Page 206 of Misrule
Grinning, Outlaw turned and clapped his hand with the big man’s in some type of gang greeting.
“What’s up, brother?” the man asked.
“Comin’ to see what the fuck you got for a fuckin’ noob. How shit goin’?”
“Can’t complain. Next class is full. We got full bays on the other side, and sales of bikes and gear been good.”
Outlaw nodded.
“Got some new gear Meggie might like—”
Knox cleared his throat. “Excuse me? I’m Knox Harrington. You are?”
The giant held his paw out. “Chet Haynes. But just call me Haynes.”
“Yeah, this assfuck wanna learn to ride,” Outlaw explained as if he hadn’t exhibited his lack of social skills by not making introductions.
“Do you want to visit the machine shop, Outlaw?” Haynes asked, not responding to Outlaw’s announcement.
“Ain’t ever turnin’ that down.” Outlaw started forward, then stopped and beckoned Knox. “Come on, motherfucker.”
Not trusting Outlaw not to leave him if he didn’t follow the directive, Knox stomped behind him. In the middle of the showroom floor stood a spiral staircase that led upstairs. Oversized pictures of vintage Harleys hung on the walls over display cases filled with merchandise. In the center of the back wall, a few feet from a closed door, stood the circular checkout counter and another young man who resembled the two Chets behind it.
They walked behind the counter and headed to the door. Seeing daylight surprised Knox. Outside, across a small parking lot sat a building with four repair bays, each filled with motorcycles.
As they reached the shop, one of the mechanics revved an engine. The acrid scent of exhaust and hot metal burned Knox’s throat and turned his stomach. Another mechanic looked toward Knox and the three others, and stopped, cutting a hand across his neck. Everything halted.
“Outlaw!” one of them called, as if the man was some type of living god.
Smiling, Outlaw greeted each of the four new men, then went from bike-to-bike listening to whatever the ass kissers told him. He’d point to this or that, drawing even the two Chets in. Knox hung back, not interested in hearing anyone else give Outlaw the idea that he was an all-knowing being.
“Knox!” Outlaw finally called, waving him over.
Scowling, Knox took care with his steps, not trusting what the black puddles might be. He didn’t want his expensive clothes ruined. He stopped near the cult leader and his followers and squeezed his nose to close his nostrils. Damning his lack of a handkerchief, Knox ignored his watering eyes.
“What the fuck you doin’?” Outlaw demanded.
“Blocking the smells. What do you think?”
Drawing in a deep breath, Outlaw closed his eyes, pleasure clear on his face. He smirked at Knox. “Ain’t nothin’ like the smell of the machine shop. It soothes a man soul.”
The other men nodded in agreement, annoying Knox to no end.
“This Knox Harrington,” Outlaw introduced. “He marryin’ Roxanne. K-P old lady.”
Giant Chet smiled, but didn’t look at Knox, so he missed Knox’s rising anger. “How is she? She was always such a gorgeous thing. Two things that always stood out about her were that face and that foul mouth. Just my type of woman.”
“She’s my woman,” Knox snapped, “so don’t talk about her as if she’s a piece of meat. Take note of that, Outlaw. She doesn’t belong toK-P.”
“Ignore this motherfucker. Roxanne pissed off at him, so he been tryna commit suifuckincide. Ain’t obligin’ him today, though.”
“Very fucking funny,” Knox said.
“You see my motherfuckin’ ass laughin’, Knox? I can shoot the fuck outta you right the fuck here. Roxanne ain’t knowin’ you with my ass. You grounded and she just gonna end up believin’ you fuckin’ ducked out.”
“This is a business. You can’t commit murders here.”
“The fuck I can’t,” Outlaw said with irritation, “since majority of this motherfucker belong to the fuckin’ club.”
