JC

Nez Motors wasn't much bigger than my garage at home, housed in a building that seemed empty except for this space. It was packed with bikes and bike parts and tools and lifts and manuals. The more I looked around, the more I realized Tori was serious about her trade.

One look at my bike and I prayed she knew what she was doing.

The right side was scratched all to hell- the mirrors had been broken off, the handlebars were bent, parts and pieces were missing. In general, she was a long way from the pristine condition that she'd been in the days before.

Tori seemed amused by my reaction, watching me circle the bike again and again with my hands on top of my head, or over my mouth, taking in the scene.

"This is funny to you, isn't it?" I asked her, trying to keep the edge of irritation out of my voice.

"A little. It's probably not as bad as you think it is."

My head popped up in surprise. "Probably?" I tipped my head and tried to take in the scene again. "It looks pretty bad."

"Well, the first step is to figure out the damage. Let's assess, shall we?"

I thought I was going to have to help lift the bike. With my cracked rib, I didn't see that happening but she moved around me to roll a contraption across the room. "This is a hydraulic lift. Help me hook it up so we can set it upright and see what we're looking at."

I helped loop some cables and levers around the frame of the bike and stood back. Tori flipped a switch and a loud grinding noise came from the machine. And then, slowly, the bike began to lift until it was standing upright and I could put the kickstand down.

"We'll leave it hooked up," she said, setting the power supply down.  "I can work around the cables." She gave the bike a close inspection, inch by inch it seemed, muttering to herself the entire time.

Finally, she straightened. "Okay. It's not pretty, but it's not as ugly as it could be."  She grabbed a thin metal rod to point with. "I can tell you dropped the bike on the right. Not because of all the scratches, but because all the missing parts are on this side. This-" She tapped a ragged piece of metal. "Is your rear brake. It's toast. Your foot peg and your engine cover are also gone. Aside from that, you need replacement mirrors and some welding. I can soften up the metal and try to knock the kinks out of these bent rods."

She stepped back, folding her arms across her chest. "It'll take some work. You definitely can't ride it without repair, but it's not like it needs to be rebuilt."

I felt an immense sense of relief at that statement. The bike could be fixed, at least. I hadn't sunk a ton of money into it and then totaled it on my first ride.

"Question now is... what do you want to do? Do you want to ship it to your guy in LA? Do you want it fixed here so you can ride it home? Do you want it fixed so you can ship it home?"

"Well..." I shrugged, a little sheepish at the moment. "I don't really have a guy. I assumed you would fix it."

I caught the flash of a smile before she turned around and headed toward a counter that served as a desk, of sorts. "Of course, I'd be happy to. I'll need to order parts. I can get them here in a few days."

I groaned. Days.

"Okay..." She rolled her eyes, leaning onto the counter. "Since you're in a hurry, I can order them overnight. But it'll cost you."

"It's already costing me," I muttered, casting an eye around the shop. "You have a lot of bikes here. Do you have time to fix it?"

"Oh those?" She nodded toward the collection of motorcycles. "I'm not fixing those. Those are part of a special project Nasaan and I are working on. His sweet sixteen present, you might say. You're my only job right now, so yes, I have time."

"Your only job? Aren't you the only mechanic in town?"

Tori shook her head, then answered softly, "No. I'm not. I'm the best. But I'm not the only one."

I started to press for more information but thought better of it. If she wanted me to know more, she'd tell me more. For now, I needed my bike fixed.

"Well, whatever you need to fix the bike, and whatever you charge for the repair, I'll pay it. Money isn't a problem."

I felt horrible the second that sentence fell from my mouth. Even worse when her gaze dropped to the floor for a few seconds. "Uhm... Okay. I'll order parts today, then. You'll need to prepay for them.  This is a vintage bike and the parts will be pricey. I can't afford to pay for them upfront. Is that a problem?"

I shook my head, afraid to open my mouth before another thoughtless comment rolled out of it. Instead, I reached for the leather duffel bag that was still strapped to the back of the bike, zipped it open and pulled out my wallet. I handed her a credit card.

She took it, glanced at it, flipped it over and back again.

"You've never seen an AmEx card before?"

She scowled, her brows knit together on her forehead and lips pursed. "Of course I've seen an AmEx before. I've never seen an AmEx Black before."

"Is that... oh,  the fees. I didn't even think about that. I can use another card-" I flipped open my wallet again, feeling a bright red blush crawl up my neck and take over my face.  

"It's fine, JC. If this is the card you want to use, it's fine."

"Are you sure? I can use my Visa, or-"

"It's fine," she snapped, reaching under the counter to bring up a laptop. She flipped up the lid and punched a few buttons. "Billing address?"

I recited the address and listened as she tapped more buttons. When she finished, she handed the card back to me.  "Job's open. No turning back now."

...

I lounged in a beat up office chair, swiveling back and forth and flipping through copies of Cycle World, Hog Magazine and Dirt Rider.

"Do you actually read these?"

Tori looked up, her face mostly concealed by a large pair of clear plastic goggles. In one hand, she held a welding torch. In the other, a mirror.

"I thumb through them," she answered with a shrug. "They're more for entertainment and hobby riders than mechanics and collectors."

"So people like me?"

She smiled without confirming, but I knew a dig when I heard one. "I get them for Nasaan. He reads them like there's a test on the material. Wish he paid attention to his algebra book like that."

She went back to work, igniting the flame on the torch. "He's always loved any kind of motorized bike. Dirt bike, motorcycle, moped. He was never a BMX or ten speed kind of kid."

"Seems like that runs in the family."

She smiled. "It does, but he doesn't get it from me. I ride a bit and I love putting bikes back together. But this shop was my father's brain child. I was hoping to keep it going until Nasaan was old enough to decide if he wanted to take it over, but..."

She sighed, her smile fading. The hiss from the torch quieted and the flame blew out. "Dammit. Out of propane."

"How long has your dad been gone?"

"Nine years," she answered. I watched as she skillfully switched the nozzle on the torch from one tank to another, then flipped the switch. She was rewarded with a strong blue flame and a loud hiss. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. My father isn't dead."

"Oh. I thought... uh..."

"He met some woman online. She was a peach. She came out here with her nose in the air, looking down at all of us. At the house my grandfather built. At the shop my dad poured his life into, built with his own two hands."

She pulled the goggles down on her face.  Her brown eyes seemed distant, radiating the hurt she was talking about. "At me. At my sister and my son. She convinced him that they'd have a happier life together in Nashville."

"Let me guess. He gets out there and it falls apart."

"Ding. Ding. He gave up everything that was important to him. For her. We tried to tell him, but the male ego is an idiot. I think he was too embarrassed to admit she was a mistake."

"Wow. That's like a modern day country song."

"I thought he might actually come back, but then he met someone else and married her. They have a nice place, lots of land. Horses and whatever. Nasaan has been out there twice. Don't think we'll see him back out here any time soon."

"And in the meantime, you're struggling out here in the desert. Does he know?"

She glanced up from her work. "Not exactly. He knows business is down. He doesn't know how bad things are. And I don't intend for him to know. He gave me the shop when he left. It's my responsibility."

"That envelope you yelled at me about?  Was that about this place?"

She nodded, but then tipped up a finger. "But it's not what you think. This building used to be full of businesses, including Nez Motors. Over the years, they've all moved out to different buildings, different towns. Closed down. We're the last one standing. The owner wants to sell the building and he doesn't think it'll sell with the shop still here. I have to move out. Or buy the building if I want to stay."

"Since I'm your only job right now, I guess buying the building isn't a possibility."

The torch clicked when she flipped the switch. The blue flame disappeared and the hiss went away. "Two for two. The problem is that I don't have any place to go. And even if I had someplace to go, I can't afford to move..."  

She lifted her head, her eyes roaming the shop from one end to the other. "Well. All of this."

"And not enough idiots crash their vintage bikes around here to keep you above water."

"Three for three. You're smart for a pretty boy from LA."

I chuckled, flipping through another magazine. "Just wait until I'm well rested and I have some gel in my hair."

"So... last night you called your friends? In Taos? Are they worried about you?"

"Worried? No. Ready to roast me over crashing this bike? Yeah."

She straightened long enough to let out a bark of laughter. "JC, I'm ready to roast you over crashing this bike. You're not a seasoned rider, are you?"

I shook my head. "Not really. I ride around town, you know. In good weather. But it's more of a thing I do on Saturday because I'm bored. Not a lifestyle. But I saw this bike in an ad and had to have it."

"I see why." She nodded appreciatively at the machine, still held up by cables. "It's just that... a bike like this requires a lot of knowledge. More care and maintenance. It's not a hobby machine, it's an investment. And it's heavy as fuck. I'm surprised you didn't break more than a rib in that accident."

"Yeah. I hear you. And I definitely have more respect for it than I did before."

"To tell you the truth, it makes me nervous to let Nasaan ride the Harley we're revamping for his birthday."

"You're giving him a Harley?"

"Not giving. He's inheriting." She removed her gloves and set them on the counter. I watched as she walked to a corner of the room and pulled a large blue tarp off of a bike. I stood- mostly out of awe, but to move closer and get a good look.

"This is the bike that started everything," she said, running a hand across the handlebars of a black and chrome Harley Davidson. It was about the size of a sport bike, but with much more power. "It's a Knucklehead. Vintage, of course. Fitting, since it's for my knucklehead. It belonged to my grandfather, then my dad. We've been switching out rusted parts, replacing them with new parts from other bikes. Updating, refurbishing, but still trying to stay true to the spirit of the bike. He's dying to ride it."

"I'd be dying to ride it, too. It's nice. Really nice."

"I know." She spread the tarp over the bike again, taking great care to smooth it out. "He can't even sit on that seat without a motorcycle safety class, appropriate gear and a license. He's been working the past few years, saving money. Mowing lawns, shoveling snow, hauling junk."

"Hard working kid."

"Mmhmmm. When he wants something, he knows how to work. Thing is..."

She picked up her key ring and nodded toward the door. We were leaving, I guessed. I grabbed my duffel bag and followed her out.

"I'm just not sure if I really want Nasaan to take over the shop. And... well, I kind of want him to have the chance to get out of here. Go anywhere he wants to go."

She pulled the door shut behind us and locked up the shop. Then we trudged through dirt crusted, packed down snow to her truck and climbed in. She started it up, turning up the heat before pulling out of the driveway and onto the road.

"You're talking about college?"

"Yeah. Or...maybe he wants to go out to Nashville with his grandfather. Or... out to Atlanta with his father. He's got a lot of opportunities available to him. I don't want to tie him down by insisting he take over the shop."

"So... his dad is..."

"Alive. They talk here and there. He pays support. But he's not involved with raising Nasaan." Again, it seemed like something she didn't want to talk about, so I let it go.

"What would you do with yourself if you had to close the shop?"

"Probably work at the hospital." She giggled at the look of surprise I must have shot her. "I have a nursing license I don't use but I keep updated. Promised my dad I'd always have something to fall back on. Every once in a while, I work a shift, but Nez Motors is where I belong."

"Well, you're probably better at patient care than Kaya. Pretty sure she tried to kill me."

"I believe you, and I wasn't even there."

She turned the corner, ready to pull into the driveway, but her space was occupied by a police cruiser. "Damnit. I didn't want to deal with Eloise today."

We both sighed. And then laughed. And climbed out of the truck, slamming doors and stomping through the snow.  The kitchen door opened before Tori could even reach for the knob, revealing Kaya standing in the opening in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, holding a mug of coffee.

On her face? A wide... kind of scary grin.  "I am so glad you two are back. Eloise has something... interesting to share with us."

"Oh?" Tori dropped her keys on the counter and shrugged out of her jacket, hanging it on the back of a chair. Sheriff Eloise was sitting at the kitchen table, her large hands wrapped around a mug. An open laptop sat in front of her. "What's the interesting news about?"

"Uh, is the coffee fresh?" I pointed toward the pot. Kaya nodded and didn't move to pour me a cup, so I helped myself.

"Funny you should show up right now. The interesting news is about your house guest."

Tori glanced at me, a lick of fear in her eyes. But the giggle that Kaya wasn't trying very hard to suppress gave me a hint of what they'd figured out. I heaved a long, loud breath and slouched in my chair, sipping coffee.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

Hell. It was going to be a long stay in Cloudcroft.