Logs:In Which Matters Of The Heart Are Discussed And Advice (As Well As Hugs) Is Sought (And Given)

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In Which Matters Of The Heart Are Discussed And Advice (As Well As Hugs) Is Sought (And Given)
Dramatis Personae

Scramble, Taylor

2020-08-07


"I want that."

Location

<NYC> Hellhound Bikes - The Hole


Located not far from Jamaica Bay in a predominantly Latinx sector of East New York, this garage doesn't look like much from the outside. A low-slung squat dingy brick building with a hand-painted sign over front proclaiming it to be HELLHOUND CUSTOM CYCLES, this garage has a small office area with its own pedestrian entrance from the street at the front, containing a minifridge usually full of beer and beaten down old desk with a ledger and an antique cash register that no one ever seems to use. The rest of the space is roughly L-shaped, its walls lined with racks of tools and heavy workbenches with built-in steel drawers full of hardware and spare parts. There's a raised platform in the wider leg of the space for working on one motorcycle, and there's space in the narrower leg for parking at least three more.

The garage is bumping, the cheerfully defiant beats of Flo Milli's "In The Party" filling its walls. It is hardly a party within, admittedly; just Taylor, in jean shorts, old Xavier's School tee, patchless vest, carefully polishing the chrome on a recently fixed-up Ducati Scrambler due to be picked back up tomorrow. There's a bottle of Dr Pepper in one of his arms, a cotton rag in another, and he's chiming in with about half of each line, unbothered by knowing only a scattering of the words as his head bobs along in time. "-- didn't raise me so fuck they opinion."

Scramble's candy-red yamaha pulls up outside, her engine humming low before it cuts. Scramble herself steps into the garage a moment later, dressed in a red babydoll shirt under her cut (the skull on the back with colorful-spiral eyes and a halo of stars and birds), black jeans that lace up the sides, and heavy engineer's boots. She's fluffing her tight afro out after its confinement beneath the helmet. "Whoo, you put some shine on that, brother," She shakes her head at the mirror-like finish as she walks past him to drop herself into a chair. "You got a minute to talk?"

Taylor glances up, flashes a bright smile as Scramble arrives. One of his arms pats proudly at the pristine-clean wheel of the bike. "Yuh could admire that drip in this mirror, huh?" Yet another arm is gesturing to Scramble's outfit today -- as another reaches waaaay across the garage to snag his phone from a side table. "For you I gotta whole-ass hour. Lemme lower-down that." The volume on the music is turning down, a few notches. "Wha gine on, then?"

Scramble shifts to put herself in front of the bike, strikes a pose and -- in fact, using the bright chrome as a mirror to finish up with her hair. << I do my hair toss, check my nails, baby how you feelin'? >> Lizzo's voice is singing from the back of her head, << Feeling good as hell! >> Her brows furrow lightly as she settles back against the counter of a tool bench. "You know I been kicking it with Nat a while now," she says, fingers plucking distractly at the hem of her cut. "I don't gotta tell you how amazing she is, but also we really just click and --" Sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slow. "-- I'm happy. I ain't felt like this in a minute." << So why you acting like this is a problem? >>

Taylor lowers his rag. Tucks his phone in his pocket, takes a swig of his Dr Pepper. "Yeah I know. She been aight to you." He draws his knees up, bony arms curling around them and his eyes fixing on Scramble. "Shit, can think of many why. Something being tough don't mean it's a problem." Behind him his thickest arm lifts and falls in a small flex of shrug. "Peace gon' be in your heart always. And you gonna keep loving. Those are big feelings. Happy's a big feeling."

"She always gon' be in my heart," Scramble echoes reverently, not minding too much the pain that lances through her at the inevitable memory of her dead fiancée. "But that ain't what I'm having trouble with tho. I guess it's all heart, when it comes down to it." She holds up her left hand, holds out the black star sapphire ring that circles her ring finger. "It's like at some point I just decided that line, that would be too far to take another girl. I ain't even know what Nat think about all dat cuz we don't go there." Her hand drops down to clasp the opposite arm, folded across her chest. "But I want that with her, feel me?" Threaded beneath this, the thought << What if she don't want that with me? >> And yet, still, "I want that."

Taylor's head dips slow, brows scrunching together. "I always feel yuh, fam. Maybe she don't want it. What if she do?" One slim rubbery arm wrings slowly around the neck of his soda bottle. "You don't go there, you ain't evah know. You think bout your life next year, ten year, fifty year on, you think bout her in it? You don't want that shit happening by inertia."

"I see her there," Scramble replies evenly, "for the rest'a my life." Laughs lightly. "But I can't see her doing nothing by inertia." << The way she move, goddamn. >> Shakes her head, laughter still lingering in her voice. "She ain't never gonna try replacing Peace. I think she know she don't need to, there's love enough for them both up in here." She swallows, staring down at the ring. << I love you, Baby. >> Slowly wiggles it off of her finger, eyes brimming. "I'mma ask her. I won't pull no stunt, but I'mma ask." She reaches for Taylor, half blind with tears, ring clutched tight in her hand.

Taylor's reach is considerably longer. Four of his limbs curl around Scramble before her arms reach him; he gets to his feet, pulling her close as his two bony arms join them. His hug is tight, though he's very careful as he rests his cheek against the thick curls of her hair, "Whatever way she gine answer, I'll stock up mad Blue Moon fuh next time I see you, yeah?"