Redder

Synopsis: Motorcycle mechanic Cheyenne crosses an old gypsy woman and finds herself dealing with an embarrassing situation.

*****

Redder

By: Chrystal Wynd

"Yo, Cheyenne," said Bear, the large, grizzled garage owner who was also my boss. "Take care of that Iron 883 that just came in, a'right?"

"What's wrong with it?" I said, without looking up from the Victory Vegas 8-Ball engine I was working on.

"Ain't starting," he said.

"My bike ain't starting either," I said, nodding at the engine in front of me, "and I still have that Honda to fix. Can't Snake take care of that 883?"

I could sense his black beard bristling. "Snake has his own work to do," said Bear, "and more importantly, I just told

you

to do it." He shook his head. "I

really

need a Chey Discipline System."

"All right, all right," I said, standing and wiping my greasy hands down my jeans. "I'll take care of it."

I strolled over to where the Iron 883 was parked. No bells and whistles on this bike, but it was still a Harley.

The owner stood behind the bike, looking distressed. He was young and clean cut and didn't have a single speck of grease of him, meaning he hadn't even tried to fix the problem himself. A pretty boy. I rolled my eyes.

"Weekend warrior, right?" I said, trying to keep the disdain from my voice. He didn't deserve that bike.

His eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," I said. "What's the problem?"

He shrugged. "It's not starting."

I sighed. "Yeah, I got that. I bet that's why you're here."

"Well, yeah..."

I cut him short. "Don't hurt yourself. I'll take care of it."

"Thanks," he said. "Nice tattoos."

I held up my forearms, showing off my tats. "You got a problem with ink?"

He blinked. "Ummm...no...I was just complimenting them."

"Forget it, Romeo," I said. "What are you...nineteen? I'm at least five years older than you. Besides, I don't bat for your team."

"Not my business," he said, eyes wide, "and I wasn't trying to hit on you, okay?"

"Yeah, sure you weren't," I said. "Whatever. You want your bike fixed or not?"

He held up his hands. "Yes, umm, please," he said. He took a nervous step backward. "I'll just leave you to it, okay?" he said.

"Good idea," I said. "I'll call you when it's ready."

He reached into the saddle bag near the seat and took out everything inside. Then he shook his head, took out his cell phone and called someone for a ride. He finished making arrangements as he walked toward the waiting room.

Bear walked over and gave me a look. "A little hard on him, weren't you, Chey? Did you really think he was hitting on you?"

I shrugged. I was dressed in leather biker boots, grease-stained jeans and tee-shirt and my short black hair could hardly be called glamorous. Still, a lot of guys got off on that kind of thing.

"I was just preventing any misunderstandings," I said.

Bear shook his head. "He's just a kid trying to get his bike fixed," he said. "I know your bike ain't startin', but no need to take it out on my customers."

I shrugged. "I'm not a people person."

"I noticed," said Bear, "and it's a good thing you're such a good bike mechanic, because your inability to get along with anyone would make me hard-pressed to keep you otherwise. You got attitude, Chey."

"Awwww, you noticed," I said. "I was trying so hard to keep it a secret."

Bear grunted and flexed his thick forearms. "Just fix it without getting all judgmental on him, okay?"

I gave him a two-fingered salute. "You got it, chief," I said. "I'll finish the Honda and then get Pretty Boy's bike allllllll fixed up."

Bear shook his head and walked away muttering to himself. Heh. I couldn't afford to push him

too

much, though. I had too many bills and losing my job right now would be a really bad thing. Not to mention my bike payments. Riding in style doesn't come cheap.

Yeah, I had been a bit hard on the pretty boy. I didn't give a damn. I was a motorcycle mechanic, not a marketing rep. He'd just have to get over it.

*****

I was still working on the Honda when the garage closed. Snake had left, so Bear and I were the only ones left in the shop.

"You about done?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm finishing the Honda now." I nodded at the pretty boy's Harley. "I'll look at that one before I leave."

Bear nodded. "Cool," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sure enough, shortly after Bear left, I finished the Honda. I wanted to get my bike fixed- I was missing a poker game to fix this kid's bike- but I knew Bear wanted this bike fixed before tomorrow, so I needed to do that before I could even think about working on mine.

I walked to the bike and glared at it. This stupid bike was keeping me from my poker game. Stupid bike. Then I sighed. I can't stay mad at Harley's long.

I could easily stay mad at the kid, though. There was a saddle bag on the bike. I popped it open and looked inside, just for the hell of it.

There wasn't much inside the saddle bag...just a small, flat, ragged box on the bottom. When I opened the box, though, it turned out there was a beaded necklace inside. A nice one, really. It wasn't gold or anything like that, so probably not too valuable, but it was a nice piece. It looked vaguely like gypsy craft. Considering the condition of the box, the kid probably didn't even know it was in the saddle bag.

Whatever. I had work to do. I closed the box and started looking over the engine.

As it turned out, it was mainly disconnected vacuum lines. It was an easy fix. In fact, it was done so quick, I actually had enough time to get to the poker game...but only if I left immediately.

I looked at my bike and sighed. That just wasn't going to happen.

Then I looked at the kid's bike.

As the mechanic, it was a good idea to give the bike a test ride to make sure it was working right. In fact, it was my

duty

to do so.

I nodded to myself, on surer moral ground now, and kicked-started the bike.

*****

I woke the next morning wishing I was dead.

"Oh...my...gawd..." I said. Then I groaned. I was...SO...hungover.

I rolled over and stuck my head under my pillow. I tried to recall the night before. How the hell had I gotten home?

It was fuzzy. Really fuzzy. I remembered using the kid's bike to get to my card game and showing up just in time to get dealt in. Someone had brought in a case of Jack Daniels and everybody was drinking. It was a hell of a loud card game.

I tried to recall the outcome. I vaguely remembered trying to win enough money to buy the parts to fix my bike. I had bad luck all night. At least, I think I did. I was blank on most of the last half of the game. Except maybe a brief memory of betting...something...something...a necklace or something?

Then I groaned. The kid's necklace. I was pretty sure I had lost it during the game. Dammit.

Then I mentally shrugged, too close to death to worry about it. Besides, the kid probably didn't even know about the necklace being in the saddle bag. He'd never miss it.

*****

"Look," I said, "I'm telling you, I have no idea what you're talking about. I never went in the saddle bag, so I have no idea what happened to this necklace you're talking about."

The kid- I still didn't know his name- was standing in front of me, his face red with anger. With him was an older woman I hadn't seen before, but she looked enough like the kid that it wasn't hard to figure out that it was his mother. Strangely enough, she was dressed in gypsy clothing.

"It's my grandmother's necklace," the kid was saying. "I took it to get the clasp repaired and my motorcycle stopped working before I got it home. It was in the saddle bag when I left this garage and now it's not. That is my mother's necklace and I need it back."

Bear sighed. "Why didn't you take it out before you left? It's never a good idea to leave any kind of valuables in your vehicle when you leave it at a garage."

"I meant to," said the kid, "but that mechanic accused me of hitting on her and got all aggressive on me. I got flustered and forgot to get the necklace before I left. It was there in the saddle bag when I left, though. The jeweler was the last place I stopped before my motorcycle broke down."

I shook my head. "Sorry," I said. "I never saw it."

Bear gave me a look. "You're

sure

you never saw it, Chey?"

"Positive."

Bear continued staring at me, his beard bristling. Then he turned to the kid and his grandmother. "Please accept my apologies for this situation. If you'll come with me to the office, we'll compensate you for your loss. And there'll be no charge for the work done on the bike, of course."

The gypsy woman nodded her head at Bear. "Despite your gruff exterior, sir, you have an honest heart. I am grateful for your offer. However, the value of the necklace lies not in the gold, but rather in its history. The necklace is a family heirloom. The monetary value is meaningless. The sentimental value, however, is irreplaceable."

Bear looked pained. "I understand, ma'am, and I'm sorry it went down this way. Perhaps it'll still turn up somewhere."

The woman nodded. "Perhaps it will, sir," she said, turning to look at me. "I truly hope so."

I squirmed uncomfortably. It felt like she was looking right through me and I had the sudden horrible suspicion she knew

exactly

where the necklace had gone and why. I decided to go on the offensive.

"Are you accusing me of stealing your necklace?" I said, assuming an angry expression. "Well, are you? If you are, prove it!"

The woman said nothing.

I sneered. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Then she stepped forward and grabbed my forearm. "Redder...!" she said, her voice hissing between her teeth.

"Leggo, you old bat!" I said, pulling my arm free. "I should have you arrested for assault!"

Bear stepped forward, inserting his bulk between me and the old woman. "Let's keep it civil," he said. "I understand you're upset. However, I do have to say that unless we find the necklace on Chey, there's no proof she stole it."

The woman nodded. "You are correct, of course. Should the young lady locate the necklace, she will no doubt return it to us, yes? But otherwise, we shall consider this matter concluded."

She stared at me and I felt a chill. I really didn't like this creepy lady. Fortunately they had no way of proving anything. Then the woman turned on her heel and left the garage, followed closely by her son.

Once they had left, I turned to Bear.

"The nerve of that woman, accusing me like that," I said. "Can you believe it?"

"Yeah," he said. "The nerve." He looked at me for a long moment. Then he turned and walked to the office.

*****

It wasn't a good day, so after work I went straight home and showered. Then I went to sleep.

Waking the next morning was tough. I felt like I could use another hour or two of sleep. All things considered, though, being late today didn't seem like a good idea. So I got out of bed and headed for the kitchen to make coffee. And that's when I noticed something odd.

My toenails were red.

My sexuality was no secret and I hardly qualified as 'feminine.' I had never painted my toenails in my life. So how the hell did I end up with slut-red toes?

Was someone screwing with me? I checked my doors and windows, but everything was locked. I had no clue had I had managed to end up with red toes. I didn't even have nail polish remover to get rid of the embarrassing color.

I finally shrugged. Whatever. Maybe it happened when I got drunk at the poker game and I just didn't remember it. Anyway, there wasn't anything I could do about it right now. No one was going to see anything in my motorcycle boots. I went to the kitchen and put the coffee on. Then I went back to my room to get dressed for work.

That's when things started getting

really

weird.

I took off the shorts I was wearing so I could change into jeans. I rummaged around, pulled out a pair of work jeans and started sliding into them. As I did so, I realized I was wearing red panties.

There was nothing wrong with red panties, of course...except for the fact that I didn't own any.

I stared down at my underwear. I was prepared to swear they were the exact same panties I put on the night before...except they had been dark blue at the time, not red.

What the hell was going on? Mysteriously painted toenails, panties that changed color while I was sleeping...what the hell was going on?

I shook my head. I wasn't going to let something stupid like this rattle me. So I had stupid slut toes and red underwear. Big deal. I needed to forget it and just get to work. I was in enough hot water with Bear without showing up late for work as well. I pulled my jeans back on and then grabbed my bra and worked my tits into place. Then I grabbed a tee-shirt. Just as I was about to put my shirt on, however, I froze.

My bra had turned red.

It wasn't a case of my bra

being

red...my bra had

turned

red. It had been white moments ago, but after being on my body for a few seconds, it had turned red.

Things were officially weird now.

Unfortunately, however, I didn't have time to give it any thought. Staring at my underclothing all morning had left me with no spare time. I had to get to work.

I took off the bra and tossed it on my bed. I put my tee-shirt on over my bare tits. I'd go without a bra for the day. Hell, I didn't really need a bra anyway. I only wore one because sudden gusts of exhaust were common in the garage and shirts occasionally rode up if you were in an awkward position while working on a bike. Going braless for a day wasn't going to hurt me and it wasn't like anyone would even notice.

I adjusted my tee-shirt, laced up my boots and headed out for work.

*****

I arrived at the garage a couple minutes late.

"Glad you could join us, Chey," growled Bear. He wasn't normally a clock-watching boss...that wasn't his style. But he really wasn't happy about yesterday's scene with the kid and his gypsy mother, and I knew enough to know it was probably a good idea to control my mouth for a day or two and give things a chance to blow over. I needed this job too much to take any chances.

"Sorry, boss," I said. "I ran into a little traffic at-"

"Save it," he growled. "Get the plugs changed on that Honda, then trouble-shoot the ignition system on the Yamaha."

I opened my mouth to retort, then thought better of it and nodded. Yeah, he was still upset. Whatever.

I worked on the bikes all morning. I didn't talk to anybody. I was in a mood. My fucking nipples were so hard, they ached. The slightest brush against my shirt was sending ridiculously heated ripples through my belly. It was crazy. Working on motorcycles wasn't supposed to get me crazy horny. It was just that kind of fucking day.

I finally stopped for lunch. I stood and stretched, then gasped as my nipples pressed against my tee-shirt.

Okay, I'd had enough of this. Red or not, I was going home to put on a bra.

*****

I clocked out for lunch, then rode straight home.

My bra was still on the bed where I had left it. My

white

bra. As soon as I put it on, however, it immediately turned red.

Fine. Whatever. With my tits tucked inside my bra, the sensitivity faded enough that I was at least able to think straight again. Good enough.

I made myself a quick sandwich and headed back to work.

*****

I returned to the garage and immediately got back to work on the bikes. This underwear and bra stuff was making me surly. I don't like things I don't understand. Also, I was a dyke bike mechanic. I felt silly as hell wearing girly red underwear.

A couple hours later, I stopped for a break. My back was sore and my joints ached. Besides, I had gotten a shit-load of stuff done, so I had earned it.

I picked up a shop towel and wiped the grease from my hands. And then I froze.

My fingernails had grown. And by grown, I mean they now extended a good half-inch past my fingertips.

And they were red.

My heart pounded in my chest. How the hell was this happening? How?

I stomped off to the bathroom and proceeded to wash my hands repeatedly. It didn't remove the nail color. I hadn't expected it to, but I had hoped. Although I couldn't do anything about the nail color yet, however, I could do something about the length of my fingernails. I took out a pair of nail clippers and proceeded to trim my fingernails down as far as I could.

A sudden sharp knock on the door caused me to nearly jump out of my skin.

"Frickin' A!" I said, heart still jack-knifing. "I'm in here!"

Snake's voice sounded through the door. "You got a call."

"Not now," I said, teeth still clenched. "Take a message."

"It's some woman," said Snake. "She wants to know if you feel better."

"If I feel better?" I said, shaking my head. "Take a fucking message!"

Who the hell would call me with a question like that? I felt fine, if you didn't count the weird stuff going on. But why would someone call to ask me that? It had to be some nut job like that fucking gypsy woman or...

Then my eyes widened.

"Wait, Snake!" I said, pulling my tee-shirt back down and flushing the toilet. "I'm coming out!"

I pulled open the door and snatched the phone from Snake. Snake looked at me oddly and shook his head. Then he walked away.

I put the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hello, Cheyenne," said the voice. It was the kid's grandmother- the gypsy woman.

"Yeah," I said. "What do you want? Why did you call to ask if I feel better?"

"I didn't call to ask if you feel better," she said. "I called to ask if you feel

redder

."

Then she laughed.

I clenched my teeth. It was her. I should have realized it this morning. She knew. She fucking

knew

what was happening to me, but there was no way I was giving her the satisfaction. I forced myself to take a breath and speak calmly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

"I see," said the woman. "Since you...appear...to have no idea of what I speak, I can only conclude that you do indeed feel...better...and that you spoke truly when you said you are not responsible for my missing heirloom. In which case you have my apologies, Cheyenne, and we need not speak again. Farewell."

I wavered for a moment. The truth was on the tip of my tongue. But by saying nothing, I'd be cleared and I wouldn't have to walk on fucking eggshells around Bear. Yeah, I'd have fucking red girly underwear for a while and silly slut nails, but it would be easy enough to work around.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," I said. "One should never make accusations without being sure."

"Of course not," she said dryly.

"And, ahh, be sure to mention it to my boss, all right?"

She paused, then said, "I will do so."

Then she hung up.

Exhaling, I turned off the phone and allowed myself a smirk. I had somehow managed to pull it off.

Then I got busy trying to ignore the fact that my fingernails had grown back even longer than before.

*****

I took the phone back to the charging station by the office. Bear was standing there.

"Did you hear that, boss?" I said. "That batty old woman apologized for accusing me of stealing her necklace."

"Yeah," he rumbled. "I just got off the phone with her."

"Told ya I didn't take it," I said.

Bear gave me a long look. "I'm glad to hear it," he said finally.

"What?" I said. "You still don't believe me?"

"Chey," he said, "the only thing I'll say is I hope you didn't. I've been around enough to know it's not a good idea to mess around with certain people."

I flushed. "You think I'm scared of some old gypsy woman?"