Page 8 of Closing on Lynx

I look down at my phone and smile at the search history I was looking at. Sending a text to Neo. I need him to run a background on Jessikah.

“Lynx, you wanted to see me?” Spin says, as she pokes her head into the office.

“Yeah, come in and have a seat.” I motion for her to take the chair in front of my desk.

“Am I in trouble?” she asks, sliding into the chair, and then folding her hands in her lap. She sits like she is at church, listening to the preacher speak about verses and good deeds. You can tell this woman has never been in trouble.

“Why are you a club girl, Spin?” I ask, not staying on topic, because I generally want to know why.

“I-I umm.” She takes a deep breath. “I feel safe when I am here. Like the monsters of the world would have to go through you guys to get to me.”

“Are you in trouble?” I ask.

“I am the youngest in my family. My dad died when I was sixteen, and my mom and older sister have had a slew of men rotating in and out of the house. They like to try to force me to do things. At least here, I can choose if and when I want to have sex,” she says, her chin dropping to her chest.

“Do you want one of the empty apartments we own?” Pulling up the list of empty apartments we have and looking for the one that is closest to her place of employment.

“I can’t afford to live on my own,” she states. Her fingers are clenched into a tight ball.

“Didn’t ask that. You want a one bedroom it’s yours. You can move in on Saturday.” She lifts her head and smiles. “We will work out something rent wise. I know you are working and going to school, so we will make sure you are covered and safe.”

She squeals. “Oh, my goodness, thank you so much, Lynx.” She goes to stand, and I raise my hand.

“I need you to stop bringing Spun around the club. She’s banned. The brothers and I no longer want her around.”

She nods. “I have never invited her here. She always follows me when I leave the house and uses my name to get past the guards at the gates. I have asked the prospects to stop letting her in and they ignore me,” Spin states, a fire burning in her eyes as she spews the words out about her sister.

“I will deal with the prospects, and the brothers will help you move. If your sister continues to harass you or the club, we will come up with a plan on how to deal with her.” She nods her head and stands.

“Thank you, Lynx,” she says, her voice soft and innocent.

“For?” I ask.

“Making me feel like I matter to someone.” She gives me a smile and leaves the room.

***

“Pres, we have to head to the mall. The leather store has asked us to come and see them in regard to their back rent and what they can do,” Sue states, tapping on the doorframe. Finishing the accounting I was working on, I flip over to the leather store’s invoice and print off what I need to present them. They agreed to pay us three thousand dollars for our space, and they are behind six months. I know business hasn’t been good, but they should have looked at their finances and made sure everything was on the up and up. When they started to red line, they should have talked to us.

“They are six months behind. You would have thought they would have stepped up sooner,” I mumble, grabbing my papers and heading out to my bike. Sue following behind me.

“You know they are either going to back out and we are left with an empty store and a huge overhead,” he states, starting his bike just as mine roars to life.

He isn’t wrong. The Mackleson’s have rented space for three years. They have never been behind until this year. Either something major happened to the couple, or revenue sucks and they are struggling. Either way, we are going to have to figure out the next steps for the club and this couple.

The ride to the mall takes us about fifteen minutes. When we park outside the store and make our way to the opening, we are struck with how empty it is. Sue looks at me, worry etched on his face as he opens the door and we walk in.

Bright orange and yellow clearance signs are scattered all over the store. Mr. Mackleson is sitting behind the counter. His head hung and shoulders slumped.

“Ed, what’s going on?” I ask, approaching the counter and placing my hand on the top of the glass. There are beautifully crafted saddlebags inside. On the one wall, the coats and vest hang with a minimal amount of product. Their feminine undergarments are in a bin, and it’s nearly empty.

“Paul, I need to talk to you about the store. I know we are six months behind, but I have to stop the lease,” he states, a hint of disappointment in laced in his voice.

“What’s going on?”

“Katalina passed away six months ago. It was sudden and unexpected. I have been struggling to keep the store afloat since then. I just can’t stand to be in a place she loved so much. I want to make a break and move back to the Kingston area to be closer to my family. For me and for the kids.” He finishes; the tears well in his eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks.

“We understand. I am so very sorry for your loss. The club will pay for your relocation, and we will run the store until all your product is gone. Pack up and go,” I state, placing my hand on his shoulder.

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