Page 2 of The Devil's Revelation
“You have no idea,” I reply drily before I can stop myself. I wince. “Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
Rose snickers. “Never be afraid to speak your mind, honey, because otherwise people will try and walk all over you. Let me get a pen and paper. I’ll write down the address and a note I want you to give to Torque. He’ll still want to do an interview, of course, but I have no doubt that you’ll fit right in. And if he gives you a hard time, you call me. I’ll straighten him out.”
I blink at her. “I’m sorry,” I manage to get out, “but are you offering me a job? Me? A complete stranger that you bumped into on the street?”
Rose gives me a warm smile that has the tension in my shoulders easing. “In my world, you figure out people’s measure quickly. You’re not running away screaming, you haven’t looked twice at my tattoos or my cut, and you got an air about you that’s badass bitch mixed with sweet. It’s an intriguing combination. I guess the question is whether you care about working for an MC.”
“MC? As in Motorcycle Club?” I look at the leather covering her shoulders and torso again, noting the Old Lady patch on the front.
She nods, watching me carefully. “That a problem for you?”
I shake my head. “We have a club back home, but they were mostly just guys that want to ride together. They don’t have a clubhouse or anything.”
“And you know how to work on motorcycles too?”
“I did a bit in school, but not much since. Still, I did well on figuring it out, so I’m sure I can handle it with a little training and guidance,” I answer honestly.
Rose smiles at me. “Good enough for me.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pen and a scrap piece of paper. She scribbles on it for a minute, folds it, scribbles some more, and hands it to me. “You take that to the address on the front and give it and your resume to Torque and he’ll get you set up.”
“Ah, thank you,” I say, taking it and my resume back from her. “I really appreciate you giving me a chance.”
She grins at me. “Honey, we need more women doing jobs that men seem to think that they are the only capable ones of doing. Once you’re all settled in, I’ll be by and we’ll get to know each other better.”
“I’d like that,” I say with a genuine smile. This woman is seriously awesome, and I can already tell I’m going to like her. “And thank you again. You won’t regret it.”
“I know I won’t,” she replies confidently. “Now I have to go and find that man of mine before he starts sending out a search party for me. Any other time I might make him wait, but I have plans for him tonight,” she says with a wicked grin and a wink.
I laugh. “Get it, girl.”
“Oh, and I put my number on that paper too, so if you run into any trouble, you just give me a call.” Then she pats my shoulder and heads off, hips swaying, and a grin on her face.
Damn. This has to be some kind of dumb luck or something.
I look at the address on the piece of paper, plug it into my phone, and follow the directions to the shop. The Devil’s Garage is situated just outside of the downtown core, and when I look around I see a few different industrial buildings, but also a mixture of apartment buildings. It also just so happens to be a few blocks away from my place. Much more convenient than the other shops I tried. I wonder how I missed it.
I walk into the parking lot, seeing the garage is quite large, with four bays, and a separate office space. I head for the glass door, nerves building in my belly. When I walk inside, it’s big and spacious with a large counter, an equally large waiting area with leather couches, and a coffee area. Behind the counter is a large mural that matches the one that was on Rose’s shirt but with a bit of a twist. Instead of a sword, it’s a wrench and some gears. It’s a neat design, and matches the theme if that’s what they were going for.
Right now the place is empty of people, and no one is waiting at the front. I walk up to it and look behind, towards where a hallway leads towards what I assume is the back offices. To my left is another short hallway with a large metal door that I figure leads to the bays.
“Hello?” I call, listening for any kind of noise.
Within seconds, a chair from the back office area scrapes on the concrete floor and I hear heavy footsteps coming towards me. I straighten my shoulders and put a polite, friendly smile on my face as the hottest man I’ve ever seen emerges from the hallway.
He’s over six feet, with dark hair and striking blue eyes that land on me and flicker over me with what looks like appreciation. His beard is cropped close to his chin, and shows off full lips that immediately remind me of Rose. He has on a pair of coveralls that are a little worse for wear, but to be expected with this kind of job and his a name on the front calling him Torque. His shirt sleeves cover him to his wrists, but I see ink peaking out on both arms as he moves.
“Something I can help you with?” he asks, his voice a low rumbly sound that has my stomach tightening. Oooh boy, that sound is going to be front and center in my fantasies.
“Hi, I’m Izzy,” I say, reaching out to offer my hand. He takes it and gives a quick shake, his palm warm against mine. “I spoke with your mother and she said you have a position open and told me to bring my resume to you. Oh, and a note from her as well,” I add, as I hold out both pieces of paper to him.
Torque’s eyes go from warm to annoyed in an instant, taking both pieces of paper and setting them on the counter, not bothering to look at them. “Well, my mother doesn’t run this shop, honey, I do,” he says coolly. “And we’re not looking for a receptionist right now. Though you’re pretty enough.”
I stiffen, annoyance flaring inside me. God, he’s just like every other bastard around here. “No I’m—”
“Look,” he says curtly, “I’m sure you’re great and all that. My mother has been trying to set my brother and I up for weeks now that my baby brother is all shacked up, but I’m not interested. I mean, sure, I’m good with a roll in the hay, but I don’t have time for a relationship or a woman nagging at me.” He gives me another quick once over. “You’re hot, baby, and I have no doubt I could have you under me and screaming my name in no time, but I’m not looking for much else.”
I’m surprised I don’t break into tiny pieces with how stiff I feel. I give him a cold look. “If you would bother to read my resume,” I reply tightly, “you would see I’m not a receptionist. I’m a mechanic.”
He gives a sharp laugh, like I’ve told some sort of great big joke. “You?” he snickers. “Nice try, babe. Wow, you women really are getting desperate now in your schemes to land one of us.”
This asshole is about to get a boot up the ass, but Rose’s face flashes in my mind, and I don’t really want to piss her off by beating her son. Fuck this. “First off, I’m not your babe,” I snarl, losing every last ounce of professionalism, “second, I am a mechanic. I graduated from one of the best colleges in Missouri, at the top of my class. Third, I wouldn’t sleep with you if you had a twelve inch dick, a forked tongue, and the ability to find the clit and G-Spot on the first try. All of you bastards are alike. You see a pretty face and you don’t look past anything else. Well, fuck you. I feel sorry for your mother, because she must not realize what a sexist asshole she’s got for a son.”
Without another word, I spin on my heel and storm out. I don’t stop going until I get back to my apartment. I slam the door, collapse on the couch as I breathe hard and try not to cry.
God, I made a mistake coming here. I made a mistake in my career too if this is all that awaits me. I don’t need or want special treatment, but I want someone to not look at my blonde hair and blue eyes and see a bimbo. I’m smart as hell, and I work just as hard if not harder than any man out there to be the best at what I do.
I take a deep breath and clench my shaking hands. There’s no point in being upset, I tell myself. It’s done, and I need to move on. I have one more shop to check out, and while the reputation isn’t the best, it’s my only option.
I grab the last of my resumes off the table, scan it once more, and then head back out the door. I’m not a quitter, and I’m going to make a name for myself, no matter how hard I need to crawl, fight, and bleed for it.
And screw anyone who tries to stand in my way.
