Dead Men Motorcycle Club Read Free Page A

the dark windows to see if they offered any waxing services. I heard the low rumble a few seconds before I saw him and turned to look. He came rolling down main street , headed in the direction of the garage. His bike was a glorious steed of chrome and leather. He was dressed all in black, right up to the old style helmet he wore, which left his face exposed. I only caught sight of him for a moment before he was behind me. As he got smaller and smaller, moving down the street away from me, I saw the large white patch that adorned his vest. 'Dead Men' was stitched out in black against the white of the patches themselves. I barely had time to contemplate his presence on that idyllic early morning street, before he pushed the bike forward and I lost track of him by sight, if not by sound. The echoing rumble of his bike became smaller and smaller before disappearing over the horizon.
    I checked the clock on my phone and found that I had to be getting to the garage. The last thing I wanted was to show up late on my first day. I was going to have a hard enough time impressing these bikers without having tardiness be my first impression to them. I returned to my car and drove down the street towards the garage. I saw the way people on the street had stared at the bike as it went past. If a lone biker could cause that much of a stir on a Wednesday morning, I wondered if the story of the woman mecha nic would be better or worse when everyone found out what I was here for.
    I arrived at the garage with ten minutes to go before my scheduled time of arrival. I grabbed my purse and took a series of long, deep breaths in an attempt to stay calm.
    "Just remember," I told myself, "You're good at this and, no matter what happens, you can take it."
    I convinced myself well enough and was soon standing outside my car and stepping towards the business office. It was time to find out just what I was made of.
     

Chapter 2
     
     
    I parked my car in the same spot on the street where I'd put it the day before. I gave myself a quick look in the mirror, just to make sure nothing was too out of place. This was a garage I was heading into, not a debutante ball. I certainly wasn't wearing any makeup and my hair had been dried by the sun. I took one last deep breath and stepped out of the car.
    I was halfway across the lot, walking towards the business office, when Karen came out and greeted me. She seemed to be all smiles this morning, and I was glad for it. I couldn't imagine starting a new job in a new town when my boss was already angry. That seemed like a recipe for disaster. Karen waved at me and when she got close, she looked me up and down. I noticed that the line of motorcycles that had been outside the office yesterday were conspicuously absent this morning. Wherever the Dead Men were, it wasn't here at the garage.
    "'Morning, Emma," she said brightly. "I've got a bunch of legal paperwork for you to fill out, but we can take care of that another time. Why don't you head into the garage? Zach is in there and I told him to expect you. I've got to go across town to yell at the bank for a while, but I'll be back to check up on you around lunchtime."
    I thanked her and turned for the garage. I was glad to not have to deal with paperwork first thing, but I could read between the lines. Karen didn't want to bother with any formalities until I'd seen what the garage and my co-workers were like. I was sure that she half expected me to take off and try my fortunes elsewhere. I didn't fault her for that. I had told her that I grew up around engines, but whether she believed me or not, she was probably unsure of my ability to handle a rough crowd. After all, even if I'd been alright at my Dad's garage, it was still my Dad's garage. That thought took hold in my mind as I walked. I hadn't really considered the possibility that maybe I couldn't handle anything these guys could dish out. I was certainly picked on, but back home I'd always had Dad watching out