Chapter 11: Security
The showroom had gone quiet between customers, and Elias stood alone beside the Sovereign.
The price card had turned half away from the walkway. Elias reached out slowly and turned it square again.
"Ninety eight thousand," he murmured. "Samuel would have laughed at that. Then he would have asked if the brakes were worth it."
He rested his open hand lightly on the handlebar. He did not grip it.
"Hey."
Jared's voice crossed the floor before Jared did.
"Hey. Old man. I said it this morning and I meant it. Hands off."
Elias lifted his hand, palm open, in plain sight.
"Fair enough," Elias said. "It is yours to guard. I was only straightening the card. It had turned away from your customers."
"I need no lecture on cards from you," Jared said. "Stop touching a ninety eight thousand dollar motorcycle like it belongs in your garage."
"It does not belong in my garage," Elias said mildly. "It belongs in someone's. That is the point of building it."
Brett Harmon laughed. "He thinks he built it now."
"A great many people built it," Elias said. "That is how good machines happen."
Jared lowered his voice, and his smile went out of it. "Listen carefully. I am done repeating myself. You have wandered, you have loitered, and now you are putting your hands on the launch bike."
"I have asked questions," Elias said. "Several people answered kindly."
"Name one thing you are doing that a customer does."
"Looking at a motorcycle I admire," Elias said. "Carefully, without rushing. Customers used to be allowed the afternoon for that."
"This is launch week," Jared said. "This floor is for real buyers. You are a man in a plain jacket beside a machine you could not insure, let alone own."
Elias looked at him, unhurried. "You judge a wallet by a jacket, then."
"I judge time," Jared said. "Mine is expensive. Yours, apparently, is free."
"See?" Brett said. "It never stops. Sir, pick a bike in your range or let the staff work."
"My range," Elias repeated gently. "What would you say that is, son?"
"I would say it is not this one," Brett said.
"Here is what happens now," Jared said. "You walk out that door on your own, smiling, or I have you removed."
"You would have an old man removed for straightening a card," Elias said.
"I would have a trespasser removed for refusing to leave after being asked," Jared said. "Word it however makes you feel dignified. Omar."
Across the floor, Omar Hassan looked up from his post by the entrance.
"Omar," Jared called again, louder, turning so nearby customers could hear him. "We have a situation at the Sovereign."
Omar walked over without hurry and nodded once to Elias before looking at Jared.
"Mr. Kessler," Omar said.
"This gentleman has been asked to leave," Jared said. "He is refusing. Escort him out. Now. Take his arm if he needs help understanding."
Omar did not move toward Elias. He looked at the old man's open hands and calm face, then back at Jared.
"Has he threatened anyone?" Omar asked.
"Do not interview me, Omar," Jared said. "Do the job."
"Has he raised his voice, or damaged anything, or blocked a door?" Omar asked.
"He had his hands all over the launch bike," Brett said quickly. "We both saw it. He was practically sitting on it."
"I straightened the price card," Elias said to Omar, not to Brett. "And I rested my hand on the bar for a moment. That is the whole of my crime."
"It is enough," Jared said. "Omar. Arm. Door. Now."
Omar shook his head. "No, sir."
Jared blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I will not lay hands on this man," Omar said, quiet and even. "He is standing still. He is speaking politely. There is no cause to put a hand on him."
"You work in my store," Jared said, his voice climbing. "I am telling you to remove him."
"I work for this store," Omar said. "That is not the same thing. And I will not drag a calm old man across this floor because a card got straightened."
Brett laughed nervously. "Come on, Omar. It is just an escort. Nobody is dragging anybody."
"Then he does not need my hands to do it," Omar said.
Jared stepped closer, his voice sharp and private. "You are refusing a direct instruction in front of customers. Think hard about your next ten seconds."
"I have thought," Omar said. "Excuse me."
He stepped aside, took his phone from his pocket, and turned his shoulder to the floor as he dialed.
"Who are you calling?" Jared demanded.
Omar did not answer. He put the phone to his ear and waited, and in the silence that followed, nobody on that floor moved at all.
Chapter 12: A Confused Old Wanderer
Omar stepped back, phone at his ear, and Jared laughed once, loud enough for the showroom to hear.
"Folks, I am sorry about this," Jared said, turning to the customers near the Sovereign. "This happens sometimes."
"What happens sometimes?" a woman in a blue riding jacket asked.
"He wanders in," Jared said, lowering his voice to make it sound kind. "There is a senior center nearby. He slips away, comes in here, and settles by the most expensive bike on the floor. He thinks it is his."
"That is not true," Cal said quietly.
Jared did not look at him. "We handle it gently, usually. Today he got more confused. He started touching things. Moving cards around."
"I straightened the price card," Elias said. "It was facing the wall."
"See?" Jared said, with a sad smile. "Confused. He means no harm, but he cannot be handling a ninety eight thousand dollar machine."
A man lifted his phone and held it against his chest, lens facing out. The way he kept still said he was recording every word.
"Do you know his name?" the woman asked.
"If I did, I would tell you," Jared said. "He will tell you stories if you let him. Garages, old bikes, keys. It sounds real."
Elias looked back at Jared, his face calm.
"Son," Elias said, "you do not have to build a whole life for me."
"It is not a life, sir, it is help," Jared said. "We are helping you get back where you belong."
"And where is that?" Elias asked.
"Somewhere safe," Jared said. "Somewhere with people who know you."
"I know him," Cal said.
Jared turned. "Cal."
"I know him," Cal said again, louder, his ears red, but he did not step back. "He came in on the bus this morning. He asked about this bike like a rider asks, not like a man who is lost. He helped me push a dead bike in. Does that sound confused?"
"That does not change anything," Jared said smoothly.
"It changes the story you just told," Cal said. "Your story is not true. You made it up just now because Omar would not throw him out and you needed a reason that sounded better."
Brett shifted. "Cal, let it go."
"No," Cal said. "I have let it go all week. With Mrs. Ellery. With Miguel. I kept polishing chrome like that made it fine. It is not fine."
The woman looked at Elias. "Sir, are you all right? Do you want me to call someone?"
"That is kind of you," Elias said. "I am where I mean to be, and I am not lost. Thank you for asking me instead of asking about me."
"If he is not lost, why is security involved?" the man with the phone asked, without lowering it.
"Because I asked for order on my floor," Jared said, and the smoothness thinned. "And a porter has forgotten what his job is."
"My job is the bikes and the customers," Cal said. "He is a customer."
"He has not bought anything," Jared said.
"Neither has half the floor today," Cal said. "You still smile at the ones in the right boots."
"Watch yourself," Jared said.
"You mocked him beside this bike," Cal said. "You decided what he could afford by looking at his jacket. Now you tell these people he wanders off from a home, just to make yourself look patient. That is cruel, Jared."
"I do not know his name because he never gave a real one," Jared said.
"I gave it this morning," Elias said mildly. "You were not listening then, either."
"Enough," Jared said to Cal, stepping closer, voice dropping. "You want to keep working here? You want Sal to sign off on that technician track you keep begging about? Then stop talking, pick up your rag, and go detail the used row."
"You would do that for this?" Cal asked.
"I would do it for insubordination," Jared said. "One word to Vic and you are gone before lunch. Try me."
Elias set two fingers on Cal's sleeve.
"Cal," Elias said. "Let it go."
"But he is lying about you," Cal said.
"I know what he is doing," Elias said. "And I know what you just did, and it matters more than you know. But let it go, for now."
"For now?" Cal asked.
"For now," Elias said. "Some things need to finish being seen before they can be answered. That is enough. I will not have your future spent on my morning."
Cal stared at the floor, jaw tight, then nodded once, hard.
"Thank you," Elias said.
Jared exhaled, straightened his cuff, and turned back with a practiced smile. "Like I said, folks, we will handle it. Now, who wanted to hear what this engine does?"