Page 29 of Stranger Gifts

He looked down at the motorcycle with lust and desire, like a man would look at a naked woman. He’d asked specifically for a 110 cubic inch bagger with header, custom paint, and custom seat and handlebars. They’d do the custom paint later, but the bike was ready to roll other than that.

Skull and Whiskey, nodded, smiling at him.

“We can be difficult to get a hold of but that has to do with the demand for the bikes,” said Whiskey. “We had fifty bikes yesterday morning and now we’re down to just these eleven. Guys were coming in with cash.”

“Brother, you should have auctioned them off. You would have gotten twice their value,” said the man.

“Naw, that’s not how we work,” said Skull. “We charge a fair price for the bikes and we get a fair price. Usually they’re all custom ordered but on occasion we’re able to offer them like this. It’s not very often, so consider yourself lucky.”

“When can you guys start on the custom tank?” he asked.

“We should be able to start on that next week. With any luck, we’ll have it done in three to four weeks,” said Skull. “I’ll handle it personally. Do you have an idea of what you want?”

“It will be pretty simple,” he smirked. “I feel certain you’ve done it before. I’d like the Navy logo on one side and the Coast Guard on the other.” Skull and Whiskey stared at the man grinning.

“You served?” asked Skull.

“Yes, sir. Navy for fifteen years and then transferred to the Coast Guard. I just wanted to be closer to home for my folks as they were getting older.”

“How are they?” asked Whiskey with genuine interest.

“They both passed. Thank you for asking. But the last few years were wonderful. I was there for doctor’s appointments, memories, all the things we wish we could have,” he said smiling. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I was there at the end for both of them and if I had been deployed with the Navy, I would have missed that.”

“I’m glad you got that, brother. Listen, you should have told us you served up front. You get a fifteen percent discount on the bike as a veteran.”

“Really? I can’t believe that,” he said shaking his head. “The only reason I can even buy it is thanks to the money my folks left me. It wasn’t much but it was enough to make me okay for a few years.”

“Now that’s a treasure for sure,” said Whiskey. “I’m Whiskey, by the way. This is Skull. What’s your name?”

“Leo. Leo Tilbury.” He shook their hands again, nodding.

“Leo, what are you doing now?” asked Skull.

“I’m actually working at the marina on boat motors,” he smiled.

“You’re a mechanic?” asked Whiskey.

“I am. Certified boat, car, and motorcycle mechanic. I have a bachelor’s degree in business but I like working with my hands,” he smiled.

“We understand that. We all have college degrees but prefer working with our hands,” said Skull looking over his head. He could see a few men that looked familiar and knew exactly who they were. He nudged Whiskey who nodded and turned to speak with the other guys in the booth.

Leo casually strolled around the motorcycle, looking up in the direction the men had looked.

“Ah,” he said. “Yeah, I saw those guys outside. They were speaking to local security and police, handing out cash if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s good information,” said Skull. “They’ve become a bit of a problem. They demanded our bikes and we refused to sell to them. Some things and people, we don’t want our name attached to.”

“I can understand. I heard from one of the guys at the marina that one of their boys was in jail, accused of raping a nun for shit’s sake.” Skull nodded again.

“Hey, man. We’ll hold the bike for you but you might want to step back. It’s not a surprise that they’ve shown up at the end of the day. The floor is getting empty and people are starting to leave. I’m guessing our friends are about to cause some trouble.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll stick around,” smiled Leo. “I haven’t had a lot of fun these past few months. I think I could use an energy release.”

“If you’re sure,” nodded Skull. “We never turn away a brother looking for fun.” Leo stood off to the side, still admiring the motorcycles, when Killer walked toward the booth.

“Well, well, well,” smirked Whiskey. “We heard you were feeling under the weather. Looks like you lost a few pounds.”

“Fuck you,” he growled. “I know you’re behind what happened to us.” Whiskey looked at the small group with him and grinned.

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