Hearts Ablaze (Forged in the City Book 1) Page 2

  By the end of repair hours at the shop, I’d repaired the Harley and had it purring like a giant kitten. Bay slapped me on the back and smiled. “Come to my office. I’ve got some paperwork and some questions.”

  I couldn’t help the grin as I ran my hand over the bike before shutting it off. I worried about the paperwork and questions, but I knew I’d impressed Bay and I’d had a hell of a great time doing it.

  We settled in Bay’s office and he tossed me a bottle of water. “So, I’ll be upfront here. I’m going to ask a lot of really invasive questions. You can lie or dodge them, but in order to be hired, I’m going to run a background check. So, you may as well be honest about your past.” He gathered a packet of papers. “I’m not going to deny you employment based on mistakes of the past. A lot of those guys out there,” he pointed to the shop, “have less than stellar backgrounds. But they work hard, show up, do a good job, and respect me, my business, and my family. It’s all I can ask. While I might not be thrilled to have some of them watching my eight-year-old son or infant daughter because of their lack of experience with kids, most of them I’d trust with my life, my children’s lives, my husband’s life.”

  My eyes shot to his. “You have a husband?”

  Bay cocked a brow. “I do. We’ve been married about three years now. His name is Kyson. That going to be a problem for you?”

  I swallowed thickly. “No, uh, not at all. Just never worked in a shop where a gay man could be out and proud and married with children and all that.” I wanted to go on, explain more. Tell Bay that his sexuality and relationship being accepted at this shop gave me hope that one day I could date whoever I wanted and no one would give me shit. But I had a lot more to think about right then than dating. So, I kept it to myself.

  “Most of the guys aren’t throwing me a rainbow parade, but they respect me and know that I don’t tolerate bigotry of any type.” Bay smiled. “Plus, they adore Arlo and Cori. And Kyson won them all over with free sessions at his massage practice.” He straightened the pages and clicked a pen. “So, tell me what brought you here.”

  I launched into a very open and honest tale of how I was the result of an affair. My dad stuck around, mostly on weekends, until I was about two before he got fed up with Mom and left to devote his time to his “real” family. I could still remember what Dad looked like; I saw him every day when I looked in the mirror.

  After about three years of drowning her sorrow in an ocean of Jack Daniels, my mom took off. Took me to a neighbor’s, hugged me, and told me she was sorry and that she wanted so much better for me, and waved goodbye. She never came back. The elderly neighbor was in no position to care for me long-term, so I ended up in the care of the state.

  Bay frowned when I told of the craptastic experiences I had in foster care. I shrugged it away. “Not all foster homes are bad. Guess I just had bad luck.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest as I told of my early involvement in gangs. Drugs, stealing, battery, sex, I spilled it all.

  “You sold drugs? Did drugs?” Bay steepled his fingers under his chin.

  I shook my head. “No, I was just their runner. I didn’t even realize what I was running until I was much older.”

  “What did they have you stealing?”

  “Mostly parts from rival shops and clubs.” I shrugged. “I never really got in good with any of the crews because I moved so often. I was just a grunt.”

  “You harmed others?” Bay cocked his head.

  I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. “The last club I was involved with would do these fight nights. They’d pair up rival members and put them in the ring, bet on them, and let the fight go until one guy was out for the count or worse. They liked to bet on me to win; I usually did. They’d give me a tiny cut of the pot.”

  “Sex? Consensual?” Bay’s jaw looked ready to pop.

  I took a deep breath. “I was an early bloomer. Two of the crews liked that about me and let me ‘earn my keep’ with anyone willing to fork over cash or weed.”

  “Fuck,” Bay bit out. “They pimped you out?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, in hindsight, I know that’s what they did. But I was a teen with raging hormones. I got some money, they fed me, let me work on bikes around the clock, and woman were all over me from the time I was thirteen until I left around age twenty. At the time, I thought I was the luckiest son-of-a-bitch around. Most of the women were pretty young, I looked a lot older than I was, and I was just as eager for it as they were.”

  “That’s a hard pill to swallow. Consensual, but under the legal age of consent. By definition, statutory rape.” Bay blinked slowly and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry you were a part of that. Were you safe?”

  “Yeah, that was the one thing that was always pounded into my head. They were involved in drugs, theft, and a handful of other illegalities, but condoms were a must. How weird is that?” I chuckled with no humor.

  “Just women?” Bay frowned.

  I swallowed thickly. “No way a guy could have paid for me without calling major attention to himself. And that definitely wasn’t something a guy in those groups wanted to do.” I stared at my shoes. “Didn’t keep me from wishing some of the guys my age, a couple of the older ones too, would show some interest. Just wasn’t something that happened. Not without major consequences.”

  Bay nodded. “I can see that. Well, Whitfield’s isn’t like that. We’re legal in everything we do. No one has to do anything to ‘earn their keep’ and everyone is safe here no matter their gender or sexuality. I want you to know that. Whether you end up working here or not, this is a safe space.”

  My heart warmed and I sniffed away the sting of tears.

  “What made you get out?” Bay scribbled a few notes.

  “Finally wised up. Figured out when I was about sixteen that they had me running drugs. Worked my way to finally being able to leave at twenty. I hightailed it out, crossed a couple state lines, found odd jobs here and there. Found temporary work with different shops. Couch surfed a lot, took advantage of hotels with weekly and monthly rates, and steeled myself to do honest work. I refused to turn out like my parents. Refused to be like the crews I’d fallen in with. Ended up in Indy by chance. Whitfield’s was the name everyone mentioned when I asked about motorcycle shops.” My cheeks heated after the words spewed from me. “Sorry, that’s a lot of shit to take in.”

  “No worries,” Bay said with a soft smile. “You give your permission for me to run a detailed background check?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I got in trouble as a minor, but nothing on my adult record. Not sure how I managed that, but I’ll take it. May find a couple speeding tickets. My credit isn’t stellar.”

  Bay slid a piece of paper across the table and I signed for the background check.

  “You got a place to stay?” Bay asked.

  “Not yet. But the hotel I’m at isn’t terribly far from here. I’ve got a bike for back and forth. I’m punctual and I’m a hard worker.” I liked Bay, I loved his shop, and my heart already hurt at the idea of not working here.

  Bay put the papers in a folder. “What would you think of taking a slightly lower salary in exchange for the apartment upstairs?”

  My eyes grew wide. “For real?”

  He nodded. “It’s small and nothing fancy. But if you’d be willing to make a slightly lower salary and maybe help with shop clean up, keep an eye on things, the apartment is yours. Utilities are covered. You can use the cable and internet we use for the shop and sales floor. You’d basically just have to pay for your own groceries and toiletries.”

  I stared at him for what felt like an eternity waiting for him to laugh, say he was joking, or add in something nefarious. He didn’t. He just waited. “Seriously? Like I could work here, keep the shop clean and looked after, live upstairs, and get paid?”

  Bay smiled. “Assuming the background check doesn’t raise any red flags, and you want the job, yes. Some of the guys only work evenings or weekends part time. So
me of them have clients who request them. I’d be looking for you to work weekdays, mostly ten to six. Keep an eye on things since you’ll be right upstairs. Weekends you can pretty much set your hours. And, as a newbie, you’ll get whatever jobs others don’t want. But based on what I saw you do with that bike back there, you’ll be earning your own clients and top jobs in no time. No smoking, chewing, or vaping in the building. Weed is a big no onsite; don’t care what you do offsite on your own time. No drinking on the clock.” He cocked a brow. “What do you think?”

  My head felt fuzzy and I nearly swallowed my tongue, but my face broke into a wide smile. “Yes, definitely yes. Where do I sign?”

  A week later, I was moved into my new upstairs apartment and officially hired by Bay at Whitfield’s Motorcycle Sales and Service.

  I smiled as I recalled the first day I met Bay. Checking the clock on the wall in the service area, and ignoring the teasing comments from some of the guys, I set about cleaning the shop floor, arranging tools, picking up trash, and even went to the retail stockroom to be sure it was organized.

  “Oh, good. The maid is here. This place was looking like a pit,” Jorge hollered from where he was working. He wasn’t wrong, the guys were pigs for the most part, but I knew his comment was just in fun.

  “Well, if you all would clean up after yourselves, I wouldn’t have to be so picky with keeping this place looking good. Bunch of pigs. What do your own places look like? Disasters based on the way you junk this place,” I teased as I swept.

  I was pretty particular with keeping things clean. Maybe it was just my nature, maybe it was the filthy homes I’d been forced to live in, likely a combination of the two. Keeping things neat and tidy calmed me, gave me a sense of purpose, and kept me useful to Bay.

  By six, I’d finished the clean-up and threatened bodily harm against anyone who messed it up. With a wave, I headed upstairs to shower off the grime that inevitably came with working in a motorcycle shop. I tossed my work jeans and black t-shirt in the wash and jumped into the shower as my stomach rumbled loudly.

  I thought to the groceries I had in the apartment. Ramen noodles, frozen pizza, cereal, oatmeal, bread, milk. Beer, soda, water. I could also order pizza. I had food, I wouldn’t starve. I shook my head and chuckled. Who was I kidding? I knew I’d end up at The Salty Lizard like I did almost every evening for dinner.

  Bode and Sage Silver, owners of The Salty Lizard, had welcomed me with open arms when Bay introduced me to them six months ago. Actually, their whole group had accepted me. Bay’s husband, Kyson, was one of the calmest, kindest people I’d ever met. Their kids, Arlo and Cori, were fucking adorable. Bode was Kyson’s cousin. Bode was married to Sage—a fact that struck me as strange when we all first met because Sage looked younger than me by at least a couple years and Bode was definitely at least a bit older than me—and they had a little boy named Oliver. They had been foster parents for him at first, but he now belonged to them. Bode and Sage had just recently taken in Rosie, a little girl about seven who had the prettiest blonde curls and icy-blue eyes I’d ever seen.

  The crew was rounded out by Bode’s twin, Benji, and his husband, Rhys. Benji and Rhys had two great dogs, Bear and Brawn. I didn’t get to see them as often as Bay, Bode, and Sage, but they were great guys.

  If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be working a dream job, with a fantastic apartment, and six men and their families as friends, I would have laughed. But here I was. I had actual friends, a steady job, and a great little place to live.

  Sometimes I got a little jealous of the guys and their happiness, but, for the first time in my life, I felt safe, peaceful, and stable. Maybe I was still missing that connection, the close friendship or relationship like the Silver crew had, but I was only thirty. If and when the right person came along, I was now in a position to form that connection.

  A flash of sadness hit me as I thought of my parents. Was I destined to be sad and alone because of them? I shook off the melancholy and headed down to dinner at The Salty Lizard.

  3

  Chase

  Once Aunt Ginny sent me the address and I plugged it into my phone GPS, I realized I was less than thirty minutes from her. I stood and nearly ran to my car. Then I froze. Shit. It wasn’t my car. Todd would be wanting it back. And I needed to get applications. I took a deep breath before making a split-second decision. Fuck it. I wasn’t going to miss a chance to see Aunt Ginny after ten years. I stalked to the car.

  Twenty-five minutes later, I checked the address and climbed from the car. I frowned and my stomach flipped as I walked into Rose Gardens assisted living. An antiseptic scent was only slightly hidden by a flowery one. A lady at the front desk looked up when I walked in.

  “Welcome to Rose Gardens, how can I help you today?” She smiled.

  “Um, I’m supposed to meet Virginia South?” I stumbled over Aunt Ginny’s real name.

  “Perfect. She said she was expecting a guest. Follow me.” The lady, Nicole as her name tag indicated, stood and gestured toward a door.

  I silently followed her down a large main hallway. We reached a T; to the left and right were two smaller corridors.

  “Ginny spent some time in our medical wing earlier today.” Nicole gestured toward the left. “But she should be running game time by now.” She pointed down the hallway on the right. “I’ll show you to the community room.”

  I swallowed thickly. Aunt Ginny needed assisted living? What did she need in the medical wing? Was she sick? As I walked behind Nicole, I recalled Aunt Ginny as she was the last time I saw her. She was planning to retire from the airline at age fifty-five and then work at a bookstore or something similar. So, she was probably fifty-three when I left home. That would make her, what? Sixty-three? That wasn’t old, not at all. What could she be doing in an assisted living center?

  As we entered the community room, I heard laughter as Bingo numbers were called. I recognized Aunt Ginny’s voice before I even saw her. And then she turned, her short, silvery white hair still as stylish as I remembered, and smiled as if I was a treasure she’d spent her life looking for. I walked toward her and soon I was engulfed in a hug that I didn’t even realize I’d been missing. My chest ached as she held me and sniffled against my shoulder. She’d never been a large woman, more like a large personality, but she was frail and too light in my arms.

  Aunt Ginny pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Chasen Scott Steele, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” She gestured to someone behind her and the man took over the Bingo game. “Come on, we can visit in my room.”

  We walked, hand-in-hand, from the large room and down yet another hallway to a door that Ginny pushed open. She swept her hand in an inviting gesture and I entered a tiny little room with a bathroom, a hospital bed, an assistive recliner, a couch, a small table and chair, and a television.

  “Why do you live here?” I blurted. “I’m sorry. I’m so glad to see you and to know we live so near each other. But why are you living here?”

  Ginny patted my cheek. “There’s the curiosity I’ve missed. Do you have some time? This story will take a while.”

  I glanced at my phone and winced. “I’m borrowing my roommate’s car.” I made another split-second decision. “If he can get up here to get his car, can I sleep on your couch? Do they allow you to have overnight visitors?”

  Ginny waggled her brow. “Well, not the type of overnight visitors I’d like to have, but you sleeping over is fine.”

  I blushed. “Let me text Todd and tell him I can’t make it back with his car.”

  Five minutes later, after Ginny had produced bottled water from a tiny refrigerator I hadn’t noticed earlier, my phone pinged with a text filled with more expletives than anything else. I sighed.

  “Need to leave?” Ginny nodded toward my phone.

  I held my head in my hands. “No, but Todd is less than happy with me. He wants me out by the end of the month.”

  Ginny gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry. No, you go a
head and take the car home. We can do this another time.”

  “No, it’s not your fault. Our situation was coming to a close sooner rather than later, it’s just even sooner now.” I reached over the table and took her hand. “Now that I’ve found you,” I paused at the way she smirked, “okay, now that you’ve found me, I’m not leaving until I know everything.”

  “Well, then, settle in my boy.” Aunt Ginny took a sip of her water. “Why did you leave? Where did you go?”

  I took a deep breath and gave her a sad smile. “My mom was a drug addict, alcoholic, abuser. I turned eighteen and never looked back.” I shrugged and tried to swallow my anger and hurt that Aunt Ginny had never saved me.

  She nodded and a tear slid down her cheek. “That’s what I was afraid of. I’m so sorry I never knew. I don’t know how I didn’t realize it. I truly hate myself for letting you live through that. I have no excuses. Yes, I was busy traveling the world and living my best life, but there’s no way I should have missed that.” Ginny continued to cry silent tears. “It wasn’t until you left and your mom contacted me to see if I’d seen you, that I realized something was wrong. I dropped in with no warning and found her drunk, high, and violent. The first moment I stepped into the house, I began to realize I’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.” Ginny reached for a tissue as she sniffled. “Your mom went on such a rampage, saying such horrible things about you, about me, that I was quickly slapped by the reality that you’d been living with a monster and I’d had no clue.”

  My throat tightened and my nose burned as I blinked rapidly. “I know now that you didn’t know, but back then I wanted you to fly in, swoop me up, and save me.”

  Ginny sobbed and held my hand. “Why, why, why didn’t you tell me? I would have taken you away from her in a heartbeat.”

  The tears I’d been fighting finally won. Hot wetness streamed down my face as I shook my head. “I didn’t have any way to contact you. Mom never let me have a phone—at least not one of my own that I could use without her knowing. I never knew when you were coming. I didn’t know how to get you away from her to tell you. And then what? I was scared to tell you and have Mom find out. What if she was worse to me? Or hurt you? Or, my biggest fear, she made you stop coming to visit?” I angrily wiped my tears. “I was a kid, I didn’t have resources, I didn’t have a way out.”