Big Jim closed Leo’s fingers around the money.
“Club pays debts.”
Leo’s throat tightened.
Big Jim lowered his voice.
“You take care of your mother.”
Leo looked at him.
“How did you know?”
“You announced it to three hundred people.”
A few bikers laughed.
Leo gave an embarrassed half smile.
Then the trailer arrived.
Two prospects guided it into the yard behind a pickup.
They approached the restored Harley carefully.
Leo’s smile disappeared.
This part hurt.
More than he thought money could soften.
He watched straps go around the motorcycle.
Watched the front wheel settle into the trailer cradle.
One of the men asked him how he wanted the frame supported so the repaired section would not be stressed.
Leo told him.
They listened.
That mattered.
Big Jim watched the process too.
Then he whistled.
Bobby Chains disappeared outside.
A minute later, the sound of another motorcycle came through the gate.
Bobby rode slowly while guiding a second bike beside him.
2004 Harley-Davidson Sportster 1200.
Chipped paint.
Dull chrome.
Stock exhaust.
Used seat.
But complete.
Leo stared.
Bobby stopped.
Set the stand.
Tossed the keys lightly.
Leo caught them.
“What?”
Big Jim nodded toward the Sportster.
“Clean title.”
Leo looked from the keys to the motorcycle.
“For what?”
“For you.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I’m fourteen.”
“You got four years to make it beautiful.”
Frank shouted from the office, “He is not riding that on public roads.”
Big Jim called back, “Who asked you?”
“I’m his employer.”
“You pay him five dollars an hour.”
Frank froze.
Leo slowly turned toward Frank.
Big Jim raised an eyebrow.
“Five?”
Frank spread his hands.
“He gets free parts.”
Every biker in earshot looked at him.
Frank muttered something and disappeared inside the office.
Leo touched the Sportster’s handlebar.
“It runs?”
“Mostly.”
“That means no.”
“It means sometimes.”
Leo crouched.
Looked at the carburetor.
Bobby said, “Needs work.”
Leo smiled.
“Good.”
Big Jim studied him.
“When you turn eighteen, if you still want to wrench for a living, go to San Bernardino.”
Leo looked up.
“Why?”
“Ask around the Berdoo shop.”
“For what?”
“Work.”
Leo’s expression changed.
Big Jim clarified.
“Mechanical work, kid.”
A few men laughed.
“You’ve got talent.”
Leo looked at the Sportster.
“I don’t have training.”
“You figured out Dutch’s engine under a tarp.”
“That’s not certification.”
“No.”
Big Jim nodded.
“So get certified.”
The sentence surprised Leo.
“Finish school.”
Leo blinked.
“Seriously?”
“You think engines stopped using math?”
“No.”
“You think shops don’t need people who can read?”
“No.”
“Then don’t be stupid.”
Leo looked at Frank.
Frank folded his arms from the office doorway.
“Been telling him that.”