Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
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 One of them specialized in motorcycles and restorations, and they were the only one with a website, but it was very outdated.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.
Charlynn: Found a job, things looking up. It’s out of town—will be in touch when settled.
All I got back was a smiley face, so I knew she was busy. I sighed, wondering how I was going to get the rest of the money for the bus fare. I wondered about sending Cycleman a message and asking him to forward me a little cash, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t like that, so I decided to use that as my last resort. I was about to get up when I saw it again. The shadows of feet outside my door. The handle turning slowly.