Dead Men Motorcycle Club Read Free Page B

for me and the guys knew better than to really mess with their boss's daughter.
    It was too late to worry about that now, and there was no turning back. I pushed open the metal door that led into the garage proper and stepped inside. The sounds of work were already ringing off the walls, even at this early hour. I could see down the line that there was an old Ford up on the lift, and closer to me was a Jeep. A pair of legs sprouted from underneath the Jeep, clad in brown boots and oil-stained jeans.
    I walked up to the legs and gave them a soft nudge with my foot. The man they belonged to scooted out on a dolly from underneath the Jeep, his eyes narrowing to adjust to the light, trying to see who it was that had disturbed his work. He was older - maybe 50 - and his hair was grey and thinned. I wouldn't say it was thinning because that would imply that it was a work in process. This man was weather-beaten and looked like he had both feet firmly over the hill.
    Without getting up from the dolly, he said, "You Emma?"
    I nodded to him. "Yeah," I responded, "You must be Zach. Karen told me to come find you."
    "Alright, well, why don't you bring that Toyota out on the lot inside and change the oil. The key's over on the wall. Rest of the crew should get in soon," he said. Then he pushed himself back under the Jeep without waiting for a response.
    I let out a small sigh. An oil change? I felt like I was Michelangelo being asked to paint a fence. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself with how much I thought of my mechanical abilities, but still. If I was going to be doing oil changes, how would these guys ever see what I was really capable of? There was nothing I could do about it, though. I walked over a cluttered desk that was covered in junk. Above it was a peg board. I found the Toyota key easy enough and headed out to the lot to find my first small project.
    I backed the car into the garage, taking the nearest open bay, between the Jeep and the Ford. From the walls I gathered a handful of tools and a dolly and got to work. I slid myself under the engine and felt relieved at the view. When you're working on a car, the rest of the world goes mute. You can't see or hear anyone else's problems and there's just you and the engine. I was happy to get back to it after too long spent out of work.
    As I was draining the oil from the car, I heard a group of people enter the garage. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but there sounded like a few of them in the group. This must be the rest of the crew that Zach had mentioned. I didn't really have any inkling as to how many people worked here, but from the size of the place, it could be a lot. I didn't bother going out to meet them, expecting that we'd cross paths soon enough. Besides, I knew what would be happening out there right now. Zach was undoubtedly telling them about the cute girl with her hands in the Toyota in bay four. They'd be making rude comments, I was sure. Half would be about my presumed lack of skill as a mechanic, and the other half about what they'd like to do to me if given a chance. This was to be expected. I knew that if I was going to find a place here, I'd have to prove myself. First impressions would be hard, but unavoidable.
    A few minutes later, I looked down along my body and saw a group of feet standing nearby. I could hear the sound of voices speaking softly, but they were trying not to be heard. Every once in a while, I'd hear someone laugh loudly at some unknown joke - probably at my expense.I wondered how long it would be before someone got brave enough to call me out to be mocked in person.
    It wasn't long. Just as I'd tapped Zach on entering the garage, one of them stepped forward and gave me a slightly rougher nudge with his boot. I readied myself for what was to come and pushed out from beneath the car, wiping my hands with a rag.
    There were three of them there, each wearing grey striped overalls. Mechanics are easy to spot on a bad day, but these