Chapter Eight: The Sun is Setting

Trick

"G," I sigh, running a hand over my unshaven face. "I've worked with you more than any other motherfucker who brought their bike in here to me without the money to pay for the work I did. I've cut you deal after deal."

He rolls his eyes at me. Rolls his eyes. This little shit standing in front of me is about to feel the wrath of my anger. If it wasn't for his mom, he would have felt the wrath two weeks ago when I started working on his damn bike. He's wearing his hat to the side in a way that irritates the fuck out of me. He has tattoos on his arms and those piss me off, too. They're typical, they don't mean anything to him. I found this out when I asked what the Chinese symbol on his arm meant. He had no fuckin' clue…said he'd just picked it off the wall.

That's the kind of person I'm dealing with here.

"Dude," he starts.

"First of all, I'm not your dude," I rise to my full height, squaring my shoulders. I see he's mistaken my kindness for weakness. I'll make sure he doesn't again. "Second of all, I'm doing this shit as a favor to your mom because we've known each other since we were kids. If she knew what a shit you've been to me about payment, she'd probably knock your snot-nosed eighteen-year-old ass out. I'm gonna save her having to deal with you and do it myself."

"Hey, hey, hey," he holds his hands up in front of him, eyes wide, as he retreats.

Wanting to appear calm, I deceptively cross my arms across my chest and lean against the wall like I got all day. "Now, I think you realize the severity of the situation. I cut you a fucking deal for the work I did, and you disrespect me like this? I want my money tomorrow, G. I know you have it." He's dealing dime bags to every high schooler within a five-mile radius. I'm not saying he's rollin' in the dough, but he's got enough to give me my five hundred that I'm owed.

"What if I don't?" he asks, his hazel eyes green bright, cocky ass smirk on his face. He's turned around, taking his bike with him, walking out of the open garage door.

This kid thinks he can play me? "If you don't, you know how to get it. Don't mistake me for a dumbass. I was fourteen when I did my first stint in juvie. I'm not playing around with you. You're an adult who needs to take care of his own business."

"Aren't you on probation?" he throws over his shoulder as he takes a seat on the bike.

"That's your parting shot? It's none of your damn business and makes no difference when it comes to our situation. I want my money tomorrow," I yell, making sure he can hear me.

I watch as he leaves, letting out a deep breath, willing my shoulders to relax. Never has a kid not old enough to buy alcohol pissed me off so badly. God, kids today. If my kid ever talked to me like that, I'd show him a thing or two about respect. Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I text G's mom, letting her know if he doesn't pay me tomorrow, I'm going to teach him a lesson.

T: I won't hurt him.

She texts back quickly.

G's Mom: I know, I just don't know how to handle him anymore.

There are a million things I can say, but I don't. I want nothing to do with the cocky little prick. He reminds me too much of me, and some days, I can't even deal with myself. I'm too pissed to even finish the job I'm working on. Instead of taking my anger out on parts that'll cost me money, I decide to close down for the night. As I shut up the shop, I wonder how Hadley would handle the situation if Riley had been such a brat.

Easy, I don't think either of them would be in this situation. I back my bike out of the garage with my feet on the ground. I haven't gotten to take a pleasure ride in at least a week because I've been so backed up. It's time. I need a release of some sort, and this is the lesser of all evils. If I ride the bike, I don't have to wake up with it in the morning, with it expecting breakfast. If I ride a woman, she's gonna look too deeply into it.

As I turn towards the bridge, my breath catches. The sun is setting over the river, making the backdrop of the city a gorgeous painting. These are the views I'll miss if I don't man up and do my hours.

Riley would love this. The thought comes out of nowhere. But the way she'd colored those pictures? She's definitely artistically talented and I have no doubt she'd enjoy the way the orange is melting behind the buildings. On impulse, I pull over, reach into my jacket and grab my phone. I tell myself I'm taking the picture for me, but I'm taking it for her too.

More resolute than ever, I tell myself I'm never going to miss a view again.