Page 32 of It's Going to Be a Chrome Christmas
After five weeks of employment, he had the routines of Romero’s down. Cayden was a drifter. He worked where Trixie needed him to be, whether it was helping her in the office or out in the bay or detailing a ride. He loved it all. His parole prevented him from working on the sales floor, but Cayden had every intention of venturing out there once his term was up.No oneknew cars like he did. Cayden even had a bet with one of the salesmen, Adam, that he could sell that Spyder on his first day on the floor. Adam didn’t know it was a parole term that kept Cayden from the floor. Most believed Cayden was just too busy being Trixie’s lackey to spend a day out there with the customers. Cayden never corrected the assumption, though the more time he spent with his co-workers, the guiltier he felt by allowing the misconception to stand.
But he couldn’t risk losing another job or Trixie because people had found out he was an ex-biker. He wanted them to treat him for the person he was now, Cayden 2.0, and not damn him for his past sins. If Trixie, wonderful and sexy Trixie, could see past his rap sheet, no one else mattered.
The Thursday before Trixie and Cayden’s fifth weekend together, he heard his name called over the radio. He was working on changing out a battery in an FX. Putting it down on the work bench, he answered the call.
“Cayden,” he recognized Joey’s, Trixie’s assistant, voice, “can you meet Terrance at the bay doors? I just took a call for a Rolls Royce with temperamental brakes. Owners are at a conference, so the driver is bringing it in for maintenance. Trixie wants it done today and said you were available.”
Cayden rolled his eyes. Rolls Royces were so overrated. The owners probably thought themselves very esteemed for that purchase. Still, he wasn’t about to let Trixie down. “Sure thing.Tell Terrance I’ll be down once I complete this ticket.” Glancing at the FX, he added, “Maybe five minutes?”
“Will do. Thanks.”
Cayden put the radio down and continued working. Once completed, he marked the ticket and logged it into the computer so the desk staff could call the owner. He pulled out an oiled rag from his back pocket, wiping his hands as he journeyed down to the first floor of the bay. Like a parking garage, all the cars had to be driven up to the second floor via the ramp he was now walking down. The large bay doors on the first floor were the only way into the motor pool from the outside. They were kept closed and locked unless the staff was bringing a vehicle in or out.
Cayden stepped out into the hot July sun through the open bay door. He saw Terrance standing with a clipboard, talking to the driver who was still in the car. The white Ghost with the distinctiveRRon the front was waiting patiently. No matter if he thought the reputation of these vehicles was overrated, she still deserved his full attention.
Cayden stopped in his tracks as the driver got out, and he felt his heart plummet. “Bucky?”
The ginger man in question was short and stocky. He’d always worn large clothing to try to hide that he wasn’t muscular or tall. Cayden had known him since he was a thirteen-year-old punk living on the streets after his parents had kicked him out for being gay. While Cayden made it clear he didn’t swing that way, Bucky had always followed him around with wide doe-eyes. Loving the attention, Cayden had shown Bucky everything he knew.
Seven years later, it couldn’t be a coincidence that he was standing in the bay entry with a Rolls Royce.
Bucky had grown while Cayden had been away. Mind, he certainly wasn’t tall, but he’d filled out more. His bright red hairhung around his ears, whereas he’d always worn it long before. And he now had a Black Python prospect cut over his shoulders.
“Hey, man!” Even his voice had deepened. Cayden felt torn between wanting to learn everything he’d missed in Bucky’s life and telling the man to leave. Cayden couldn’t have someone, even one with a clean record, from his old life messing up his new one. Not even Bucky. “Treads said you were working here. I didn’t believe him. Had to come see it for myself.”
Bucky closed the door of the Royce and walked towards him. Terrance and his clipboard stood there shocked. Bucky held out his hand to Cayden.
Cayden though didn’t accept it. “You can’t be here.”
Bucky’s smile fell. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play this?”
Cayden crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not playing anything, Buck. I’m out. I’m done with that life. Take your ride and go.”
Bucky looked as if Cayden had slapped him, but he couldn’t allow his old affection for the young man to weigh on him.Nothingcould risk his parole. He needed to be free. He needed Trixie.
“Man, don’t tell me you’ve gone straight. Nah, not the great Boost.”
Cayden’s eyes flicked to Terrance. Bucky wasn’t keeping his voice down, and there was no way Terrance couldn’t hear him. He’d worry about that later.
“Bucky, you can’t be here. That car can’t be here.”
Rather than be deterred though, Bucky looked intrigued. “What are you running here?” His eyes flashed to the large building and the number of exotics exposed by the open bay door. “When Treads said you were working Romero’s, I knew you had to be pulling something big. Last job big.” His eyes glowed with excitement. “I want in, man.”
“There is nothing going on here, nothing big, and no last job,” Cayden defended. Of course, saying it out loud just made it sound like Cayden was protecting his score. Damn it. “And even if there was, you showing up like this and announcing yourself is just plain stupid. I taught you better than that. A Royce, really? Could you try to grab anything flashier?”
Bucky grinned widely. “I wanted to impress you. I know how you like your rides pristine.”
Cayden grabbed Bucky’s arm and dragged him back to the driver’s door. “Bucky, this is your one and only warning. Leave and don’t come back. Terrance, call the cops. Make sure you take a picture of the license plate for them too.”
Bucky snorted at his order. “The cops? Fuck, man, you really have gone to the Dark Side.”
Lowering his voice so only Bucky could hear, Cayden said, “Get in the fucking car and leave. This is your last chance. And you remind Carver that I’m out and done.”
“You tell Carver yourself,” Bucky snapped. “I’m not your bitch anymore.”
“No, you’re a grown-ass man still looking for your master’s approval.” Cayden knew the words would cut deep. Bucky was often the butt of the club brother’s jokes, calling him Cayden’s bitch. Of course, given Bucky’s open sexuality, there was more than one innuendo whenever the topic came up. Cayden had never cared about Bucky’s preferences. They’d always had a brotherly relationship. “Grow up, Buck. Take responsibility for yourself. Running with Carver will only get you killed or behind bars.” Not wanting to leave their years of friendship on such a sour note, Cayden added, “Only come back here if you’re willing to go straight. I’m out of that life, and I’m never going back. Not even for you.”
The sound of approaching sirens drew their attention.
