that I have a heavy personal grievance with.

  “Hey,” the man barks. “I’m Jacob Evans, shop owner.”

  Cody and I both nod at him. “Hey.”

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt whatever is going on out here,” says Jacob. “I just wanted to come out and greet our customers. What you boys in for?”

  “Their bike isn’t starting,” Megan answers. “It’s out front if you want to take a look at it. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind.”

  “I’m sure they can speak for themselves, darlin’,” says Jacob snidely. He puts his hand on Megan’s back and begins to caress her.

  I can see a few things: for one, Megan is visibly uncomfortable with the way Jacob is touching her; she clearly doesn’t like it and he only seems creepier by the second. Secondly, his advances on her seem oddly animalistic; he appears to feel threatened by us (he is right to feel that way). Third, based on all the tattoos he has, I can tell he is high in the organization. I wonder how high he is. All the people in their gang have tattoos to identify themselves, but no one has ever publicly identified as the leader. My theory is that they want to remain as mysterious as possible so that people will be more intimidated by them just by seeing them; plus, they can collectively get away with more shit because it’s a fucking herd.

  “You leave your contact info?” Jacob asks us.

  “Yeah, our number’s there,” says Cody.

  “Might not be able to look at your bike today,” says Jacob as he stands closer to Megan and keeps touching her. “I’ll fit you guys in before the weekend, and I’ll give it to you for the best price in all of Reno. How does that sound?”

&nb
sp; I just want his odd, creepy behavior toward Megan to end. “Sounds good, Jacob.”

  We all shake hands, and I look into his eyes as I do it. There is something behind them…

  Cody and I leave Ultra-Cycle. He gets on his bike, and I have my eyes set on an Uber back to the clubhouse.

  “What you thinking?” Cody asks me.

  “Well, it’s certainly interesting, to say the least.”

  “It’s more than interesting or strange; it’s goddamn crazy,” says Cody. “Seeing that our bike shop competition might very well be operated by our club competition? There might literally be bloodshed over motorcycle shops.”

  “How interesting and strange is his behavior with Megan?” I bring up. “He is being so weird and touchy on her.”

  “He is definitely being creepy,” he agrees. “But how much better are you? You went from flirty to ‘Come over and suck my dick’ in ten seconds.”

  “Please,” I say, insulted. “I was being a proper gentleman. So… Jacob Evans. Owner of Ultra-Cycle… I feel like I’ve heard that name before.”

  “I know the name, but I’ve never met him,” says Cody. “He’s definitely one of the Hell-Snakes.”

  The Hell-Snakes are the rival gang that I have unfinished business with. I’m not sure who the President of the club is; his identity is kept quiet. For all I know at this point, it could be Jacob. Regardless, the President of that club gave an order that changed my life forever almost two years ago.

  “We can’t move too quickly yet,” says Cody while he tries reading my expression. “We don’t know much about this guy yet. You don’t want to enact revenge on the wrong biker.”

  “I’m only thinking he could be our guy because of his attitude and the tattoos,” I inform him. “I’m not going to do anything. Relax.”

  The reason that Cody fears an inappropriate reaction from me is because the President of the Hell-Snakes ordered his men to kill my wife.

  Needless to say, there isn’t a single Hell-Snake that I like, but I am still looking for the President—the nameless leader who took away the mother of my children. I intend to kill for a kill.

  I only wanted revenge… until I met Megan.

  40

  Megan

  I love working on Thursdays because I always share the same shift as my new friend Kelsey. Not only do I like becoming better friends with her, but she also provides support whenever Jacob behaves indecently with me. She never even has to do anything—just her being there ensures that Jacob will keep his hands to himself.

  I can handle Jacob by myself (it wasn’t the first time someone I worked with has come onto me), but the less I have to communicate my discomfort in the workplace to my boss, the easier and faster a shift will go by. I enjoy working at the shop. I like our customers, I like the pay and hours, and I love working around motorcycles all day.

  However, as much as I love working with Kelsey and hanging with her, I can feel myself becoming agitated the longer I put up with Jacob’s bullshit. I know I have to address it soon somehow, but I want to consult with Kelsey first.

  She and I take our lunch breaks at the same time so that we can go to Rob’s Way, a popular café in Reno that attracts a lot of bikers. Once we get there, we find our own seats and wait to order our lunches.

  While we wait for our server, I tell Kelsey about Jacob’s increasingly inappropriate advances. I tell her about everything she missed (she was off the day before), including the hot guy that came by, left his bike, and gave me his phone number. I tell her about how flirty he was being and about how it had set off Jacob and got him to touch me so openly and aggressively.

  “You’re hot stuff!” Kelsey says with a hearty laugh. “All the guys want you.”

  “Please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m sure he flirts with just about every woman he meets. He’s a biker.”

  “Bikers are fucking sexy,” Kelsey argues.

  “And I totally agree with you!” I concur. “That’s the point— and the problem. I’ve been involved with a lot of bikers. I’ve dated bikers before.”

  “We both have,” Kelsey reminds me.

  “It either doesn’t turn out well, or they turn out to be trouble,” I say. “And I don’t mean the fun kind of trouble.”

  “I know what kind of trouble you mean.” She laughs.

  Our waitress comes over and takes our order. I get a burger and fries. While we wait for our food, we turn to our phones.

  I decide to succumb to curiosity and look online to see if I can find my flirtatious biker on social media. I like snooping a bit at first because I like knowing whom I might be getting involved with. I’m not sure if I want to get involved with him, but I did put his number in my phone already, and I am anxiously anticipating seeing him again.

  “Who are you creeping on over there?” Kelsey asks me, her eyes wandering over to my phone.

  “I’m not creeping on anyone yet,” I correct her. “I am seeing if I could find my biker.”

  “Do you have his last name?” she asks.

  “Not on me,” I say. “I just know his name is Dustin. I can’t find him…”

  “Are you going to call him?” Kelsey wonders. “He gave you his number.”

  “He left his number for the shop so that any of us could hit him up once his bike is done,” I reply. “You could call him when his bike is done, and I’m sure he’d be just as happy.”

  I don’t have issues with how I look and I don’t have self-esteem woes, but I am quite envious of Kelsey’s looks. She always looks gorgeous. She is twenty-five, only a year younger than me, with long, curly blonde hair and striking blue eyes. She is also bigger, like me, but keeps her curves toned. If I were into girls, I’d probably come onto her.

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” Kelsey tells me. “I think he left his number so that you would call him. He practically says to do that, according to you.”

  “And then what?” I wonder. “I can’t go after another biker. I’d rather look and not touch.”

  As I say that, I look around the place and am disappointed to see not one attractive man in the place. I sigh.

  “You don’t have to get serious with the guy,” says Kelsey. “Even if you did, why not? Aren’t you tired of being single yet?”

  I laugh and try shrugging off the question. “I work tomorrow. I’ll see him when he comes back for his bike.”

  “What if the repairs take longer than a day?” she wonders.

  “If it’s meant to be, we’ll meet again I’m sure,” I say with some sarcasm.

  “You don’t have to date him,” says Kelsey matter-of-factly. “Just screw him! You says he’s good looking, why not? Get yours and get some!”

  “Say that louder please.” I chuckle.

  “When’s the last time you had sex with a guy?” she asks me.

  “It’s been about six months,” I admit. “I wouldn’t mind doing that with him, I don’t think… but I can’t just go around fucking every guy that hits on me.”

  “You’re not fucking every guy,” Kelsey observes. “Jacob’s been trying to put it in you since day one, and you’ve never done anything with him. Granted, he’s gross.”

  “I’ve been trying to steer him away and keep him off,” I say. “I feel like I have to walk a fine line. He’s our boss, and I don’t want him to get angry and fire me. I don’t want to lose my job.”

  “Uh, fuck that,” says Kelsey. “He’s straight molesting you. I’ve known Jacob a little while now and let me just say: it’s only going to get worse. If you don’t do something he wants, he’ll keep bothering you until you do.”

  I appreciate Kelsey’s bluntness and honesty. She’s been helping keep my head level since I moved to Reno, ever since my first day of work.

  Suddenly, to my complete astonishment, I see a very familiar face. At the front of the café, wearing jeans and a tight T-shirt under a black leather jacket, is Dustin. He looks around, scanning the place before picking a seat.

  “Holy shit
, that’s Dustin,” I mumble quietly.

  Kelsey follows my eyeline and spots him. “Tall, dark, and handsome? At the front in the black leather jacket?”

  “Yeah,” I confirm. “That’s—”

  “An unbelievable coincidence,” finishes Kelsey.

  “I talk about him, and suddenly he appears?” I ask rhetorically.

  “A lot of bikers come here,” she points out. “He’s probably been here before. He’s really cute.”

  Then, he sees me. He has facial hair, but even that can’t hide his widening smile. He isn’t just cute, he is incredibly handsome (dashing even, for a biker). His dark hair is neat and looks great; his blue eyes are powerful enough to pierce right into my soul, and he is heading right for me.

  “He looks tough,” Kelsey whispers. “He looks dangerous, but not in a bad way.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” I agree. “How do I look? How’s my hair?”

  “You look fucking great,” she says. “Don’t even think about it. He already wants you. Get him!”

  “Good day, ladies,” says Dustin pleasantly.

  “Hello,” we both reply.

  “Fancy seeing you here, Megan,” he says.

  “You remember my name!” I say with an impressed tone.

  “How could I forget your name?” he asks. “You’re unforgettable.”

  I blush, unable to come up with a witty retort.

  “I never got your last name,” he continues.

  “I didn’t get yours,” I reciprocate.

  “I’m Dustin Walker,” he says. “Hi, Megan’s friend, my name is Dustin Walker. Nice to meet ya’.”

  “I’m Kelsey Green,” my friend replies. “Right back at ya’.”

  “And, I’m Megan Paige,” I tell him. “Feel free to stalk me online now.”

  “I don’t use social media,” he informs me.

  This makes me feel better about not finding him on the Internet. My track record is good, so it did briefly bruise my ego.

  “I work with Megan at Ultra-Cycle,” says Kelsey.