Twenty-two and experienced beyond her years. Married and divorced at twenty. Fought her dad and mom and got thrown out of the house at eighteen. These...were things I didn’t know the morning I went to apply for the job, or maybe I wouldn’t have been so eager. The shop was a hole in the wall in an alley. Crammed to the ceiling with bikes. New, old, working, non-working. She took one look at me and laid it on the line. ‘Kid, you faked most of this resume, but I’m desperate. Get your ass in the shop. There was an office building beside the road and the rooms were behind. It was a red brick, single story building, a large window above an AC unit and a door marked each room. This place was 1000 years old. I was worried that this was some bait and switch. She texted her room was the very last. Here I went late in the afternoon, carrying a bag of weed into a crappy motel to fuck a hooker, bareback I had just texted on line. My heart was thumping. I knocked. She opened the door and it should. More

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