Fubar: Sin City MC Oakland Chapter by Michel Prince & Sin City

Author:Michel Prince & Sin City [Prince, Michel & City, Sin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michel Prince Books
Published: 2023-09-15T16:00:00+00:00

When Shelby returned to the shop, it was under protest if the way she chased after Bo was any determination. There was a way her nose would crinkle when she was upset that set off small brush fires on Fubar’s skin.

“Pops, I swear if you even try to push that toolbox one inch, I will find a way to beat you for old and new,” Shelby spat.

“Child, don’t try to use my words against me,” he countered, then slipped into pure innocence. “I was just trying to get to the plug behind the chest.”

“I’ve got you.” Fubar popped up from where he was reassembling his motor. After wiping his hands on a rag, he took the charger, but when he moved the tool chest, there wasn’t a plug to be had. “Um, there isn’t—”

“I know what isn’t there, boy,” Bo barked. “I just wanted the damn chest put where it belongs.”

“Then where is that?” he asked. “I’ll move it.”

Bo’s lips pursed, and Fubar was sure, on the other side of the dark plastic sunglasses he was forced to wear, his eyes were narrowing. “I’m not infirmed.”

“I can tell, but a few weeks without lifting won’t kill you. Plus, it’ll make it so you can see nests in motors from fifty paces.”

Bo’s arthritic finger pointed about five feet from where the chest was sitting. It made sense because the access was more convenient.

“Aren’t you supposed to be fixing your bike, not playing Alice from The Brady Bunch and tidying up?”

“It’s easier when I know where the tools I need are.”

Bo grumbled a bit and made his way over to Fubar’s bike. “Now look here.” His foot toed at the pile of screws, washers, and bolts, making them scatter a bit, and Fubar clenched his fist for a moment before dropping down to a knee to straighten them back out.

“Pops, if you’re going to be a problem and not the solution, I will take you home,” Shelby snapped as she knelt by Fubar and helped put them back in order.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

“He feels useless and wants to take it out on all of us,” she explained, and he stilled when her finger accidentally brushed his. “I thought coming and seeing the shop running fine would help him stop fussing around the house. Now he’s just fussing here.”

“He’s the boss, right?” Fubar asked, then stood to face the older man. “I know how to follow directions. If you tell me how to do it right, I’ll be your hands, and you’ll have fixed my bike.”

Bo narrowed his eyes a bit, then gave three directions in rapid-fire mode. A test, one Fubar had known how to pass from age three. Directions were easy, but part of him was cataloging the orders for future use. The man had a few decades of knowledge he wanted to absorb, and once they got past Bo feeling useless, he turned into a teacher. A damn good one that had Fubar’s ass sitting at the front of the class.

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