“Grumbler,” he supplies.
Stupidly I hold out my hand. “Mary.”
“I remember,” he says with a quick grin and, leaning in, he takes my hand and holds it lightly in his much larger paw, but he lets it go almost immediately.
Flustered for some reason, I step to one side, and wave him past me, while simultaneously calling out, “Alicia, come here a moment.”
There’s silence. I roll my eyes. “Sorry, look, take a seat, I’ll go get her.”
Instead of sitting, he remains standing. He shakes his head, opens his mouth and bellows, “Alicia, get out here. Your mom wants to speak to you.”
Resisting the urge to cover my ears, I grin at him, observing, “That should work.”
It does. Seconds later, I hear a door banging open, then wince as it’s slammed shut. Then my daughter appears.
“What the fuck does she want me for?”
“Ask in a pleasanter tone and you might get an answer.” Grumbler pulls himself to his full height and glares at Alicia.
Raised for the past seven years without a father’s influence, Alicia isn’t used to a man’s stern tone. Her mouth opens and closes as she swallows down her retort, correctly surmising the way she normally speaks to me won’t work on him. But knowing her as I do, I’m not surprised when she goes the other way instead, turning her eyes on me, and asking in sweet dulcet tones, “Dear Mother, what can I do for you?”
Grumbler snorts a laugh. “You are trouble, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t know the half of it. But a corner of Alicia’s mouth turns up, and some of her anger leaves her.
The biker reaches for his phone which I’m embarrassed to find I’m still holding, having moved it into my left hand when I’d shaken his. He unlocks it again, then turns it toward her.
Now her jaw drops, and a huge grin covers her face. “Mom! Have you seen this? I’m on the cover of a freaking book. Look.” She turns the phone to face me. “Look, Mom, I’m on the cover. Can you believe it?” She actually jumps up and down on the spot, then stops and turns to Grumbler. “Can you send this to my phone, my number is—”
Before she can give him the digits, I put my hand on her arm. “Sit, Alicia. We need to talk.” I hate to burst her bubble and think how I can emphasise the positives. Yes, one of the photos she had taken was chosen to be on a book, that’s the big thing, isn’t it? That the photographer scammed her out of the money may not be so important to her.
“It’s great news.” Grumbler takes the single chair while I sit next to my daughter on the small two-seater couch. He winks at her. “It’s a great shot of my bike.”
Alicia jumps up. “Can I see it again?”
He passes his phone over to her. “Send it to yourself,” he suggests. As she presses a few keys and does so, he sits forward, his legs parted, and his hands clasped together.
I appreciate that he’s given her a moment to digest that it’s really her on the cover of a published book, and not immediately jumping in with unpleasantries. I know what she’s going to want to do next, so standing, I take Grumbler’s phone from her, give it back, then stop her when she starts taking her own device out of the pocket of her jean shorts. If I don’t, she’ll be messaging all her friends and posting about it on Facebook before she’s given us a chance to talk.
“Alicia, sit down.” It’s my I want a grown-up conversation voice.
She hesitates for a moment, then looks at Grumbler who’s now frowning again, then back at the serious look on my face. “What’s going on?”
Grumbler starts before I can. “Devon Starr agreed to pay me a fee for using my bike. He hasn’t. He didn’t tell me the photo was sold, and I only found out when one of our ol’ ladies was reading the book and recognised my Harley.”
“One of your old ladies?” Alicia giggles. “This book? Old ladies don’t read these types of romances.”
Grumbler shakes his head, while I reprimand her gently. “Doesn’t matter how old you are if it’s a good book.” I’m still trying to deal with the thought his club seems full of elderly women. Do they clean and cook?
“Not that type of ol’ lady,” Grumbler starts, but doesn’t go on to explain how there can be different types. “Thing is, Starr should have contacted me and arranged payment.”
It’s my daughter’s turn to shrug. “That doesn’t mean anything. He’s not paid me yet either.”
Grumbler just stares at her. I watch as she meets his eyes, then, knowing my girl may be naïve but she’s far from stupid, I wait for the penny to drop. It doesn’t take long.
“You don’t think he’s going to, do you? Have you spoken to him?”
“Not yet,” he admits. “Thing is, I prefer looking a man in the face, so I’m trying to locate him.”
I narrow my eyes. “How did you find my address?”
For a second, he looks sheepish. “We’ve got a computer guy, he can find anyone.”
I’m not sure I like the sound of that. But case in point, “So why hasn’t he found Devon?”
I’m intrigued when Grumbler looks completely sheepish. “I didn’t ask.”
My brow furrows. “You didn’t ask? Yet you asked him to find us.”
He glances down at his hands. “Yeah, well.
