Page 20 of Kings Don't Break

“Beats the hell outta me. But it has a nice ring to it, don’t it?”

I shake my head to keep him laughing and move on to visit the other stations around the garage.

This time of year is a slow season for the Chop Shop, meaning we don’t have as much business or as many customers coming in.

It’s made it easier filling Velma’s shoes, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be permanent. For as big of a lying, backstabbing, fucked up traitor as Velma was, she was damn good at managing the bike shop. She ran a tight ship and kept everything in order.

While I might be the shop owner (along with Silver), I’m not cut out for the day-to-day managerial bullshit. I’m better with my hands. Better at fixing and riding bikes. Managerial office work has never been my thing.

“Shit,” I say from inside the bike shop office. I check the time and then grab the stack of invoices. “Chaz, did anybody ever head over to One Stop Autoshop to grab the lithium ion battery for Daryl Weaver’s Nightster? He’s picking up first thing tomorrow.”

“Nah… didn’t you say you’d do that today? Oh, crap. One Stop closes in thirty.”

“I fucking know that!”

I rush out the door before I’ve barely finished my sentence. Daryl Weaver just might be our biggest customer. He’s competing in a national ride competition and needs his bike in prime shape before he departs. I’d promised him myself we’d have it ready to rock.

I dash across the parking lot and opt for my pickup truck rather than my bike since I’ll be transporting merchandise.

The One Stop Autoshop is the only place within a fifty mile radius that has the exact brand of battery he requested.

No more than fifteen minutes later, am I screeching on the brakes and hopping out the driver’s side door to make it inside the One Stop Autoshop.

Shaking back my golden hair from my face, I stride into the shop, prepared to charm the female clerk at the desk.

Instead I’m confronted with a different woman who’s ahead of me in line.

Korine’s filling out paperwork as she explains to the clerk what’s wrong with her car.

“If you could fix it for two hundred that would be greatly appreciated. I’d like to pay cash.”

“Ma’am, it’s going to come out to at least six hundred?—”

“Please, it’s all that I can afford,” Korine interrupts, then as if sensing a third presence, she looks up. Her eyes meet mine and for a second time within twenty-four hours, we’re at a standstill. “Blake… what are you doing here?”

I tilt my head to the side. “I could say the same thing to you.”

5

BLAKE

“You here to fix that Geo?” I ask. “I doubt they’ll be able to do it for that amount, Kori. You know that better than anybody. The way that engine was looking, it needs a lot of work. If you bring it by the Chop Shop, we’ll take care of it free of charge?—”

“I have to go,” she mutters.

The paperwork at the counter remains unfinished. The same can be said for the transaction with the clerk at the desk. Korine’s busy pocketing her wallet in the same quick motion that she pulls out her keys. She flees from the Autoshop lobby like she’s in imminent danger.

“Kori, what the hell’s up with you? Why are you—KORI!”

I rush after her, but it’s not as easy as it should be. Korine’s always been a quick one. When we were kids, she’d race the boys around the block, often winning. It wasn’t ’til puberty hit that that changed, but by then she’d moved onto showing them up in other ways.

Fixing bikes better than they could. Outgunning ’em in the back road drag races we sometimes had. Generally being cooler and funnier than they were.

And they knew it.

Korine was always the girl all the guys didn’t mind having around. She was one of the guys.

…except so much better.