Iron Goddess

Chapter 5-2

With the mess cleaned up, she and Terrance met in the office for an owners’ meeting while Monica, Switch, and Lakota took inventory of what had been stolen.

Shea sat flicking the spark wheel on her Zippo. Lenny Slater, the former shop owner, had given it to her on her first anniversary at the shop. It no longer had any lighter fluid and hadn’t since she’d quit smoking four years earlier. But she held on to it as a reminder of Lenny. Whenever she had trouble figuring something out, she flicked it until a spark of inspiration hit her.

“Shea, we need to call the Pink Trinkets and let them know what happened.” Terrance swirled the coffee in his Styrofoam cup from the café next door.

“No f*****g way!” She shook her head. “I don’t wanna give the Trinks a reason to cancel the contract. We can’t afford it. I’m gonna find them bikes and put a hurt on whoever shot Derek.”

“The show’s two weeks away. We don’t even have time to rebuild them. So unless you know who has the bikes, we have to cancel.”

“T, I ain’t giving up on this project. I’ll find the bikes and, with a little luck, get some justice for Derek.” She could still feel the stickiness of Derek’s blood on her hands, though they’d been washed.

“Okay, Miss Nancy Drew, what’s your plan?”

“Goblin thinks the Jaguars might be behind the break-in.”

“The Mexican street g**g?” Terrance’s eyes widened. “Sister, if they got your bikes, let them go. Don’t go messing with those psychos and their d**g cartel buddies unless you want to get yourself strung up from Memorial Bridge with your guts hanging out.” He crushed his now-empty cup and tossed it into the trash can.

“They put Derek in the hospital, busted up our shop, and stole half our goddamn store. It’s time for payback.”

“Payback? Shea, do you hear yourself? You sound like your old man.”

Terrance’s words sent a shock of fury through her body like she’d been hit with a stun g*n. Her fist tightened on the lighter. “Don’t ever compare me to that f*****g piece of shit.”

“Shea, listen to yourself. Since when are you all revenge and stuff? This ain’t you.” He put his hand on her arm. She jerked it away.

“That was before they tried to kill one of our crew. You wanna survive in this world, you gotta set boundaries. When someone crosses ’em, you gotta let them know there’s a price.”

“We been building bikes together for what? Ten years? I care about you despite your pasty complexion and a face that resembles a shar-pei’s ass.”

Shea smirked at his attempt at humor. “Uh-huh.”

“We are not a motorcycle club. We are not a street g**g. We are business owners.”

“Your point?”

“Point is, we care about our employees, but we don’t go to war over them. Not with the Jaguars.”

“These people aren’t just my employees, T. They’re my family.”

“Fine. Family’s good. I got my own son, Elon, to think about. You got Jessica. You want to put them at risk?”

“What’s your plan? Put our tails between our legs, tell the Trinks, ‘Sorry, ladies, your bikes got stolen. Here’s your money back’? We can’t afford it. We already spent the money on parts and materials.”

“If we have to, yes. The Trinkets will understand. It ain’t like we didn’t finish the bikes. We got robbed.”

“If we let this go unanswered, we look weak and are inviting more of the same. I grew up in the local criminal culture. Vulnerability is liability. We got a reputation to uphold. “

“Jesus H. Christ, Shea, what good’s a reputation if you’re dead? Maybe we can hire a few temps. Hellbent Cycles down in Phoenix has been wanting to collaborate for years. Maybe this is our opportunity.”

“The Pink Trinkets didn’t hire Hellbent to build their bikes. They hired us.”

Terrance buried his head in his hands and groaned. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

“You used to buy Adderall from one of the Jaguars, didn’t you? What was his name? Oscar?” She clicked away at her Zippo as a plan formed in her head.

“That was fifteen years ago. Dude’s probably dead or in jail.”

“Or maybe not. You mentioned once his family owns a taqueria, right?”

“Tres Olivos up in Ironwood.” Terrance’s voice sagged with defeat.

“Thought so.” She smiled, clicking her Zippo all the faster.

“Shea, even in the unlikely chance you find him, you think he’s going to rat on his own crew?”

Her smile faded. “I’ll remind him I’m Ralph’s daughter. Unless he wants a war with the Confederate Thunder, his crew needs to make things right.”

“Oh, so suddenly you are Ralph’s daughter. Have you lost your freaking mind? You don’t have any pull with the MC.”

“Yeah, but Oscar don’t know that.”

“This is going to go sideways, I just know it.” He shook his head. “When do you plan to do this?”

“Today. After I call the insurance guy and we get this place cleaned up, you and I are having a late lunch at Tres Olivos.”

Lakota opened the office door. “Geez, you guys! Can you keep it down? Switch is already freaky-deaky about Derek getting shot. You two yelling in here’s getting her more wound up.”

Shea sighed. “Sorry. Guess we’re all a little worked up today. I’ll go talk to her. Let her know Mommy and Daddy are done arguing. Where is she?”

Lakota pointed with her thumb. “In the garage, by the emergency eye wash station.”

Shea followed her out to where Switch sat on a stool, facing the wall, twisting a strand of her long hair, muttering to herself. “I told her I never went in there. That’s Daddy’s drawers. I knew little girls aren’t allowed in Daddy’s drawers. But she didn’t listen. No! She called me mentirosa. Liar!”

“Switch?” Shea pulled up another stool. She was tempted to put a calming hand on Switch’s shoulder, but last time she’d done that, Switch broke Shea’s nose with her elbow. “Hey Switch, it’s me. Shea. You with us, kiddo?”

“She said, ‘Don’t you dare touch that razor.’ Tried to tell her wasn’t me. It was Jamie that done it. Ouch! Ouch! No, Mommy. Please, Mommy!”

“Come on back, Switch. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. Everybody loves Switch.” She shuddered to think the hell the girl had endured at the hands of her s******c parents.

Switch turned and looked at her, eyes wide with fear, arms tucked close to her frail body. “Everybody loves Switch?”

“Yeah. You’re safe now, darlin’.”

Like a puma, Switch pounced at her, wrapping her arms tight around her torso. The suddenness of the move startled Shea, but she held Switch for a few moments until the darkness faded enough for the young woman to reconnect to the present.

Switch leaned back, face blank. “I got work to do.” She stood up and walked off to where she’d been working on a fuel injection module, as if the meltdown a moment earlier never happened.

Shea stood to go back to the office. Lakota stopped her. “Whatever’s going on between you and Terrance, work it out quietly before she gets any worse.”

“Yes, boss,” Shea knew Lakota was right, but was too worked up herself to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

No sooner had she sat down at her desk than Monica poked her head in the doorway. “Hey, your Scottsdale housewife girlfriend is here.”

“Would you quit calling her that? She’s not a housewife. She works at an insurance company.” She looked through the office window and saw Jess, dressed to the nines as always. The perfect complement to Shea’s baggy Iron Goddess T-shirt—sans b*a—and grease-stained jeans. Shea waved, and Jessica blew her a kiss.

“Sorry, I figured Lady Jessica Taylor of the Snottsdale Taylors sounded a bit pompous.”

“Gee, you think? Be nice.” Shea walked out of the office and gave Jessica a hug. “Hey, babe.”

“Hi, sweetie. Morning, Monica.”

“Oh, hi, Jessica,” Monica said with a saccharine grin. She went to assist a customer who’d walked in with Jessica.

Jessica looked her up and down. “You ready to go?”

“Go? Oh s**t. That’s right, sushi! Can you gimme a raincheck? We’re still sorting through this mess. Besides, Terrance and I have a business lunch in a while.”

“Oh, maybe I can join you.”

“Would love you to, but you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s sort of . . . there’s gonna be some tense negotiating there. You’d be bored.” And in mortal danger, Shea thought.

“When will I see you? I feel like you’re more committed to this store than you are to our relationship.”

Shea sighed. “Well, I am the co-owner and have been for several years. You and I’ve only been dating a few months.”

“What’re you saying?” Jessica pouted. Shea hated when she pouted.

“Look, sweetie, I’ll be home after work and we can finally have some quality time. Maybe we can grab some fish—er, sushi for dinner.”

“Okay. Kisses.” Jessica gave her a peck on the lips and walked to the plywood-covered door. “Love what you’ve done with the place. Very minimalist.”