CHAPTER21
Bright and early, I head on over to the garage. I do ride my bike over.
Max comes out from the back and inspects it. “Not bad,” he says. “But I don’t know if it’s good enough.”
“Understood.”
"You want to get good enough to paint bikes? You listen to me. Save up. Buy some paint. Go to the junkyard. Paint the bikes there. Practice. You get to the point that you think I'll change my mind, I'll come out and look 'em over. You start to get good at it, and you can go ahead and offer it for whatever price you want, and all of the monies will go to your pocket."
“Seriously?”
Max nods. “How that sound?”
“Man, I might have to stop calling you geezer.”
“Yeah, I might ‘reciate that.”
I giggle.
But I’m not laughing an hour later. Max’s taking a call, and a guy comes to drop off his Mercedes.
“I don’t want you working on my car,” he says, his nose held up high.
“Of course, sir,” I say politely even though inwardly, I’m seething.
“You have to understand that this car is my pride and joy.”
“Yes, of course, sir.”
“I don’t want some chick fucking it up.”
“You don’t have to worry. This chick won’t even touch it. Do you think you can pull it into that spot over there next to the truck?”
“Who the fuck do I look like? I’m not valet,” he snaps.
“Yes, but you don’t want me to touch it—”
The guy grimaces and shakes his head. “You know what? I don’t know if this garage is the right place for my car.”
"If you think you can get better quality service elsewhere, go for it, but let me assure you that no one cares about cars more than Max does, but sure. Go somewhere else, where it's a big ole sausage fest."
“Fuck you. I’m going to do just that.” The guy climbs into his car and drives off just as Max comes out.
“What was that about?” he asks, watching the car speed off. “What a sweet fucking ride.”
“I’m sorry. I pissed off the guy.”
“How so?” Max asks, narrowing his eyes.
“I have boobs and a—”
He holds up his hands. “Don’t want to hear it.”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t want me to touch his car. I told him you could handle it all, but he didn’t want to hear it, not after I asked him to put his car in a certain spot. I thought he wouldn’t want me to drive it, but it was blocking the entrance, and…”
Max says nothing.
I hang my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”