Page 42 of The Biker's Brother

“Thank you,” he said, feeling a little uncomfortable with the idea of being literally served by Trey Michaels. He waited patiently, or as patiently as possible, for Michaels to seat himself with his own salad plate.

“How long have you been with Carmichael?”

“Fifteen years.”

“Are you happy with your job there?” Trey set his salad plate down and proceeded to pour wine for Richard and then himself.

“Mostly.”

“Mostly,” Trey repeated almost absently. One word that spoke volumes and left the door wide open for negotiation. He sat down and picked up his salad fork. “Is your dissatisfaction with the work itself or with the station in life where you’ve found yourself stymied?”

Richard felt a little irritated that Michaels evidently saw right through what he’d believed was an impenetrable mask of composure. Not to mention that the use of the term ‘stymied’ was rather insulting.

“I didn’t say I was dissatisfied.”

“No, you didn’t. But to me, satisfaction means being able to answer that question with a word like ‘completely’. Not mostly.” He took a bite of salad then lifted his wine glass, looking at Richard as if he was studying his reaction. “So, if the answer isn’t ‘completely’, then what is it that’s coming up short? Work or lifestyle?”

Richard thought about that for a minute. He didn’t waste time contemplating either of those questions since he’d believed himself to be, as Michaels had rightly put it, ‘stymied’.

“If I was forced to answer, I’d probably say both. That I’d like new challenges at work and better remuneration.”

Trey nodded thoughtfully. “You know it’s no accident that you’re here with me today. For the past couple of years I’ve had the opportunity to observe how valuable you are.”

It would have been impossible for Richard not to respond to that sort of praise and recognition. He’d been unaware that he’d ever made a lasting impression on Mr. Carmichael’s associates, or extended family.

“That’s very flattering.”

“I don’t flatter, Hillfort. If it wasn’t true, I wouldn’t say it,” he lied. “The fact is that I believe you’re capable of much more. You’re being underutilized.”

“Nice of you to notice.”

“Not at all.”

Trey rose, took away the salad plates, placed the entrees on the china chargers and removed the stainless covers. Pecan crusted chicken breast fillets with poached tomatoes.

“Smells good,” Richard said. “And looks incredibly healthy.”

“You only get one body per life, right?”

Richard looked at him with open curiosity, but replied, “Right.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked if you’re married.”

“No. I’ve never been married.”

“Girlfriend?”

Richard smiled a little. “Sometimes. Nothing regular or lasting. I seem to become less attractive when women realize the extent of demand that my work requires. Most nights. Most weekends.”

“That’s no way to live, Richard.” Richard could think of no reply to that. “So let’s talk hypotheticals. I’m not claiming to be your personal genie, but I do have it in my power to change your life for the better.

“What if I was to offer you the deed to this condo? Twice your current salary and a contract that says you will work no more than fifty hours a week. Ever.”

Richard had frozen with a bite of chicken two inches away from his mouth. He lowered his fork, but didn’t close his mouth. “I would wonder what I have to offer that would bethatvaluable.”

“Very perceptive of you, Rich. As it happens, there is something you could do for me as a show of good faith, while you’re still with Carmichael.”

All of Richard’s internal warning signals were going off. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking the question. “What?”

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