Let It Breathe by Tawna Fenske Page A

doesn’t collapse around us?”
    “Be nice,” she scolded. Then she squeezed his arm and went clicking across the concrete floor to the door. Eric watched her go, smiling a little as she turned and blew him a kiss.
    “Anyone seen Axl this morning?” Jed asked.
    “He was out back working on his motorcycle earlier,” Eric said. “When did he get the T-shirt that says ‘If you can read this, the bitch fell off’?”
    “That was a gift from Larissa,” Jed said. “We tried to hide it from him so he wouldn’t offend the ladies at the Senior Center, but he found it in the hamper this morning.”
    As if on cue, the door burst open and Axl came marching through. He wore black leather chaps over torn jeans, and something that looked like a dog chain around his neck. Behind him stood two similarly dressed senior citizens with matted facial hair and arms that looked like tattooed tree trunks.
    Axl spotted Jed and flipped up his aviator bifocals. “There you are,” he said, marching forward with the men on his heels. “You trying to ditch us again?”
    Jed sighed. “Axl, I keep telling you—the wine country bike tours are for bicycles—not motorcycles.”
    “It doesn’t say that anywhere in the brochure,” he insisted, folding his arms over his chest. “A bike is a bike, am I right, boys?”
    One of the men nodded. “You’re always right, Axl.”
    Jed glanced at his watch. “I thought you had a Bingo tournament this morning, Axl.”
    “I did, but half the crew got dragged off to the pokey last night for stealing Preparation H from Walmart. That leaves my schedule free for a bike tour.”
    “It’s not that kind of bike tour,” Jed argued. “Look, I’ve got twenty-eight people signed up to make the loop between here and the other five vineyards in the program, and I don’t need you guys on your hogs flipping off cops and mooning cars.”
    “It was just that once,” Axl muttered. Seeming to notice the others in the room for the first time, he narrowed his eyes at Clay. “You ride?”
    “’Fraid not.”
    “Damn shame. The gang’s always looking for fresh blood. You staying nearby while you’re here?”
    “I’m at a hotel in town for now,” Clay said. “The company offered to spring for a long-term rental, but we haven’t found anything yet.”
    “So you don’t have a place lined up?”
    “I just got here. Haven’t really had a chance to go house hunting.”
    “Hell—you can rent my old place. The one I lived in ’til I shacked up with the kids last year? It’s right there on the edge of the vineyard, all convenient for you. Nice little bachelor pad, if you know what I mean. Mirrors on the ceiling—”
    “That’s actually not a bad idea, Axl,” Jed said, then frowned. “Not the mirrors—I mean, the cabin’s just sitting there empty. Clay, you’re welcome to rent it if you’d like. We’d make you a deal.”
    At the edge of the group, Eric cleared his throat and looked at Clay. “Didn’t you say something about wanting to be closer to town?”
    Clay looked at his old friend, trying to read his expression. Was Eric trying to save him from stammering an awkward refusal? Or was he trying to minimize the time Clay spent at the vineyard?
    Either way, Clay knew what to say. “Thanks, but I’ve got a line on a couple possibilities in town. I appreciate the offer, though.”
    Axl shrugged. “Suit yourself. The place is empty if you change your mind. All right, boys—you want to ride or you want to go dig for ’shrooms in the woods again?”
    “Ride,” one of the geriatric beefcakes answered. “Later on the ’shrooms.”
    The other guy bobbed his head on his neckless shoulders and led them back outside.
    Once the door shut behind them, Jed shook his head before turning back to Eric and Clay. “Okay, kids, I’m out of here. Tell my beautiful wife I miss her already.”
    “Will do, sir,” Clay said, shifting the wrench in his hands.
    As soon as Jed was gone, Clay set the wrench