CHAPTER FOUR

-:- ROCK -:-

It’s Monday morning and back to the daily grind at Hot Hogs. I’m sure it’s going to be a busy week. We all agreed to give the jobs a push to allow Mikala’s hog to be brought in next Monday.

I think everyone is excited to meet Mikala and see her hog, which she seemed to have an attachment to, and we all understand that because if anyone touched our girls we’d rip their arms off.

Walking into my office at Hot Hogs, I sit behind my desk and check the mail that Krylon has more than likely brought through. He’s always the first to open up. No matter what is going on, he’s here early and ready to get started.

Opening the mail and seeing more of the asshole companies touting for our business, I throw them next to the shredder because, to me, that’s all they are worth. If I wanted something I’d find it, and I sure wouldn’t hire anyone sending crap through the mail, emails or messages through the website.

Picking up my phone where I’d laid it on the desk, I make the call to Mikala Mitchell.

“Hello,” Mikala greets.

“Morning, Mikala, this is Rock speaking from Hot Hogs and Cages.”

A high-pitched squeal has me moving the phone from my ear. Jeez, this girl can scream as I rub my ear and hope she hasn’t burst my eardrum.

“Oh, I’m so excited. Can you fit in Lucy-Loo? That’s my hog, by the way,” Mikala is gushing, giggling like a six-year-old, and I’ve gotta say this is more than a little surprising.

I have to chuckle because I can hear Mikala shouting to someone that it’s Rock about Lucy-Loo…I mean really, calling a Harley Davidson Lucy-Loo!

“Yes, we can fit your hog in if you can get her to us next Monday. It has to be here by 8:00 am, mind you. We’ve given it a two-week window, but we think more like eight days if we find nothing detrimental when we strip her down. The paint job could be our only stumbling block. I don’t want to take on something elaborate and then sell it short by having to rush it”

“I’m so excited and I will definitely have my girl with you on Monday morning. It may not be me. It may be one of my security team, but if it is, then she’ll be on a bike trailer, and if she’s not on a trailer, let me know, please. Nobody rides my girl but me. Don’t worry about the paint job I described, that was more of a spur of the moment thing. As long as she stands out, I’ll trust to your judgement.”

Mikala’s concern for her hog is more than obvious, and she sounds more than a little fierce when speaking of anyone riding her hog.

“You realize one of us will have to start her up and ride her for a few minutes to make sure she’s running smoothly, and as she should be?” I question, because if that’s not okay, then we can’t do the bike.

“No, that is fine, Rock. I understand that you need to make sure she’s running as she should. But whoever gets on her better take care of her.”

“We would be careful, and we understand how possessive we can all be with our hogs. If anyone touched mine, I’d rip their arms off and feed them to the fucker.” Shit, my attitude came out and not sure that was professional. The husky laughter on the other end ensures I can take a sigh of relief, as it’s obvious she is not upset with my comment.

“I might write a song with that attitude, Rock. I’d have to credit you for it, mind you.” Husky giggling again hits my ears, and I can’t help the smirk that crosses my face.

“You do that, Mikala. My pleasure.”

“Okay, I’ll get Lucy-Loo to you Monday morning. Take care now.”

Placing my phone back on the table, I rub my neck while thinking about a fucking song about my attitude of ripping arms off. Fuck me!

Walking through to the rest area, which we named to be different from the normal breakroom. It’s also not to be confused with a restroom. I grab a coffee from the machine and head out to reception, where I’m surprised to see Bren working on the computer system.

“Morning, Bren, you’re here early.”

“Morning, Rock. Yes, I wanted to finish cleaning up the system. Honestly, you all are a disgrace.” Bren has a smirk on her face while she is saying it, which cuts the sting of her words.

“Yeah, we probably are,” chuckling more to myself than to Bren. “I wanted to speak to you because I mentioned in church yesterday that you were doing quite a few hours here during the month, and you’ve also been cleaning. We are paying you directly for the hours you work here from now on. TwoCents is clearing that with Heather and Alf. We’d like you to work several hours a week on the system, keeping us organized, keeping the place clean too. If you are happy to do that, Bren, we’d appreciate it.”

“Okay, I can do that. I have a few hours during the week that I don’t work, so I can fit you in during that time. Usually Thursday afternoons I have clear, so I could do that day from lunch to closing?”

Nodding my head in agreement, “Yeah, that suits me. But if you need more hours, tell me, and we’ll pay you the extra in your salary. We do not want you working for free Bren, that’s not how it’s gonna be.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you informed of the hours I work.”

Passing Bren, I walk outside and lean on the wall against the front door, continuing to drink the coffee which is lukewarm now at best. Ten minutes pass and I look up when I hear, “Hi.”

I give a smile to the young girl who is walking with the redhead. “Hi, you having a good day?” I ask, wanting to take a good look at Red if I can.

“Yes. We’ve been to the doctor.”

“Oh! Are you okay?” I ask the girl, and she gives me a shy smile.

“Yes. I broke my arm, and it was still hurting.” She holds it up for me to look at.

Squatting down, I take the little girl in from head to toe and back again. I hold my hand out for her to shake, giving her the chance to feel like a big girl. “My name’s, Rock. What’s yours?”

“Jessica, and this is my Auntie Destiny.”

Shaking her hand gently, I stand and hold my hand out to Red, and as she takes it to shake she blushes, which I ignore as I don’t want her to be even more embarrassed than she is.

“Rock…Oh, hi Destiny, you okay?” Fist blurts as he steps out of the front door of the shop. “Give me five, Jess.”

Jessica high-fives this fucker, and Destiny, or Red as she’ll probably always be to me, blushes again. “We are fine. Thanks for asking, but we have to go. I have to get some work done.”

I watch as they both quickly walk away. I wave back to Jessica when she turns around and gives me a huge smile and wave. Turning to look at Fist I quirk an eyebrow.

“You need to come and look at this paint Rock, that fuckin’ supplier is an asshole. I’m sure that is not the color we ordered.” Fist storms back inside before I can grill him for information on Red and Jessica.

After looking at the paint that the supplier has sent through, I’m more than fucked off with what he has supplied. He has sent none of the colors I asked for. Yeah, they are near to it, but they are not what I ordered.

Stomping into the rest area, I drop my mug in the sink and head back to the office. Bren is humming as she mops the floor outside my office and I wait for her to finish. When she looks up, she frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“More fuckin’ problems to sort out,” I snap. Then feel bad because it’s not Bren’s fault. “Sorry, Bren. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“What’s wrong? Can I help?”

“Not unless you can speak to this idiot supplier who keeps sending us the wrong colors we order.”

“Oh, I can do that. Give me the details.”

Looking at Bren, I can see she’s serious, so I shrug, walk into the office, and give her the order invoice and the colors we received, rather than the colors on the order itself.

Nodding to herself, Bren smiles. “I can sort this out, Rock.”

Walking away with the order and information in her hand, Bren makes her way to the reception area, where she pulls up the order system on the computer and makes the call.

Shrugging, I head into my office and leave the door open so I can hear Bren’s side of the conversation with the supplier. Searching for paint suppliers via my cell shows that we are not short of options if we decide to order elsewhere.

Bren’s conversation is not going well, by the sound of it. She keeps repeating order numbers from the invoice, and telling whoever she’s speaking to that they are not what was on the delivery.

“We don’t order the paint we require, and then wait for you to deliver the color you have nearest to it. That doesn’t work for us or our clients. We order what we require to suit our clients' needs, not to suit what you have in stock at the time. If you can’t supply what we order, then we can source our paint supplies from someone who can.”

I can see where this is heading. Someone is trying to palm us off with old stock and that’s not happening. Before I can do anything, Bren solves the recent delivery issue.

“Look, enough of this bullshit you’re trying to feed me. The paint you’ve sent relating to this order will be returned. The purchase order will be canceled and we’ll go elsewhere in the future.” Bren shouts through to me, “Erm, Rock. I’ve sorted the delivery issue but may have caused you a bigger one.”

“It’s okay, Bren. I heard, and you did the right thing. I’m sure there are paint suppliers out there that run their business better than they do, and actually want our business. We spend a lot of green on paint and someone will be more than happy to take us as customers.”

Hearing bikes out front ends the discussion and I know I’ll have to chase a new supplier later.

Walking out of the office, I hear TwoCents and Drag greeting Bren in the reception area. They are here to look over the building next door before we make any kind of offer on it.

An SUV pulls up in the parking area next door. What has to be the realtor for the sale gets out while looking around. She has the most ridiculous high heels on, not only for driving but for walking around a commercial building. If her realtor abilities match her dress sense, we could get this for a song.

“Hi guys. I’m sorry but I don’t have long. I have a penthouse to show a client as soon as I can be done here. Do you mind if we do this quickly?”

Looking at TwoCents and Drag, I see that they have the same idea as me. Taking the keys that the woman is keen to hand over, I open the door and walk in. Reaching for the light switch, it clicks on and off, but there’s no power. The main door is a roller door and has a hand pulley as well as being electric.

Drag opens the door and light starts to flood in. The place is filthy and smells of dust. It hasn’t seen daylight in a long time, but at least there’s no smell of damp. There’s a small office on one side and a dirty-looking toilet in the far corner. The rest of the space is wide open.

In the middle of the floor there are two vehicles covered with old dust covers. TwoCents moves towards them as if he’s going to pull the covers off, but I step in quickly and divert his attention to the lack of any shelving, cabinets or other worktops. I don’t want any of us to see what’s under the covers until we have the realtor out of the way.

“This place is not only gonna cost a fortune to clean and repaint, we’re going to have to dispose of these old vehicles and refurbish the office and toilet. It’s in a worse condition than I was expecting,” I give the woman a serious look, and can see her squirm a little.

Drag picks up on the vibes I’m throwing, and he quickly points out the lack of any utilities currently available. Flushing the toilet results in the handle coming away in his hand, and obviously there is no water in the cistern.

“We could be looking at new plumbing and new wiring on top of the cleaning. We might have to have a full survey completed by an engineer before we even consider making an offer,” I snap at the woman.

TwoCents catches on and immediately starts throwing out some big numbers for quotes on engineers, cleaning, re-painting, etc.

This has the realtor squirming as she looks from us to her watch and back again. “Maybe I can get the seller to dispose of the vehicles and do a bit of a clean-up and you can have a second viewing?” She sounds desperate by this point.

Rubbing my chin with a finger and thumb, I give the place another look over and then shake my head. “I’m not convinced this is the best place for us, however, its location is obviously a selling point. If we agree on a sale here and now, we’ll need the titles of the vehicles and any other property currently on site. We don’t want to be arguing about stuff later when we’ve got the place cleared out and looking good. How does that sound?”

‘ High heels ’ is almost dancing with excitement. “As soon as I have finished with the penthouse viewing, I’ll be back with all the details I can, and you gentleman can put your offer to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must hurry to make my next appointment.”

All three of us watch as she hobbles to the SUV and leaves us standing there waving the building's keys at her, which she evidently is happy to be rid of. TwoCents and Drag head off to the clubhouse to report back to Axel.

Returning to the reception area I see Krylon speaking with a guy I’ve not met before. “Rock, I’ve brought Steve to meet you. This is the guy I thought would make a good sprayer for the business. Steve, this is Rock. He’s the boss here.”

Looking Steve up and down, he looks a little underfed, but he is presentable and clean. He has a backpack with him. I was worried I was going to be seeing some street kid that needed a good bath, but I suppose being ‘Mall Security’, he would need to be decent.

“We’re not going to be dating, you know. I’m just going to work here, if you’re ok with what you see, that is?” Steve smirks.

“Smart ass, huh? Let’s see if you can do an impromptu piece of art that may get you the job.” I take Krylon and Steve to the wall of the paint booth. It only takes a few minutes to clear the area, and put a few dust covers down on the floor.

“That’s your blank canvas. Show me what you’re made of. You have one hour to impress the hell outta me,” giving him a smirk.

Looking around the shop, Steve seems to take in everything about the place and everything available for him to work with. Walking around the bays, he picks up several tools and accessories, as well as some pots of paint from the booth.

“You can’t paint the tools and stuff. They belong to individuals, not the business.” Krylon looks worried that this could derail Steve’s idea, but he soon calms when Steve tells him they are just for inspiration. Taking hold of a paint can, he takes off the lid and throws the paint at the wall. Not what I was expecting! Taking other cans, he repeats the process. Reaching into his backpack, he pulls out a few paintbrushes.

I have to admit I’m surprised by what I’m seeing. I’ve always thought of graffiti and spray cans going hand-in-hand, so to speak. Paint cans and brushes? Not so graffiti…

Watching him work his magic reminds me of street artists, and the ones you see on talent shows. They paint a picture that you see is very good and of a recognizable character, then all of a sudden they spin it upside down and it’s a perfect portrait of some other celebrity.

Thirty minutes and he’s done. On the wall in front of me is a fair representation of a workshop, though in the abstract. There are tools, bike parts, vehicle panels, and even a representation of the Harley Davidson badge. I’m impressed, but not ready to admit it. Looking at Krylon, I can see he is just as impressed as I am. Raising his eyebrows at me, I nod back.

“One thing, Steve.” Taking the brush from him, I walk to the edge of the wall and in the lowest corner, I write ‘Splash’. “That’s your name while you’re working at Hot Hogs and Cages.”

Grinning back at me, he states, “I can live with that.”

Bren walks through and looks at the wall, head on one side. Slowly tipping her head to the other side she smiles. Clapping her hands gently, she says, “Nice work. I like that. Oh, Rock, don’t forget we need a new paint supplier as quick as you can. Today's delivery is going back so we need that order replaced by another supplier damn quick. I’m off now. See you later.”

Krylon looks at me as though I have two heads. “Fuck, Rock. We needed some of that paint for Mikala’s bike on Monday.”

“It was no good, Krylon. None of the stuff they sent was a correct match for what you asked me to order. They were pulling a fast one by clearing out old stock of paints that were ‘close but no cigar’. I doubt they were even a decent quality. I’ll start calling around and see how soon I can get a new delivery.”

“If you have the invoice for what you wanted, I could call my go-to gal for paint?” Splash asks while wiping his hands on a rag from his backpack. “She’s never let me down and if she hasn’t got the paint in stock, she has the know-how and equipment to mix it for you. She even does pearl if you need it ready-mixed. If the order’s not too big, I could have it here tomorrow, for a first-time cash customer, okay?”

Slapping Splash’s shoulder I grin, “Yeah, see what you can do, but get it here pronto. I’ll give you the colors we need. Get the cost and I’ll give you the cash. You start here tomorrow at 8:00, you do whatever you are told, whenever you are told, oh and get rid of the ‘Mall’ job, you don’t need it.”

Maybe today hasn’t been a bad day after all, I think to myself.