Yeah, I Know Bikes [Casey]

[Rhys Freeman]

Rhys knew Elijah wouldn't kick him out.  His brother said it from time to time in a fit of anger, but at the end of the day he would never make him leave.  Still, he understood why Elijah got so angry with him.  It wasn't like what he did to get money was legal or ethical, and Elijah didn't want that kind of bullshit in his house, not after the life they'd had.  He "expected more" out of Rhys, something he didn't appreciate hearing, so to get his brother off his back he decided to get a real job. Not like he had anything better to do during the day anyway other than play video games.  He wasn't good for much, really, only knowing how to fix cars and bikes, but it was enough to make an honest living on top of his dishonest one.  It wasn't like Elijah needed to know how much was coming in from a legit job and how much wasn't.  

He'd found a wanted ad and called about it, and to his surprise the guy told him to come on down for an interview.  Could it really be that simple?  Only if it was a legit job and he got it, he supposed.  The place wasn't hard to find.  He didn't dress like he would for an interview at a real place of business, because no one got dressed up to work at an auto body shop.  He wore baggy jeans and a crisp black and white hoody that was too large for him.  Clothes were sometimes hard to find with his size; everything that was long enough was baggy, which actually suited him fine.  He liked things to be big.

Rhys ran a hand over his short, dark hair before knocking on the guys door.  He was just about on time, not too early, but not late either.  Hopefully everything went well.

[Casey Snyder]

God fucking dammit! The last line of paint on the gas tank he had been wanting to finish for several weeks now had been ruined. It was the reason why he was forced to put out wanted ads for employees, he wanted to do more work in less time. Sure, it meant less pay but in the end it'd be worth it. He had been putting some thought into it and the first few years would be an investment, but in the long run it'd pay itself back. Two bikes done in the time he would finish one? Oh hell yeah!

But then there was the issue about wanting to expand his entire business, and that meant a new building. Money enough set aside, that wasn't an issue but he'd fucking kill someone if the wait went on long enough. Shame he forgot to specifically ask for people to help the move though, or as he would be forced to say in businessman-terms, faccilitate the relocation. Ugh, he could fucking shoot those people with sand up their vagina.

When he got the call about an interview though he was slightly stumped, he hadn''t thought anyone would respond to it. But when someone did he couldn't help but winder why the fuck it took people so long. He had answered the man with what he usually wouldn't use, normal words. Case had told the guy to come around for an interview and he'd set him up. Interviews weren't his thing, really, but instead of feeling nervous he was feeling angry. He knew he'd be forced to stop his work in a bit and focus on whoever this guy was.

Then he heard a knock on the door which caused his line of paint to spill, making him slam the tank he was working on in anger, and the tank responded in kind by having one of the protruding pieces of metal graze along the top of his hand. He shook his head as he stood up from his chair, feeling blood drip down his hand as he went for the door.

He swung the door open and looked at a man. Was this the man who had called him for the job? Probably. Looked like an inexperienced guy. ''The fuck you want?'' He said bluntly as he promptly turned around and made for the tank he was working on. Sitting down he realized with a sigh it needed a new coat of paint. He wondered if the client would mind more than one layer of paint. ''You one of those dicks who keeps the door open for no fucking reason?''

He realized he lived in just a garage, but this guy better not have the balls to address this. ''Why should I hire you over other people?'' He said without looking behind him to see if the guy had moved. ''Assuming you're here for the job. If not you can just get the fuck out, I'm working.''

[Rhys Freeman]

Rhys just stood there, dumb struck, by the guys greeting.  Who answered their door that way, especially when expecting company? He'd been invited for fucks sake.  And now he was being called a dick?  Rhys had a right mind to just turn the fuck around and leave, not bothering to shut this pricks door out of spite.  He didn't like the guys attitude, but that wasn't to say he wasn't used to being talked to in this way.  It wasn't his first time at this kind of rodeo, and in all honesty it probably wouldn't be his last.  He had a major decision to make though, and fast.  Hightail it the fuck out of there and don't look back, or go have the stupid interview.  It wasn't like being talked to in this way was anything new.  If anyone could handle it, it was him, and he could seriously use the legit money so he wouldn't have to hide his spending so much.  Worst case scenario he just left early.

He made his way into the shitty garage home and shut the door behind him, not really afraid of this guy.  He looked like he was all talk anyway, and Rhys figured he probably caught him at a bad time, even though he'd been told to show up then.  But despite his nastiness, the guy still knew who he was and why he was there.

"Why the hell would I come here if I didn't want the job? I ain't no door to door salesman." He sniffed, frowning at the guy hunched over.. was that a gas tank?  "And you should hire me 'cause after that bullshit a minute ago I didn't just fuckin' leave."  And that was the damn truth.  Did he think anyone would listen to that when arriving on time for an interview!? "That and I'm qualified."

[Casey Snyder]

Casey sighed yet again, not at the words of his guy but not knowing what to do. Whatever he felt before as he was working on the tank was gone now. Seemed like the guy would have to wait for his bike a little longer. So he turned around and grabbed a stray donut he had taken out before to try and keep himself sane, it wasn't like he'd go insane without blood but the rate at which his body healed was nuts, the wound on his hand had already grown shut. As he took a bite though he sat down on the couch and looked at the guy in front of him. What did interviews involve anyway?

He didn't tell the guy to sit and failed to even offer up something to eat. No, this one had to ask first, and even then he wouldn't help. ''I'll be the judge of that, shitcakes.'' He replied as the guy said he was qualified. ''This job isn't easy.'' He wasn't about to say he desperately needed someone else to work with him, but he did need someone. And this douche seemed to be able to cope with the way he spoke, which was a big plus. He shifted on the couch and put his elbows on his knees as he took another bite, looking at the smug face of this guy. ''The pay is ten grand per month on average.'' He could miss this easily, and even easier in the future if things panned out. Truth was, it'd possibly be a bit more but he wanted to see the response out of this guy, see if his demeanor towards him changed. Money changed people, even the idea of it did.

''First, tell me something about yourself. Can't wait to fuckin' hear it.'' He inhaled and pointed at him. ''Like, why the fuck do you think you're qualified?''

[Rhys Freeman]

Pale blue eyes set amongst caramel tones followed the man as he grabbed a donut and took a seat.  Shitcakes.  That was a new one.  He'd been called plenty of names either beginning or ending in "shit", but shitcakes was definitely one he hadn't heard yet.  

Rhys stuck his hands in his pockets as Casey went on, his eyes widening when he heard how much he could get paid.  That was, in theory, A hundred and twenty grand a year. That was more than more desk jockeys made.  hell, that was more than two desk jockeys cohabitating made together.  If this guy was for real, he could call him shitcakes all day long.  He was plenty used to being called things other than his actual name.  There was only so much he would put up with, though.  He was still a kid, he knew there were other job opportunities. What sort of bikes did this dick fix?


He considered a smartass answer, but he wanted the job now.  Ten grand was more than he could make in several months, let alone one.  "I've been workin' on bikes and cars for eight years."  It was sort of a stretch.  Rhys was about to be nineteen.  He hadn't worked steadily on them since then, but that was when he had gotten his introduction.  It was at a placement when an older kid showed him how to fix cars up.  It was Rhys who had continued his education on his own when he'd gotten to Hammel.  Once he'd gotten enough money for a dirt bike he'd picked one up and started fiddling with it, getting tips from various mechanics and store clerks as he got the pieces, using youtube and other websites to teach himself.  Next was a car for Elijah which turned into a bike for himself, which he later sold, and then a car for himself. 

"Mostly self taught, though I had some help over the years.  May not be the most experienced, but I'm a fast learner and I don't care if you call me Shitcakes."  He knew if he could show the guy what he could do, he could prove it, but explaining it was like Mozart saying he knew how to play the piano.  "Why don't you just let me show you?"

[Casey Snyder]

Why did people like money so much? He began to think about it, he had just named an amount which he could obviously miss for a few years if it was even going to be that long, though this guy would obviously want a raise later on. It all depended on his skills.

He smirked when he said he was working on them for eight years, what was this guy? thirty-six with lots of moisturizer? Or maybe he was just buttering him up by bending the truth a bit, though this meant it was a lie. Bending the truth was slightly less of a lie, but still a lie in essence. ''Eight years of experience?'' He stood up with the last piece of donut in his hand. He looked at the guy -he needed to remind himself to ask this guys name- and smiled. ''You're either one lucky fuck or a bad liar. And I'm betting a hundred grand you're the latter.'' He replied with a sneer as he put the last piece of donut in his mouth.

''Ith no thun ith you leth we caww you thjitcathe.'' He finally swallowed and took a moment before retrying. ''Is no fun if you let me call you shitcakes. How about dickwad? Throw in an extra grand right now if you'll let me call you dickwad and you act like you don't like it.'' This was fun, he could toy with this guy. He seemed to be taking it all and Case had thought it was because of the mention of what he would be getting. Or.. employees needed to earn their keep right? Whatever, he'll see in due time.

He sat back down on the couch once more and raised his hand at the guy lazily. ''You wanna show me? I have been working on a bike for some time now. The tank you saw me working on? Yea, custom job. Everything here is custom. On average we get fourty thousand per bike I make, usually I make one every month. Alone.'' He said as he leaned over to take a better look at the guy. ''Anyway. I've been working on this bike for a few weeks now, deadline is due in two days. It's fully done except for the gastank, as you saw me work on when you fucking ruined my work when you barged in.''

''You wanna show me what you're made of? Two days, finish that tank, paint it black entirely, fuck what the client wants, and put it in the bike I have set up in the next room. Show me you can work alone and make a deadline and I'll hire you.'' His eyes shrunk a bit as if to intimidate this guy. ''If you don't imagine that tank going through your skull. Okay, dickbag?''

''And just for fun, what if your real name?'' He wouldn't be using it anyway.

[Rhys Freeman]

If there weren't so much money riding on all of this, he might get up and leave.  Rhys didn't like this guy.  Not even a little.  Just because you were used to getting shit on your whole life didn't mean you liked it.  "I'm not a fuckin' liar." He growled softly, defending himself.  Experience didn't necessarily mean the same thing for them both.  "I've been working on bikes since I was a kid. Maybe not the experience you were looking for, but it's something." He defended, his hands clenched into tight fists in his pockets.  He wanted to walk out.  His better judgement told him it wasn't worth it, but he thought about Jocelyn, and then about Jayce and of course Elijah.  How much better could he make their lives with that kind of cheddar?  He could get them into a nicer apartment where he wouldn't have to share a room with Elijah.

"For an extra grand a month you can call me whatever the fuck you want and I'll pretend to take it any way you want me to." He offered with a scowl.  This dude was clearly disturbed if he got off on other people's misery.  Not even after the shit he'd been through was he that bad.  He didn't necessarily enjoy seeing people hurting.  Casey sat back down and Rhys continued to stand his ground.  He hadn't been invited to sit, and truth be told he really didn't want to.  

Rhys listened as Casey explained exactly what sort of business he ran.  forty grand a month was not bad money, and if he could swing this job he could really learn the ins and outs of making custom build bikes.  Hell, in a few months he'd probably be making his own bikes for the guy.  If he was busy making bikes, he wouldn't have to listen to this dick talk much, just listen to music and get to work. No stupid accusations of "barging in".  Rhys had done nothing of the sort, but he knew better than to point it out.  He'd once lived in a home where a guy accused him of punching a hole in the wall after literally punching the hole in the wall himself, right there, in front of Rhys.  It didn't matter what Rhys said, he was still punished for it.  Just for being there.  For witnessing it, and anyone the guy told would believe him, because that was the type of shit Rhys would do.  Casey was like that guy, and if he could deal with someone like that at ten, he could do it again at nineteen.

He felt his teeth grit at the way he was being talked to, everything bringing him back to a darker point in his life, but he was somewhat mature enough to handle the abuse now.  "It's Rhys." He knew something stupid was about to come out of this pricks mouth, some sort of taunt about his name.  Probably try to tell him that wasn't his name, it was pussydick or something equally retarded.

"Fine.  Want me to start now?"  This would be a piece of cake.  It was everything else that sucked.