twangy.”
That earned him a nod. “I hear that a lot. The old twangy stuff’s dying out. So, you reckon you could make me a bike that I could learn to ride, Tyler?”
He grinned, noting the change of subject. “I reckon I could, Kit.”
“I would like that. I take it you need to come up with specs and an estimate and then I’ll cut you a check.” Kit leaned forward, rubbed his knees, shoulder muscles working.
He nodded. “That sounds about right. I’ll do you a couple of estimates -- one with a brand new bike, another with a second hand one, something I can build up myself. The advantage of a brand new one is going to be durability, but your cost will come down a lot if I build it up from scrap. I won’t try and tell you that one I build is going to be as durable and steady as a top of the line new one, but I do a fair job, even if I do say so myself.”
“I’m less worried about the money than the quality. It’ll have to be good before the insurance company will cover it.” Kit nodded. “Sounds good. I’ve always wanted a bike, even before the accident.”
“Good for you for sticking to your guns and not letting a thing like that derail you. There are lots of people who would.” He liked Kit. The more he talked to the man, the more he got a good feeling about him.
“The option is getting back up on the horse or lying down to die, I guess. I’ve had a few years to get used to things. Believe me, I wasn’t near as gracious -- or graceful -- at first.”
Tyler nodded. “Yeah, I had a friend who didn’t take the same option as you. Damn shame, the man was beautiful and talented enough to get a rise out of dead man. The wheel goes around though, doesn’t it?”
Kit nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. I... I was damned lucky. Ten of the twelve of us on the bus died. Rick and I... we don’t talk much anymore.”
“Oh man, I’m sorry.”
“Shit happens.” Kit nodded, stretched. “Enough of the sordid and morbid. Can you recommend a place to get a beer and a burger? I’m starving.”
“Sure, Kelly’s just down the road. Has a great balcony out back, too. Stools in the sand, practically on the beach.” He weighed his options, gut telling him he liked this man, wanted to get to know him better. His gut usually wasn’t wrong. On the other hand, Kit was a customer, and one who was going to be paying him a hell of a lot of money at that. He decided to drop a little hint and let the winds blow where they would. “It’s my favorite place. You tell Vera Ty sent you and she’ll give you a piece of pie at half price.”
“Sand, huh?” Kit gave him a quiet look. “How about this? You make sure I don’t go ass-first into the dirt and I’ll buy a round of beers.”
Tyler grinned, pleased with the winds. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Kit. You give me a couple of minutes to close up shop and I’ll join ‘ya.”
“Cool.” Kit stood, moving stiff, but steady, and headed toward the front, giving Tyler a nice long look at a strong back and tight little ass.
He had a feeling he was going to need to see a lot of Kit to get this bike just right. At least he hoped so.
Chapter Two
Kit followed Tyler down the road a bit, fighting a groan as he swung his legs out of the truck. He’d had the legs on for damned near twelve hours; he was pushing his personal record as it was, much less after adding supper and the drive home.
Still, Tyler was interesting and not bad to look on. Kit chuckled at himself as he stood, steadying himself on the truck door. Rednecks did not look upon tattooed, longhaired, surfer-type motorcyclists with desire. It was in the handbook, under Cowboy Fags 101 -- Thou shalt lust from afar after bull riders and ranch hands in denim.
By the time Tyler walked over to him, Kit damned near had himself cackling, his tiredness fading with the laughter. Thank God for teaching him that on those long nights on the road. Laughing kept him awake.
Tyler had a warm smile for him,
That earned him a nod. “I hear that a lot. The old twangy stuff’s dying out. So, you reckon you could make me a bike that I could learn to ride, Tyler?”
He grinned, noting the change of subject. “I reckon I could, Kit.”
“I would like that. I take it you need to come up with specs and an estimate and then I’ll cut you a check.” Kit leaned forward, rubbed his knees, shoulder muscles working.
He nodded. “That sounds about right. I’ll do you a couple of estimates -- one with a brand new bike, another with a second hand one, something I can build up myself. The advantage of a brand new one is going to be durability, but your cost will come down a lot if I build it up from scrap. I won’t try and tell you that one I build is going to be as durable and steady as a top of the line new one, but I do a fair job, even if I do say so myself.”
“I’m less worried about the money than the quality. It’ll have to be good before the insurance company will cover it.” Kit nodded. “Sounds good. I’ve always wanted a bike, even before the accident.”
“Good for you for sticking to your guns and not letting a thing like that derail you. There are lots of people who would.” He liked Kit. The more he talked to the man, the more he got a good feeling about him.
“The option is getting back up on the horse or lying down to die, I guess. I’ve had a few years to get used to things. Believe me, I wasn’t near as gracious -- or graceful -- at first.”
Tyler nodded. “Yeah, I had a friend who didn’t take the same option as you. Damn shame, the man was beautiful and talented enough to get a rise out of dead man. The wheel goes around though, doesn’t it?”
Kit nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. I... I was damned lucky. Ten of the twelve of us on the bus died. Rick and I... we don’t talk much anymore.”
“Oh man, I’m sorry.”
“Shit happens.” Kit nodded, stretched. “Enough of the sordid and morbid. Can you recommend a place to get a beer and a burger? I’m starving.”
“Sure, Kelly’s just down the road. Has a great balcony out back, too. Stools in the sand, practically on the beach.” He weighed his options, gut telling him he liked this man, wanted to get to know him better. His gut usually wasn’t wrong. On the other hand, Kit was a customer, and one who was going to be paying him a hell of a lot of money at that. He decided to drop a little hint and let the winds blow where they would. “It’s my favorite place. You tell Vera Ty sent you and she’ll give you a piece of pie at half price.”
“Sand, huh?” Kit gave him a quiet look. “How about this? You make sure I don’t go ass-first into the dirt and I’ll buy a round of beers.”
Tyler grinned, pleased with the winds. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Kit. You give me a couple of minutes to close up shop and I’ll join ‘ya.”
“Cool.” Kit stood, moving stiff, but steady, and headed toward the front, giving Tyler a nice long look at a strong back and tight little ass.
He had a feeling he was going to need to see a lot of Kit to get this bike just right. At least he hoped so.
Chapter Two
Kit followed Tyler down the road a bit, fighting a groan as he swung his legs out of the truck. He’d had the legs on for damned near twelve hours; he was pushing his personal record as it was, much less after adding supper and the drive home.
Still, Tyler was interesting and not bad to look on. Kit chuckled at himself as he stood, steadying himself on the truck door. Rednecks did not look upon tattooed, longhaired, surfer-type motorcyclists with desire. It was in the handbook, under Cowboy Fags 101 -- Thou shalt lust from afar after bull riders and ranch hands in denim.
By the time Tyler walked over to him, Kit damned near had himself cackling, his tiredness fading with the laughter. Thank God for teaching him that on those long nights on the road. Laughing kept him awake.
Tyler had a warm smile for him,
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