Page 10 of Love in Mission City: The Shorts

Jesus Fucking Christ.Was he playing…Whitesnake?Here I Go Again.An eighties hair band?Seriously?I wanted to pound on the wall, but even I wasn’t that stupid.Solid brick.Should’ve been enough to keep out the noise.

I stalked to the bedroom to nab my iPod.I selected an audiobook and turned it on full volume.

And winced.I didn’t want to sacrifice my hearing just to block out the noise.Still, it lowered the rock music to a dull roar, and as I prepared my dinner, I tried not to cringe.No way was I going to be able to live like this for the next fifty years.

Hell, I’d be lucky to make it to the end of the week.

Chapter Four

Spike

Contrary to the image of biker dudes who drank beer and shot pool all night, I was an early riser.Nothing I loved more than heading out onto the open road and watching the sun rise.Tuesday morning, I did just that.Followed Railway Avenue to where it joined the Number Seven and rode right out of town toward Deroche.I wanted to go up to Agassiz or Hope, but I had to be responsible and open the store at nine-thirty.Unlikely anyone would notice if I was later, but I’d know.Responsible business owner.

Scared shitless.

I had a stack of paperwork I ignored last night as I painted my living room.In hindsight, I should’ve opened the windows sooner, but the day’d been hot and my a/c kept my place cool.Plus I blared my music pretty loud, and I didn’t want people meandering down First Avenue to hear my eclectic choices.No, better to keep all that to myself.

The sun glittered across the Fraser River as I drove down the winding road.My sunglasses dulled most of the glare, and despite having my helmet on, the wind whipped through my hair as I’d left it loose.I wanted to floor it, but traffic was getting heavier.With reluctance, I turned back at the dike.More cars surrounded me as I made my way westward.

A few of these insane souls made the drive to Mission City every morning before either hopping onto the commuter train or—if they were really nuts—driving the rest of the way to Vancouver.

As the Mission City sign greeted me, I soaked in the welcome implicit in the greeting.I’d made the right choice, coming out here.

Plus, real estate was half the cost of Vancouver’s.Creeping up with stunning velocity, but still cheaper for now.Even less than Surrey.

No, small town living suited me.I’d come from Kitimat, a small town up the coast toward Alaska.I’d blown town the moment I turned eighteen and hadn’t looked back.My father hadn’t asked me where I was going, and I’d never written to let him know.

I slowed down at the sign for thirty kilometers per hour through this main part of downtown Mission City.The street ran one way, and I eyed the Tim Horton’s.Better not.Until I had a steadier clientele, I couldn’t afford to eat too many meals out.

I’d taught myself to cook more than just KD and ramen noodles, so I had plenty of healthy foods in my fridge.A quick omelet before I started the day would hit the spot.Maybe a piece of toast with peanut butter and blueberry jam.I parked the bike by the front gate, hopped off, opened the gate, then drove through.I shut off the engine and was making my way back over to the gate, intending to lock it until opening time, when a blur of movement caught my eye.

Bookstore Dude strode into my yard, arms gesticulating.He was shouting something, but I couldn’t make out the words.I held up my hand, and he halted.I removed my sunglasses and helmet.As I shook out my hair, I asked, “What are you blathering on about?”

A vein in his neck pulsed and his cheeks were hectic with color.His hair looked extra spikey, as it he’d been running his hands through it.“I said, ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’”

The words came out venomous, and I gaped.“What are you talking about?”

He waved wildly.“You play that god-awful music half the night, and then you’re up before the ass crack of dawn, gunning your engine and taking off to God knows where—”

“Deroche.”

“Deroche,” he repeated.His face contorted into a weird look of disgust.“You got up at that hour to go to Deroche?Why, for God’s sake?”

“You’re taking the Lord’s name in vain quite a bit this morning.”Former Christian who attended the church from the moment I was born until the moment I told them I was gay.Let’s just say the Lord and I parted ways after that clusterfuck.

He chuffed.“Apologies to your moral sensibilities.Why…” He floundered.“Why Deroche?”

“Because then I was driving into the sun.Lovely morning, and I wanted to get a ride in before the day started.Responsible entrepreneur and all that.”I removed my leather jacket.The sun was high and climbing higher by the minute.Another scorcher.

“Well, I barely got any sleep.”His scowl was both deep and sexy.

“Yeah, you said something about music?”

“Your horrendous music.You played it so loud and—”

I held up my hand.“You’re saying you can hear it through the brick wall?”

“Yes, I’m saying I can hear it through the brick wall.”He wagged his finger at me.Actually wagged his finger at me.“I wanted peace and quiet, and I got Aerosmith.”

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