Meredith shook her head at Dickie and then said, “Not at the moment… I have no idea where he’s at but if I had to guess, I would say out in the garage. Bobby called a few minutes ago and he started laughing and took off out the door.”
Dickie also started laughing and then said, “No worries… we’ll find him.”
Back out in the hallway, Dickie pointed out Bobby’s office door but didn’t take him inside since it was obvious he wasn’t in there.
Then Dickie pointed at a door with hand drawn pictures taped to the outside of it and said, “For when the kids visit and can’t be outside. It’s like a playroom or place for the kids to take a nap, or watch movies… whatever they want to do.”
“Meredith wants to turn it into a company sponsored child care center for employees, interns, and possibly customers who are working on financing a bike with her,” Dickie finished.
“This place is pretty amazing, considering it used to be unusable and unsafe to even be up here,” he replied.
Then he followed Dickie back downstairs past the receptionist and displays of clothing, merchandise and other accessories and through a doorway which should have led to the garage bay.
The area had been converted into a parts store of sorts and a couple of young guys were behind a long counter helping customers find specialized motorcycle parts.
“My wife, Becca, helped Bobby patent a few specialty parts several years ago. Now any custom designed parts that he comes up with are patented, trademarked and sold exclusively through the shop. This and the accessory stuff out front have become almost as lucrative as the bikes themselves,” Dickie laughed.
“Speaking of which… there’s a legal agreement in that packet of papers that Lilly gave you that you’ll need to read over and sign. Becca handles the legal side of things for the shop and that agreement just says you agree that anything created here at the shop, whether by you or someone else, is the property of the shop and you won’t sell it to one of Bobby’s competitors,”Dickie said with a smile.
A small light bulb turned on inside TJ’s head. The attorney that Tommy had recommended to him when he’d had questions about the song they’d sold that hit the charts had been named Becca. Was it possible that Dickie had married a lawyer? Interesting.
He tried to read the man’s features and what the look on his face meant but couldn’t. So instead he followed him outside and across a larger parking lot toward the building still under construction.
As they neared the larger structure, TJ could hear laughter and shouting filtering out from one of the open garage bays as though a competition of sorts was occurring. The older man’s pace picked up as if he was wanting in on the action as well.
TJ managed to keep up and upon entering the open bay his eyes were drawn to the big blonde kid who’d been loading things into Tommy’s van after the renewal wedding ceremony in Nashville. He was arm wrestling a man… and winning by the looks of things.
“Which one of you clowns is going to keep an eye out for Carla? I just walked in with no warning… what if it had been her instead? If she catches wind of this… you’ll all be in worse trouble than Gretchen ever thought about,” Dickie advised the group of men who were crowded around the two arm wrestling contestants.
“I truly worry about you sometimes, Sanders. Carla’s got your number on speed dial and all we ever hear is ‘yes, honey’ this and ‘yes, dear’ that. Pull on your big girl panties and just tell her that boys compete… on and off the football field,” Bobby said with a laugh to a blonde haired man standing near the boy who had just won the match.
“Who’s next,” the kid asked with a self-satisfied grin on his face.
“That’s what I mean, buddy,” Chuck said to the boy and bumped fists with him.
One more thing that hadn’t changed in this little town… they still played just as hard as they worked.
When another young man stepped up to the makeshift competition table, TJ stepped forward, pulled some money out of the front of his jeans and said, “I’ve got five on the kid.”
“Yeah, I’m in on that action,” another man said also stepping forward with money.
The blonde man standing near the boy shook his head as though he didn’t think it was good idea while Chuck fished around in his pocket for some money as well and laughing said, “You’re going to fit right in around here, TJ.”
Bobby approached him and held his hand out to him. “Welcome back, man. It’s good to see you.”
He shook Bobby’s hand and the next wrestling match was soon underway. With each adult the young boy beat at arm wrestling the noise level grew as well.
“What are you people doing?” Meredith asked from the doorway.
TJ nearly jumped out of his skin as did several of the other men standing around. The young boy jumped up from the table and ran over to the very pregnant and currently disapproving woman and gently hugged her and said, “We’re working off my extra energy, sis.”
“If mom catches you guys, it won’t be pretty. You’re one of my favorite brothers but I will not cover for you or even my husband,” Meredith said looking pointedly at Chuck. Then glancing around at the rest of the men she continued. “Shouldn’t you guys be working or training our newest employee or doing something besides contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”
“Come on, man. I’ll show you the paint bay,” Chuck said with a laugh and a wink for Meredith as he walked past TJ.
TJ followed behind Chuck but not before noticing Meredith walking away with the young boy, running her hands through his hair in a motherly fashion.
He’d missed the camaraderie between close friends. It had been a long time since he’d felt like one of the group rather than an outsider trying to be part of the ‘in’ crowd. He hadn’t realized that he’d been suffering with a case of homesickness all these years.
“Since you don’t officially start until tomorrow, I’ll just give you a tour of the garage for now. You’ll be spending most of your time in here though,” Chuck said, opening the door to a large room at one end of the building and then turning on the light inside.
The room was long and narrow but broken up into sections by long black plastic flaps that acted as doorways from one area to the next. The outer walls of the section nearest the entry door contained built in overhead shelves that stored everything one would need to paint a car or motorcycle.
Chuck opened one and pulled out ventilation masks from within and handed one to him and then donned the other one himself.
Moving past the first set of flaps, he was led into a room that contained a long counter and several hooks where parts of a bike could be hung, balanced or turned for the detail work required on a paint job.
TJ stopped to admire some of the items that had already been completed and were waiting on a finishing coat. An overhead ventilation fan competed with a blasting radio somewhere past the final doorway.
He followed Chuck through the last set of flaps to find a couple of guys working on the primer for one gas tank and speckling for another. The guys both waved at him and Chuck. He nodded back at them and then followed Chuck back out to the very front where they’d come in.
After putting the masks away they went back out to the main bay area where Chuck showed him all the other sections of the operation.
“I’ve got some other work to finish up and then I need to get Meredith home but I’ll see you first thing in the morning and give you a rundown of the jobs we’ve got in the works,” Chuck said. Then he gave TJ a funny look.
“What?” he finally asked when Chuck continued to stare at him.
“You seem to fit in here so well that I’m just trying to figure out why you left in the first place, that’s all,” Chuck replied.
“Long story short, I had to try and make it or I’d have always wondered what if…” he replied. “I know that probably makes no sense… seeing that I’m right back where I started from.”
“What about Sherri, though?” Chuck a
sked.
“Well… all things considered… she was right… I didn’t make it in the music business. Failing would have been a little easier to take had she at least been on my team and not counted me out before I even started,” he replied. “I guess this new guy of hers is a little less of a dreamer… a little more predictable… so I’m sure that works better for her.”
“Chris may be annoying as shit but as far as I can tell he’s decent,” Chuck replied as though defending either Sherri or Chris or both.
“That’s good. I’m glad to hear he’s not using or dealing anymore. I wish them both all the best… really,” he replied. The puzzled look on the younger man’s face told TJ that Chris’ shady past was news to Chuck. “I’ll see you in the morning, man.”
With that TJ walked out of the open garage bay and headed for his car. Chuck would have to make up his own mind and opinions about him. That didn’t mean that if given the chance TJ wouldn’t impart information to him that he would need to make an informed decision about whether to hate him because of Sherri or not. Right now he only had whatever Sherri may have told him to go on.
Chuck seemed like a smart guy so he had to know there were always two sides to a story. In this case there was Sherri’s side and the truth.
The truth being that she hadn’t believed in him… hadn’t been willing to look beyond her own dreams and goals to support his.
As for Chris Anderson, TJ had no vested interest in the man either way but one only had to do a background check to find out the shady details of his life. So it wasn’t like TJ was lying or just spreading rumors about him.
Bobby, Tommy and Dickie knew him from before Sherri so they knew he wasn’t the scumbag that Sherri probably made him out to be. In time, hopefully some of the others would give him the benefit of the doubt and get to know him. Form their own judgments about what kind of person he was.
In the meantime he needed this job… needed this change in his life… so he was prepared to deal with preconceived notions. And Sherri.
TJ managed to make it back to the apartment complex, fill out the application and then drive over to a small motel on the other side of town that should have been shut down years ago.
After renting a room and then unloading some of the things from the trunk that he would need until he was approved for the apartment, he decided to finish his drive around town along with his trip down memory lane.
The week that followed had him moving into an apartment, furnishing it with a few garage sale and consignment shop pieces of furniture along with the few items he’d managed to pack up and bring with him from Nashville.
Working at the shop wasn’t making music by any means but it would have to do and he at least enjoyed the guys he worked with. When Friday rolled around, Bobby went ahead and paid him for the week so he’d have a little bit of money to live off of until his first official payday hit.
With the weekend stretched out ahead of him, he was surprised that rather than heading back to his little apartment to take stock of what he had and what he still needed, he found himself in the parking lot of the bar.
He knew why he was there and he should be ashamed but he wasn’t. Having avoided the little bar and grill all week… existing on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and apples… had done little for his appetite for her.
Forget the fact that she could feed him a decent meal, he just wanted to sit quietly in a corner and watch her. It had been so long… and no one fired his soul the way that Sherri did.
It was a public place and he was a paying customer… she couldn’t ask him to eat his meal or drink his beer on the sidewalk out front.
Stepping inside the door his gaze immediately went to the bar. Finding what they were after, his eyes met hers and held. He stared her down for nearly a full minute before she finally looked away and began clearing empty glasses.
Walking over to the bar, he sat on one of the stools and looked around the place. She wasn’t doing the lousy business he’d seen the first time he’d come in but the place wasn’t hopping like it had been when he and Tommy were playing here.
“Can I take your order?” she asked, finally approaching him.
Looking away from the freshly painted walls, updated pictures and decorations, as well as the new booths and tables she’d installed since he’d left to where she stood, he said, “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
Frowning at his effort to strike up conversation and his overall niceness, she said, “Sometimes change is a good thing. Now what can I get you?”
“Change huh? You’ve changed as well… looking pretty good these days, Sherri,” he said with a smile.
She sucked in a breath and her frown went from mere irritation at his presence to downright scorn and she said, “You look exactly the same.”
“So you’re saying I still look like I’m in my twenties?” he said with a grin, an obvious attempt to flirt with her.
“You could say that… or you could say that you look outdated. I mean seriously… the eighties called and they want their hair back,” she replied dryly.
Now that right there was why he’d come in here tonight. He could feel the smile spread across his face and his cheeks began to ache from the feel of long unused muscles. God she was hot when she tried to blow him off… or defied him.
Forcing memories of the way she looked when she would finally give in to him, he simply smiled and said, “I need it… sometimes people like to run their fingers through it… or even pull it occasionally.”
The gasp escaped that sweet mouth before she could rein it in. She had been unprepared for the gall he showed in bringing up some of their more intimate moments within minutes of being in her presence. His smile widened even more.
He could feel the heat of anger coming off of her in waves but she remained calm and instead leaned down so she was closer to him, where there was less of a chance of being overheard.
Then she said, “Might want to be more careful with all that dirty talk around here… might offend someone. I’d hate to see someone snatch you bald… even if it did bring your looks into the new millennium. Now order or I’m going to have to ask you to move over to a booth so that there’s room here for paying customers.”
“I’ll take whatever’s on draft, a cheeseburger and fries,” he started.
Before he could continue, she just walked away. She may or may not realize it but that was the second time she’d simply walked away from him while he was still talking to her and to him that was like a challenge.
It was a challenge of his worth, a challenge to the value of his words and most of all a challenge to his manhood.
He felt himself grow hard as though to prove her wrong on all levels. Ten years ago he would’ve chased after her, drug her through the kitchen and out the back exit of the bar. He’d have pressed her against the side of the building and…
Plunking down his beer on the counter she leaned in close and said, “Did I cut you off while you were still talking? I’d hate to lose your business but I’d understand if you wanted to leave…”
Smiling he said, “No… I don’t want to leave. In fact, I may stay for dessert.”
Chapter Five
Ignoring him wasn’t working. She rarely drank while on the clock but she desperately wanted a shot of something strong that burned a path down her throat and heated her belly. Sherri could feel him looking his fill of her as a dog might stare at a steak and it was hard not to stare back at him.
Why did he have to look so good after all these years? His hair was outdated by today’s standards but it not only worked for him, it seemed to add to his good looks. She noticed a few girls at one of the booths eyeing him and whispering.
He took his damn sweet time eating his food and drinking his beer. When he’d finished he put his car keys on the bar but then got up and walked outside. She hated the fact that she knew he had walked out, not because he hadn’t paid his bill yet, but because she was that aware of him and what he was
doing every second while in her presence.
The girls in the booth giggled amongst themselves as they watched him leave and one of them even fanned her face as though she was over heated.
A few minutes later he returned with his acoustic guitar in his hand and it was like experiencing déjà vu to the first time she’d ever seen him.
As if he owned the place he walked back over to the bar and picked up his empty beer glass and shook it at her, indicating he was ready for another one. Hot anger shot down her neck and she found herself marching toward him.
Snatching the glass out of his hand she said, “Sorry but this isn’t Nashville. Around here we pay for dinner with cash not a song...”
Taking his wallet out of his back pocket he set it on the counter and grinning at her, said, “Here you go. The song is your tip. Unless you’d like me to work that portion of my bill off another way…”
“Oh hell no… I learned my lesson on that mess years ago,” she replied.
Winking at her, he then walked away heading for an empty area of the bar, guitar in hand. She hoped he would get bored of irritating her and just go… perhaps to whatever bridge or pier he was calling home these days.
Instead he was content to sit there and strum his guitar and sing along with the songs playing on the jukebox. So as not to offend her other patrons by her rudeness toward him, since the girls in the booth had decided to hang around and continue watching his antics, she eventually took him another beer.
Once the jukebox ran out of change and shut off, he took to playing and singing in place of it.
Just as he’d probably expected, people hung around longer than they would have normally. Though he was as good for sales as he ever was, she wanted him gone before the sight and sound of him was imprinted on her brain too deeply.
After his ten year hiatus she’d only been able to conjure up images if she both wanted to and tried real hard. Seeing him now in all his charismatic glory, she just wanted to chase him out of the bar using his guitar as the weapon with which to do so.
Spirited Ride Page 6
