Kristen Ashley - Motorcycle Man

Um, it seemed to me a domestic situation was brewing. It also seemed I was due a coffee break, which I decided to take immediately and take it somewhere that was not there.

I rose from my chair, muttering, “I’ll just –”

Naomi’s eyes sliced to me. “Yeah, get your ass outta here, bitch.”

That was when Tack let me go and he did this before he stood, turning to face her so he was standing between her and me. I didn’t know him very well and he’d been scary around me, very scary. But even though I had his back and I might not know him very well, no one could miss the vibes emanating from him and those vibes were so beyond scary it was not funny. They were so beyond scary I found myself holding my breath.

“Do not,” he said softly, in a voice that seemed to slither through the room in a sinister way, “speak to Tyra like that. Do you fuckin’ hear me?”

My body locked when he said my name but my eyeballs swiveled to Naomi who was shockingly completely immune to the scary vibes sparking menacingly in the room.

“I’ll talk to your latest piece of ass however the fuck I want, dickhead.”

At that, Tack moved and I could swear I was watching but he went so fast, I wasn’t certain what I saw. One second they were facing off, the next the bright Denver sunshine came in through the door and the next that door was closed and both Tack and Naomi were on the other side of it.

Even so, I heard their continued conversation starting with Tack warning, “Do not test me.”

“Fuck you,” was Naomi’s rejoinder.

“You came here to say somethin’, say it and get the fuck gone.”

“Kiss my ass!”

“Fuckin’ hell. Clue in, bitch, I’m done with this shit. I was done with it years ago. You got two seconds to say what you gotta say then I’m walkin’ away.” There was silence for two seconds then Tack again, “I’m walkin’ away.”

That was when Naomi said quickly, “I want her job.”

My eyes locked on the door.

Ohmigod, she wanted my job. Holy crap!

“Say again?” Tack demanded as I aimed my behind to the chair and sat in it.

“I got canned from my other job. Pipe’s outta work. I need to get somethin’ quick-like. I heard Eloise was leavin’ and I want her job.”

“Position’s filled, Naomi, and even if it wasn’t, no way your ass would be in Tyra’s chair.”

“I did that job for twelve years, Tack, no one knows it better than me,” she stated, giving me history that made me bite my lip.

“I’ll repeat, position’s filled,” Tack returned.

“Then unfill it,” she shot back. “You want your kids fed, you’ll sort shit out.”

“You got money problems, woman, Rush and Tabby got rooms at my house and I got food in the cupboards. They’re more than welcome to move in with me.”

“The kids aren’t movin’ in with you.”

“They are, you can’t feed ‘em, Pipe don’t get off his fat ass and you don’t stop actin’ like a bitch and gettin’ your ass fired from job after job.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” she snapped.

“In your twisted head, it’s never your fault but it always is.”

“I came here askin’ for help and this is what I get,” she returned.

“You came here and started shoutin’, like usual, actin’ like a bitch, like usual, so yeah, this is what you get,” Tack replied.

“You know I can do that job and you also know I won’t suck your cock as part of my job description like Tyra in there will so you’re bein’ a dick even when it’s your kids who’ll suffer.”

“Naomi, I asked you to suck my cock, you’d have your mouth wrapped around it so fast, you’d break the sound barrier.”

“As usual, right up your own ass, Tack.”

“Jesus, honest to God, seriously? You need a favor, you drive here and give me shit and think you’re gonna get it? What’s the matter with you?”

“It took a lot for me to come here, Tack. And I walk into my office and have a flashback seein’ as you like to play around, you always liked to play around and you’re still fuckin’ playin’ around!”

Oh boy.

“Christ, you are fucked up. Still singin’ that song?” Tack asked.

“Still lyin’ to me that you didn’t fuck everything that moved when you had my gold band on your finger?” she retorted.

“Twisted, totally twisted,” Tack muttered and finished with, “We’re done.”

“We are so not done.”

“We’re done, ” Tack stated and I knew he meant it because suddenly he was in the office, the door was closed behind him and he locked it. Then his long legs took him across the office to the door to the garage and he locked that one too, all the while Naomi pounded on the front door shouting, “Open this goddamn door, motherfucker! We’re not done!”

Tack ignored this and walked to the window that faced the forecourt and with a rough, angry jerk he closed the blinds.

Then he turned to me.

That scene was so nasty, so intense and so unlike anything I’d ever seen or heard before

I couldn’t fight it back so I stared up at his angry face while biting my lip.

“You all right?” he, for some reason, asked me.

“Uh…” I answered because I could say no more but the answer was, no. I was not all right. Tack’s ex-wife was a bitch, she wanted my job, he had two kids and he may or may not have fucked around on his wife. None of this I wanted to know but all of it was bouncing around in my brain in a way that I knew, no matter how studiously I did it, I wasn’t going to be able to avoid thinking about it.

“My ex is a bitch,” he stated the obvious.

“Um…” I replied, still unable to utter more.

“Your job is safe,” he informed me.

“Uh… okay,” I whispered, uncertain if I was happy about this fact or not.

That was when Tack shared even more stuff I did not want to know.

“She’s got this in her head, she’ll probably be back and she’ll probably do other shit to fuck with your head,” he told me. I stared up at him as my heart started beating harder and he went on, “She does, you tell me immediately. I’m not here, you phone me. Got that?”

“Um… okay.” I was still whispering.

“Give me your cell,” he ordered and, not thinking, wondering how that crazy woman was going to “fuck with my head”, I grabbed my cell from the desk and stretched my arm out toward him. He took two steps to me, slid my phone from my fingers, flipped it open, his thumb started moving over the number pad and I heard beeping.

“Uh… Tack?” I called.

“Yeah?” he asked, head bent to my phone, my phone still beeping.

“How will she… erm, fuck with me?”

He flipped my phone shut, tossed it on the desk and then he was bent to me, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, bunching my hair and his face was an inch from mine.

“Don’t matter. Whatever she does, I’ll deal with it. You won’t. Got that?”

“But –”

“She calls, you hang up. She shows, you walk the fuck outta here, take your phone, go to my room in the Compound, lock yourself in and call me. Yeah?”

None of that sounded good except for the part about me calling him and him dealing with it. Therefore, I whispered, “Yeah.”

“Don’t be scared, Red. She’s a bitch but she’s stupid and I got your back.”

“Uh… okay,” I said yet again, not liking him having to have my back and now seriously wondering if I wanted to continue with employment at Ride Custom Cars and Bikes but for different reasons. Then I stared into his eyes, decided to change the subject and whispered, “You know my name.”

His face softened in a way I’d never seen before but I liked a lot. Too much. Way too much to be conducive to healthy, functional employer/employee relations and he replied quietly, “Yeah, baby.”