Full Frame
4
My Boyfriend’s Back
“Patricia” by solominviktor, ID272632880 licensed from Shutterstock.com
GOD! IS THERE ANYTHING more perverted than a sixteen-year-old boy? I doubt it. After dinner, I headed straight for my room and started processing the film I’d shot of Judy and Janice. Yeah. Before I did anything else. As soon as it was dry, I cut it into strips and laid them out on a sheet of photo paper. I made a contact print and waited impatiently for it to dry while I went to take a shower. I considered taking care of my cock in the shower, but Kat was already banging at the door to get in for her nighttime routine.
I went back to my room and used a loupe to examine the contact sheet. Oh, yeah. I chose two shots to print enlargements of and headed back into the darkroom. Man, it was hot in there. It had been ninety degrees out today and having my windows open didn’t help keep my room cool. I’d need another shower by the time I finished developing the enlargements. I finally had them out of the fixative and in the bathroom to rinse. Everyone else was in bed now and I knew I was rushing the process a little, so I made sure to get the prints well rinsed.
I took my towel into my bedroom and shut the door tightly, then laid the damp prints out on the towel to really look at. One of the prints I chose was of the two girls floating side-by-side on their backs. I was going to enjoy printing the one of them on their stomachs, too. They had nice little butts sticking up out of the water. But for tonight, I wanted the front image. Perfect. There were two nice sets of titties pointing at the sky, hard nipples tenting the fabric of their swimming suits. I swear that I could see the complete outline and difference in shading of Janice’s whole areola and nipple. Judy’s were puffier, but her suit was more opaque. The suits of both girls clung to their crotches like a second skin; I could even see the slight texture change where their pubic hair was matted under the fabric. And Janice’s navel, filled with water. I could just imagine drinking from it.
The other print was of the two girls standing, facing a quarter to their right. This picture was great for showing the shape of their breasts and how they stuck out from their chests. I just wanted to touch those titties. Instead, I was looking at the two photos as I stroked my cock. I imagined what it would have been like to be in the pool with them. Holding Janice. Sliding my hands inside her top.
My first come hit me in the chin. I was careful not to get any on the prints. But one come wasn’t enough. There were two girls and I switched my focus to Judy. I remembered how she’d given me permission to look at her nipples while we sat looking at the prints. At least I took it as permission. I sure looked. I thought first about sliding my hands through the cutouts on the side of her suit and moving up to feel the hard points of her nipples in my hands. Then I’d move down and play with her hidden navel. But my goal was farther down yet. I imagined pushing her suit away as my fingers reached her short hairs and found the soft little cleft there.
My second come was just as powerful as the first. I laid the two prints on my desk to finish drying and used my towel to wipe up the globs of come from my chest and hands and the floor. Then I went to bed and stroked off another one, just so I could get to sleep.
One of the things Mr. Harris taught me was to keep a log of what I printed and the parameters I used. The enlarger has almost as many settings as my camera, even though it’s old and a lot simpler than some newer ones. It slid up and down on a pole that would change how much of the negative was exposed to the paper. The higher up the pole, the bigger the image was. Once I got the part of the image I wanted, I had to focus the lens. Then there were various filters I could use to limit the range of light being exposed. And I had to control the length of time for the exposure. The bigger the enlargement—that is the farther away the negative was—the longer it had to be exposed because the light would diffuse as it got farther away. I was looking forward to the day when I could get an enlarger with f/stops to work with, but right now, this was about all I could handle.
I had several mattes as well that blocked light from a part of the paper. I used those to crop to standard sizes, like 8x10 or 5x7. Laying the film directly on the paper and exposing it to the light made a series of little images the same size as the frames on the film. I did that for proofs so I didn’t have to make a print of every picture on the roll in order to decide which one to enlarge.
In the clear light of non-horniness in the morning, I examined my two prints more critically. There was nothing ‘wrong’ with them and they were probably about the same quality as I’d get if I dropped the film at a photo processor and picked up the prints a few days later. But I could see right away that there were things I could do to improve the prints. It was a sloppy cropping job for one thing. The girls’ heads were slightly trimmed off and there was a lot of grass beneath their feet. Well, obviously, the part of the image I was most interested in was between those two, but I’d never just enlarge their breasts so that was all that was in the image. I don’t think. Maybe. They needed to be exposed a little longer, and…
These weren’t show-quality prints. But they were really only going to be for my personal enjoyment anyway. If I were going to caption them, it would probably be something like ‘fantasy at play.’ I needed to work on getting sexy photos like these that told more of a story rather than looking like backyard snaps. Which is what they were. I carefully put them in one of my folios, along with the printing info and slid the negatives into sleeves that I dated and noted the subject. Then I headed out for my day-job: motorcycle refinisher.
I was working in the garage on Friday afternoon, running the disk sander over the roughest spots on the frame, when I became aware of someone else in the garage. I shut off the sander and looked up. Patricia was standing in the doorway watching me. I took off my goggles and mask to greet her.
“Hi. What brings you around?” I asked.
“Boredom. Thought I’d stop by and see how the job was going. That way, I can pretend to be checking up on my boyfriend’s wheels and looking out for his best interests,” she said, coming on into the garage to look more closely at what I’d been working on.
“You can pretend all that? While really doing what? It looks like you’re checking up on things,” I laughed.
“Well, I am. But I thought if I hung around for a while, you might get your camera out. I told you I was okay with you taking pictures.”
“That would be cool, too. Want a glass of water? I was just about to go get one. You can take a good look at the work while I get it. I’ll pick up my camera, too,” I said.
“Sure. Okay.”
She busied herself running her fingers over the frame while I went in the house. I wasn’t gone long, but when I got back to the garage, she wasn’t there. I set the water on the workbench and my camera on a shelf. Then I saw that my bike was missing.
A minute later, she came skidding into the drive and brought the bike back into the garage where it had been.
“I love pumping up on that bike. It would be better if the seat was a little lower, though.”
“Well, next time you ask to ride it, I’ll adjust the seat for you,” I laughed. “If you just take off on it, you’ll have to suffer with it at my height.” I was only a scratch under six feet and was wishing my body would hurry up and grow that other half inch. Patricia was probably about five-three.
“For me?” she asked, pointing at a glass of water.
“Yeah. This hot weather in a hot garage really gets me thirsty.” I took my glass and she shoved a couple of things aside on the workbench. Then she hopped up and sat on it to take a drink. “That’s a good one,” I said as I grabbed my camera. She posed and preened as she sat on the workbench and I got a couple of cool shots. I had a work light on and it really caught her in bright light on one side and fading into shadow on the other.
“Just a minute,” she said.
She set her water glass down and started unbuttoning her shirt. Wow! I caught a picture of that, too. She was wearing a kind of sleeveless chambray and a pair of cutoffs. As she opened her shirt, I was treated to her bikini clad breasts. So nice!
“I said you could take a picture in my bikini. Isn’t that better?”
“It’s great,” I said.
I started thinking about ways to have her pose that would give me a great view of what she was showing. I quickly cleared the rest of the stuff from the workbench.
“How about putting your feet up on the bench and leaning back on one arm while you look at me?”
“Like this?” she asked, following my instructions. It was good. I moved my work light a little and it really highlighted the shape of her breasts. I took a picture. She picked up her water glass and started rubbing it across her shoulders as she threw her head back. Oh, boy. The longed-for nipple pop. They were pushing out against the fabric and she looked like a calendar girl.
I think it was an accident when she spilled some of the ice water on her top. She started and then giggled.
“Just makes you look sexier,” I said. She made a face, winking at me as she stretched and thrust her chest out further. I don’t think there was even a lining in that top. Her nipple was so clear I thought I could see it right through the fabric.
“Let me get really sexy,” she said. She sat up and unfastened her shorts I got a shot of her pulling the zipper down. Then she pulled them off and was sitting on the bench in the bikini bottoms as well as the top. They were shorter than I thought at the river. Her cheeks were showing.
She was a natural model, crawling around on the bench and striking various poses as I shot the film.
“Here. How about this?” she said, hopping off the bench. She grabbed my goggles and put them on so they were perched on her head. Then she took the sander and approached the bike. Bent over a little so she could pretend to sand the frame, I could see down the middle of her top. I reached out to her and she looked up at me.
“Um… I just want… your strap…”
“Just do it, idiot,” she smirked.
I touched her shoulder and pulled the strap of her bikini down so it was off her shoulder. Nothing more than that. I mean, maybe it exposed a little more of the top of her breast, but the effect of it looking like her top just slipped as she was sanding was great.
“Wait. Give me my water,” she said.
I thought she wanted a drink. Instead, she poured the rest of her water down her front and bent over the frame again. The effect of the water dripping off the slope of her breast looked like she was sweating. The fabric clinging to her. Then there was the shape of her butt as she bent over. Wow! I clicked the last shot on the roll and just took a moment to look at her. Having the camera out from between us gave me a new appreciation for what I was seeing. A pretty girl in a wet bikini was in my shop about three feet away from me. She saw me put the camera down and straightened up, pulling the goggles off, and setting down the sander. She grabbed her shorts and pulled them on.
“So, is there anything I can actually do to help?” she asked. I pulled myself back to reality. This was Tony’s girlfriend, not mine.
“You really want to help? Sure. The tank is ready for handwork with ultra-fine sandpaper. You can work on that if you want.”
“That way, when I give Tony my picture, I can tell him what I did to help.”
“You’re going to give him the picture?” I asked.
“Yeah. Choose a good one. I want him to think of me working on his bike every time he looks at it.”
“I can do that.”
We went to work. I noticed that she didn’t put her shirt back on and never got around to fastening and zipping her shorts. They just kind of hung there like a promise. I could have taken pictures of her all afternoon.
There was a big difference between taking pictures of Patricia and taking pictures of Judy and Janice. Patricia was a natural model. She worked the poses as I took pictures and often came up with ideas for little adjustments that made them work. I could set a scene and she went from there with the poses. Judy and Janice got into whatever position I directed them to and held it pretty steady, but they weren’t involved in the creativity part of it. I wished I could spend a few days just photographing Patricia.
That wasn’t the only time she came over to work on the bike. We didn’t have an all-out photo session each time she came over, but I did get a few nice pictures of her in different work clothes. And it turned out she was a big help, especially when it came to the polishing of the metal so it was ready for paint. I couldn’t strip the entire bike unless I took it to Chicago and had it dipped. That would cost a fortune I didn’t have and Tony wouldn’t pay for. But we made sure everything was feathered in, the filler was smooth where I applied it, and it was ready for primer.
Dad got the engine tuned about the same time I started spraying the frame. I hung visqueen around my work area to cut down on spatter where it wasn’t wanted, but Dad warned me to make sure Mom’s car was at the end of the driveway before I started spraying. Even the primer made the bike look good. By Friday, I was ready to spray the finish coat.
“When’s Tony going to be back?” I asked Patricia Friday afternoon. “I half expected to see him here this afternoon.”
“When they left, they said they’d be back Sunday. You don’t know Tony’s parents, though,” she said.
“What’s that mean?”
“Well, better if Tony tells you, but basically his mom and dad and little sister and him were kind of like gypsies. Until Tony got here in ninth grade, they’d all lived in the back of a station wagon. They’d drive around for a while until they found a place where his dad could get work for a while, then they’d pack up and drive someplace else. When they lit here, they got some news that made them settle down. They live in a trailer on one of the farms just outside of town now.”
“Wow! That’s a tough life.”
“Yeah. He had a reputation before he ever moved to town. Anyway, when his parents say road trip and announce they’ll be gone for two weeks, it could be a month if something interests them.”
“What’s his dad do for a living now?”
“Construction. I guess he’s like one of the top finish carpenters in the area. So, this summer, there’s a big building development going on this side of Huntertown. When he gets back, there will be a bunch of houses ready for finish work and cabinetry inside.”
“That’s cool. A guy with real skill.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she said. “From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t own a tape measure or any power tools. He built a garage for the farmer where he’s got his trailer parked. Ordered the lumber, staked out the foundation, and just started building. Mr. Packard has had a lot of people out to look at his garage. It’s perfect. All square, exactly the right size for his two cars, and finished tight. And Mr. Kowalski never once measured anything. He’d just grab a board, saw it to the length he wanted, and nail it in place.”
“That’s wicked!”
“I think you’re a lot like him. Probably why Tony likes you.”
“How do you mean?”
“How many bicycles have you refinished and painted?”
“Just that one,” I said.
“And yet, when Tony asked if you could refinish his motorcycle, you didn’t even hesitate. You just said sure and went about doing it. I haven’t seen any big books of instructions lying around. You just got the things you needed and did it.”
“Well, my dad is pretty good at a lot of things. He gave me some pretty good instructions.”
“Yeah. Well, I want to go for a ride. Will you adjust your bicycle seat for me? I’ll probably be back by the time you finish spraying. I don’t want to be around here before that. It stinks,” Patricia said, wheeling my bike over.
I laughed and got her up on the pedals while I used my wrenches to loosen the post and move the seat down to a better level for her. I had the rear wheel between my legs and Patricia’s butt almost in my hands and face as I tightened down the nuts.
“Okay. You’re ready to roll. I’ll see you later,” I said. She wiggled her butt a little on the seat in front of me and took off.
I needed to concentrate on painting.
I finished painting over the weekend and started reassembling the bike with Dad’s help. I needed him to hook up the engine and drive chain. I wasn’t into anything that could be considered mechanical. I was strictly a body worker.
And I hadn’t had nearly enough time to work on some of the bodies I’d seen. I don’t mean motorcycles. I had two rolls of unprocessed film of work on the bike and Patricia posing. Judy and Janice had stopped by one afternoon to see why I hadn’t asked them to pose somewhere and I told them it would have to wait until I finished my project. They immediately wanted to know if I’d take them for a ride on the motorcycle and I explained it wasn’t mine. Everybody had such a weird reaction to any mention of Tony’s name that I didn’t say whose bike it was.
I did manage to make a change in the house. Mom was not about to use the antique laundry area downstairs for her laundry, preferring to take it and Kat to the laundromat to wash and dry and fold the clothes. Usually, my part of the laundry was ironing, but with summer, there were only a couple pairs of shorts and two of Kat’s tops to press. Everything else was T-shirts and work clothes that didn’t get ironed. Mom said I was going to have to start babysitting the laundry on Saturdays this fall. It was weird ironing one of her clerical shirts for the first time.
Anyway, I took the Shop-Vac to the basement and did my best to vacuum out all the dirt and cobwebs. Then I did a minor conversion of the little room into a darkroom. The enlarger was on a couple of boards stretched over the top of the old wringer washer. I found a small table that was big enough for me to put my developing trays on and stretched a couple of lines across the room to dry prints on. There was a laundry sink in the room and I verified that at least it didn’t leak, so I could rinse my prints right there. Of course, the trouble light with a red bulb got hooked on a nail in the wall and plugged in behind the washer.
The problem was I just didn’t have the energy to use the setup after working all day on the motorcycle. And I was only able to work there late at night. There was a small window that I blacked out with visqueen, but the light leaked all around the basement door. I needed to be sure the lights were out in the kitchen before I tried to do anything in the darkroom.
So, I waited until I was rested enough to work in the middle of the night when I could turn the kitchen lights off.
Once the bike was all assembled, I painted the gold trim and Tony’s initials.
“It looks great!” Patricia said.
“We should do a set of pictures with you on the bike,” I said. “Like a biker calendar or something.”
“Yeah!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “I’ll be back in half an hour. I need to change clothes.”
That was sudden. I went in the house, cleaned myself up, and loaded the camera. She was back in almost exactly half an hour, wearing her leather jacket and a pair of skin-tight jeans with black boots. Not exactly the sexy image I had in mind, but what the hell. Before we started, she looked up the drive toward the street and closed the garage door. Well, I could understand that. We were pretty wide open now with the plastic sheets for spraying down and the bike sitting in the middle of things. It was a clear view from the street. She’d never struck me as self-conscious about being seen before, but I shrugged it off.
I tried using my work lights in a couple of different positions to cast shadows where I wanted them and to highlight what I wanted highlighted. The bike should be clear in the photos. No one would look at anything but Patricia, but Tony would want a good picture of his bike with his girlfriend on it.
We got started with a few basic poses, then the jacket came off. Holy shit! She’d said a different bikini, but this didn’t look like swimwear. It was more like underwear. In fact, the more I looked at it, the more I decided it was just a bra. A really thin one. Really. When I shone the lights on her, I could clearly see her nipples through the fabric. I was going to need a personal enlargement of this one.
“Help me get my boots off,” she commanded, hopping up on the work bench. I went over and unlaced the heavy duty biker boots and pulled them off her feet.
Oh, dear God! She pulled her jeans off and a pair of panties that matched the bra came into view. These were a lot skimpier than bikini bottoms and mostly just as see-through as the bra.
“What do you think?” she asked, a little nervously.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to show this photo to anyone,” I said.
“Yeah. This one is just for Tony,” she said. “Um… if you happen to have a secret copy stashed away, I’m sure no one will know.”
“Uh… I don’t have an airbrush,” I said. Nor did I know how to use one, but I knew professional photographers used one to touch up unwanted areas of a photo. “You, um… might want to um… do a little tucking.” I nodded toward her panties where I could see several dark blonde pubic hairs sticking out from under the fabric.
“Damn it. I’m a hairy bitch, aren’t I?” She just started pulling the panties aside and pushing the hair in before working on the other side. I just watched. “There. Is that okay?” she asked. She faced me with her legs slightly spread and I verified that the hair was all tucked inside.
We did half a dozen new poses with her on the bike in just her underwear. I ran out of film.
“I’ve got another outfit,” she said. “Do you have more film?”
“Yeah. I’ve got another roll.” I rewound the cartridge and popped the back of my camera open to change it out. I nearly dropped the camera when I looked up.
She’d pulled off her bra and was pulling on a shirt. Boobs! I was staring at my very first pair of bare breasts. I felt a little faint and thought I might come in my pants. She pulled the shirt on, seeming not to notice me staring, and just tied it loosely under her breasts. Then she pulled out a really short pair of cutoffs that showed her butt ledge and tucked tightly up between her legs. The crotch was barely wide enough to cover her panties. She grabbed a straw hat off Mom’s gardening supplies and shoved it on her head.
Then we started a series of really dynamite poses. There was one when she was on the bike, where she leaned forward and grabbed the handle bars, looking up at me. I focused really carefully this time and snapped the picture. I could see her nipple in the gap of her shirt. I had her shift slightly so the gap closed and shot another one. I didn’t think I’d be showing anyone the picture I’d just taken of Patricia’s right nipple.
Finally, we were used up. I mean the film was. Patricia pulled off the short shorts and pulled her jeans back on, shoving the spare clothes into her gym bag. She pulled her leather jacket on over the shirt, not bothering to put her bra back on.
“You know, Nate, I think I’d better just give Tony one of me in that last outfit on the bike. I hope there’s a good one. The um… others… where I was in the… you know… bikini. Maybe we’d better save those for another time. You won’t show them to anyone else, will you?”
“No. I’ll keep them our secret. When you decide you want to share one, I’ll print it then.”
“You’re great, Nate,” she said punching me lightly on the arm.
I opened the garage door and watched her leave. Then I turned back to the bike. It really looked great. I was worried about it, though. A little over a year ago, someone broke the lock on our garage and took my bicycle. I had a heavy duty laminated cable lock for it, but the bike was in our garage so, of course, I didn’t put the lock on it.
I figured this year, I’d be using it on my bicycle when I rode to school. For now, though, I looked on the shelf where I’d put it when I found it while unpacking and snapped it securely on the wheel of the motorcycle. There wasn’t even a lock on the garage door here. I’d sleep better, knowing the motorcycle was safely locked up.
I finally had a couple of free days and I spent them sleeping so I could work in my darkroom at night. I had a backlog of pictures I wanted to print. When I examined the contact sheet of pictures I took of Patricia, there were definitely pictures that I wouldn’t be sharing with anyone. I’d be making a couple of nice prints for my collection, though. Seeing the picture that showed her nipple through the gap in her shirt gave me an instant hard-on.
I selected a really nice one with her stretched out on the bike with Tony’s initials kind of tucked behind her knee. Really showed the nice shape of her legs and made that tied top look like she was really stacked. I printed an 8x10 of it.
“I looked like this? Really? This does look like I could be on a biker bitch calendar. Tony is going to love this!”
“I’m glad you like it,” I laughed.
“You don’t know the half of it. When I get out of school, I plan to apply to Playboy to become a bunny. This picture will be in my portfolio!” she said.
She took off immediately to find a frame for it.
I had other pictures I wanted to print, but I was running low on paper, so I had to be really selective. I was hoping that maybe after Tony paid me, I could talk Dad into a trip to Chicago so I could visit Camera Warehouse. Half of what I got from Tony was going to Dad anyway because he fronted all the costs for sandpaper and paint. I had a bill all tabulated and typed up. I’d taken a typing class at school in Chicago, so I wasn’t too bad at using Mom’s typewriter. I was pretty pleased.
I had a catalog from Camera Warehouse, and I spent some time that evening marking the pages of supplies I needed and tabulating how much they would cost. I supposed I could just call Levi and order over the phone, but I didn’t think you were supposed to send cash through the mail. Maybe I could just get Dad to write a check and give him the money.
I spent the next day out just taking more pictures. I rode back out to the river and took some shots of the bridge. There were a couple of people out in the water playing, but I didn’t really focus on them.
It was Saturday afternoon when Tony stormed in and gave me a shove that sent me sprawling on the floor on the other side of the garage.
“What the hell, Tony?”
“I take off out of town and leave my motorcycle in your care and you put the make on my girlfriend, asshole! Get out of my way and give me my bike. I should kill you for this.” He turned and rocked the motorcycle off its stand before noticing the lock on the bike. “Get this fucking lock off my bike.”
“Like hell,” I said. “You get your bike when I get my money.”
“You think you’ll be able to spend it in the hospital?”
“You think you can ride it with that lock on it? I don’t know who told you what, but I haven’t been making moves on your girlfriend. You’re a real asshole, Tony. Look at me. Do you honestly think Patricia would do something with me when she’s got you? You’ve gotta be kidding.”
“Dan told me she’s been over here every day. You telling me she and you weren’t fooling around?” Tony demanded.
“Look at that bike, Tony! Do you have any idea how many hours of work it took to make it look like that? Your girlfriend came over here because she wanted to have a part in making your bike nice for you. She didn’t come here for me. Check her fingers where she got blisters sanding the tank. For some unknown reason she said she wanted you to think of her every time you looked at your bike.”
“If you’re lying to me, I’ll break every bone in your body,” he growled.
“Ask her.”
He turned to leave and saw Patricia running up the driveway.
“Tony! What are you doing over here instead of coming to see me? Is your stupid motorcycle more important than I am?” Patricia shouted.
“I came here to punch him out for making time with you,” Tony said.
“Are you out of your fucking head?” Patricia demanded. “Me, make out with him? Did you get drugs in California?”
“Are you saying you weren’t over here every day with him? Dan said you were wearing sexy clothes, too.”
“Dan’s a troublemaker. He’d say anything to get to you. I wore sexy clothes over here just like I’m wearing now.” She was wearing the shirt tied under her tits and skin tight jeans. Thankfully it wasn’t the short cutoffs. “I wanted a picture of me on your bike to give you, asshole. Nate made the photo and printed it for me. I spent a dollar and a half to get this frame at Center Marketplace, just so you’d have a sexy picture of me. You think I should give it to him instead?”
She handed the picture to Tony and he unwrapped it, dumping the paper on the floor. He just stood there and stared at it. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but I’d moved to the other side of the bike from him.
“You did this for me? You weren’t going to give it to him?”
“Tony, sometimes you’ve got rocks in your head. He took the picture and gave it to me. If he wanted a copy, he could just print one. Why would I give it back?”
“It’s… really good. You look like a star. A calendar girl. God, you look good.”
“I did a lot of the finishing sanding and steel wool before he painted it. Well, I spent a lot of time doing it, anyway. I think I only did a little, but I wanted to feel like I had a part in giving you this beautiful new bike,” she pouted.
“Oh, babe, I missed you so much,” he said as he pulled her to him and planted a kiss on her that threatened to ignite the garage.
“Take me for a ride, Tony. We can go out to the old river bridge and you can ride me for a while. What do you say, baby?”
I should not have heard that. The image of Tony riding Patricia was suddenly seared into my imagination. She was the only girl—live girl in the flesh—whose tits I’d ever seen. I’m not sure she even knew. And I saw her pubic hair sticking out of her underwear. And she just tucked it in around the edges while I was watching. Yeah. Patricia was Tony’s girl and I wouldn’t stand a chance with her, even if Tony was a million miles away. But I still fantasized about her and came buckets. They finally came up for air.
“Uh, sorry about the little misunderstanding,” Tony said as he looked at the bike and then at the picture again. “How much do I owe to get this lock taken off of it?”
I handed him the bill for $53.85.
“Dad said there’s a little nick out of one of the sparkplug wires. If you get a new wire, wheel it in to Henry’s and Dad will change it out for you. He figures that wire must have hit the pavement with the rest of the bike. He wrapped electrical tape around it for now, so it runs fine.”
Tony pulled a wallet out of his back pocket that was almost as big as my mom’s purse. It was chained to his belt. He sorted through a stack of bills and counted it out on the bench, then dug in his pocket for change. He shoved it to me and I scribbled on the bill, “Paid in Full. Nate Hart.”
I put the money in my pocket and dug out the key to unlock the bike.
Tony swung his leg over and kicked the bike to life. It sounded sweet. Dad could really tune up an engine when he set his mind to it. I kind of felt like the Manpower Retraining he did in refrigeration and air conditioning was a waste. But he got paid while he was in training.
“Hey… uh… No hard feelings, man. I just kind of lose it when I think someone is after Patricia. Can I leave this photo on the bench while we go out for a spin and then pick it up later?”
“Sure. My body shop is closed for the day. If I’m not here, just come in to get it. I put the lock on the bike because there’s no lock on the door and I didn’t want it to walk off in the middle of the night.”
“You know, you should show that picture someplace,” Tony grinned. “Really big, like a poster. A billboard! She’s so hot!”
I waved at them as they wheeled out of the drive and headed toward River Road. Sometime I was going to have to go out there and investigate the old river bridge. But not while Tony and Patricia were screwing out there.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
