Cycleman: Why did you leave your job?
Charly: Company folded.
I paused, then made a decision. I needed someone, and Charly needed a job. He seemed like an okay kid. A little mouthy, but we could work on that.
Cycleman: The hours are long, and I expect you to work hard.
Charly: Hard work doesn’t bother me. You said board was included?
Cycleman: Yes.
Charly: Does the door lock?
That seemed a strange question, but I supposed a valid one.
Cycleman: Yes.
Charly: Okay.
Cycleman: You will have to drive to get groceries and pick up supplies.
Charly: Heavy lifting?
Cycleman: Is that a problem?
Charly: Yes, I have a disc problem.
I paused. I didn’t want some idiot I was going to have to baby.
Cycleman: Okay, we can work around that.
Charly: Where are you located?
Cycleman: Outside of Lomand. A small town.
Charly: Lomand is a small town.
Cycleman: This one is even smaller. Not much around.
Charly: No problem.
I sat back and studied the screen. He seemed like a decent guy. He asked fairly intelligent questions and his profile had a good ranking. He’d never given anyone a problem, and the people he’d connected with had scored him high on ratings.
Cycleman: Are you interested? Pay is $1000/month plus board. One-month trial.
I waited a few moments as the screen remained blank, then the reply appeared. I was prepared to go a little higher but waited to see his reaction.
Charly: When do I start?
I glanced at the calendar on the wall. It was Wednesday. I was booked solid tomorrow and Friday.
Cycleman: Are you driving here?
Charly: Bus. Coming from Toronto.
I scratched my chin. Toronto was about three hours from here. Far enough away, they probably had no connections to anyone here. That was a plus.
Cycleman: But do you drive? Stick a problem?
Charly: No problem. I can drive standard. Having a car in Toronto is too expensive.
That made sense. I checked the bus schedule then replied.
Cycleman: I looked at the schedule. There’s a bus that gets you here at ten Saturday. You get off at Littleburn. It’s the stop after Lomand. Tell the driver to let you out, or he’ll just go past it.
Charly: Okay.
Cycleman: I will be waiting by the general store.
Charly: Okay. See you then.
He signed off.
I sat back, feeling pleased. Having a guy made the accommodations decision easier. If it had been a woman, I was worried I might have to give them a room in the house, but I really didn’t want to. The space at the back of the garage wasn’t much, but it was private, had a comfortable enough bed and a decent bathroom. There was even a chair and a TV and a small storage area. The kid could use the fridge here in the office to store cold drinks if he wanted. He could keep some snacks around, although I would have to warn him about mice. Leaving unsealed food around was a written invitation for the little buggers. Even in the house, I kept stuff in sealed containers.
I stood and stretched, calling for Rufus. He appeared from the back, his tongue already out and his tail wagging. It was dinnertime, and he knew it.
I locked up and headed back to the house, wondering what frozen entrée I would heat up tonight. The kid said he could cook well enough. I hoped that meant it was better than mine.
I regarded the contents of the freezer and threw another tasteless meal into the microwave.
It certainly couldn’t be worse.
Chapter 4
CHARLYNN
I stared at the computer screen, not really believing what I had just done. Taken a job I had mocked the other night. Hired by a stranger to basically be a maid and go-fer.
He seemed very straightforward, asking the basic questions. I supposed that came with age. He didn’t care about my background or anything, only that I filled the requirements and could do the job.
I shut the laptop, pushing it away. This was not how I’d planned my life to be. I shut my eyes, refusing to cry. It was only temporary. My dad always said you had to make do with what you were given. I had a chance at a job. It would get me out of this apartment, and I could save money. I would work hard and show this Cycleman what I was made of. Once I’d saved enough, I could come back to Toronto and find another job. If it was terrible, at least I’d have a thousand bucks in my pocket and be somewhere other than here. I loved working as an assistant in a fast-paced office. I was great at organizing, details, and keeping people in line. I had a talent for websites and social media. I could handle multiple tasks at once, I never lost my cool, and I rocked the sassy assistant look. I got along well with coworkers and my superiors.
I was certain I would get along fine with Cycleman.
As long as he got over the fact that I was a woman and not a guy. Once I showed him what I could do, he’d adjust. I had always been good at charming older people.
Curious, I grabbed my laptop and googled garages in the Littleburn area. Four came up, and I examined the information I could find. They all looked reasonably okay. One of them specialized in motorcycles and restorations, and they were the only one with a website, but it was very outdated. There were some pictures of bikes that had been restored, and I studied them carefully. They were all well done. My dad loved motorcycles and had worked around them his whole life. He’d had a small shop, which was where I spent my summers until I was old enough to know I preferred dresses to jumpsuits and makeup to grease. Still, I answered the phones and did invoicing and ordering for him in the summers to help defer the cost of hiring someone. When my brother died, my dad’s enthusiasm for the shop, and for life, died with him, and he sold it.
I shook off those memories and looked at the computer again. I was at least honest with Cycleman about that. I could name engine parts and knew how to do an oil change or switch out a tire, but I was better acquainted with the workings of an office.
I had no idea which of the shops it was I was now going to be working for. One picture caught my eye of an older man, standing beside a Harley, obviously ill at ease in front of the camera. He scowled at the lens, and behind him, the shop was chaotic and messy. I had a feeling that was the one. It certainly looked as if he needed help. I peered at the grainy picture. If that was Cycleman, he didn’t look mean, just a bit grumpy.
I could work with that.
A sudden thought occurred to me, and I pulled up the bus information, found the bus Cycleman had mentioned, then swallowed when I looked at a one-way fare.
It was forty-two dollars. I now had twenty-one dollars in my purse. It was all I had. I would have to borrow the money from Kelly. She was the only one I could ask. It wasn’t much, so I had a chance at least. I shot her off a text, asking where she was. Her reply made me groan.
Kelly: Had a chance to fly to Jamaica for a shoot. Back in a week! You okay?
Kelly was an assistant to a photographer. The pay was terrible but the fringe benefits great for her, plus she was learning a ton. If she was out of town, I couldn’t borrow from her. She was a little leery of online banking and did everything in cash. I sent back a fast reply, not wanting to upset her.