Michael
Two months later
Michael and Ivy spent the next two months together. They went out to Jim-bo's on a weekly basis, and each time, he watched in amazement as Ivy sang rhythm and blues in a way that sincerely moved him and others.
He saw her as an instrument—one that God himself would delight in hearing. Ivy performed at church as well, and she did a beautiful job, but it was never with quite the same emotion that she used other places. He knew she was holding something back with gospel music, and he hated that. Her rhythm and blues persona would have transferred beautifully, but Ivy wasn't willing to let the two worlds intersect.
She got a phone call while she was home for the summer. It was a record producer up in Nashville who had gotten her name from someone at the blues club over there and wanted to hire her for some studio gigs.
Michael congratulated her and encouraged her to go through with it, but it was bittersweet for him to think that Ivy would soon be headed back to Nashville. The time for her to do that was much sooner than Michael cared to admit. Ivy would be leaving in a few short days, and the prospect of it made Michael feel most irritable. They hadn't discussed plans for the future other than just assuming they would see each other on a regular basis.
Michael was lost in thought as he worked, considering the two-hundred-mile gap that would soon develop between them when he heard pounding on the metal door that was on the side of his building.
"It's open," he yelled as he lifted his welding helmet.
He turned to find that there were three men darkening his doorway—all of them were substantially sized men, and none of them looked very happy. The one in the middle was Stephen Meyers's dad whose name was Stephen also. Michael had met him one other time in the months since he came to town, and he recognized him instantly.
Max was working full time with Michael, but he had gone to pick up lunch when the men showed up.
Michael took off his helmet, and set down his welding equipment, removing his gloves as he came to stand a little closer to the men. He noticed that the one on the left had a gun and badge. He was dressed in a suit, but Michael could see the gun and badge under his coat. The one on the right was a huge, burly guy, and he stared in a threatening way that made Michael level Mr. Meyers with a sideways stare.
"Can I help you?" Michael asked.
"You sure can," the man said.
"Okay, how?"
"I know you've been seeing quite a lot of Ivy Lewis this summer."
"Yes sir, I have." Michael didn't grow up using the word sir all the time, but he had learned in his short time in Memphis that the term went along way with southerners.
"I just came to tell you that's over," the man said.
Michael stared blankly at him as if he had lapsed into a different language.
"The affair you're having with Ivy Lewis," Mr. Meyers continued. "It's over."
Michael let out an involuntary laugh. "Affair?" he asked in disbelief. That was not at all the word he would use to describe what was going on with himself and Ivy. Not even close.
"What's so funny?" asked the big threatening looking one.
"It's just an odd word to use," Michael said.
"I don't care if you think what I say is odd, young man. Just so you get the point that whatever was going on between you and Ivy Lewis is over. We decided we would give her the rest of the summer to get this string of wild choices out of her system, but she needs to be done with all that. She'll focus on her studies during her last year of college, and when she comes home next summer, my son will propose."
"Oh, is that how you think it's going to work?"
"Yes it is, actually," Stephen said with a gravely serious look on his face. "My son is quite fond of Ivy, Mr. Bishop. He grew up with her, and they have been through a lot together. He's ready to settle down, and he's chosen Ivy. It has been the plan all along."
"Yeah, well, I don't think Ivy knows about your plan."
"I don't care what Ivy knows, Mr. Bishop."
"My son wants the hand of Ivy Lewis, and I intend to help him obtain it."
"I'm sorry Mr. Meyers, but your son is going to have to find someone else to marry. Ivy loves me."
Stephen laughed cynically. "Ivy is a naïve twenty–year-old girl who doesn't know who she loves, or what she wants, or what's best for her."
"She's not twenty," Michael said.
Mr. Meyers sneered at him. "She's not far from that."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Meyers, but I fail to see how you have any authority in this situation."
"I want to see my son happy and I'm capable of helping him get that happiness. That's all the authority I need."
"Yeah, but there's nothing you can do."
"Oh, but there is something I can do to Ivy and her family," he said. "I could change everything with a few phone calls. I hope it doesn't come to that."
"What could you possibly do?"
"I could turn Ivy Lewis's life upside down. Most of the people in that man's congregation are lifelong friends of mine. We do the hiring and firing around there since we fund ninety percent of the church. I would hate do it, but with a phone call or two, the Lewis family would be done here."
Michael squinted at the man. "Are you telling me you want to take Ivy as your beloved daughter-in-law, and that you would ruin her entire family before you would have it any other way?"
"Yes."
"That's completely ridiculous," Michael said. "You don't care about her."
"No, I don't," Mr. Meyers said. "And I don't have to. I'm not the one who wants to marry her. It's my son. I have no feelings for the girl other than making sure she and my son are happy and taken care of."
"She's not going to make your son happy if she's forced into marrying him."
"Nobody is going to force her."
"That is exactly what you are doing by coming here and threatening me."
"No it's not," he said sternly. "This is completely separate from Ivy. This is about you. You're going to break things off with her before she goes to school. She's going to take a year to take her wounds, and when she gets back, my son will have a life built for her that she won't refuse. She will have the best of everything. She will lack nothing."
"She's not the type of girl who cares about that," Michael said.
Stephen laughed. "Maybe not now. Not while she's all swept away by the romance and the motorcycles." He gestured around the room. "One day all this is going to get old. One day, she is going to wake up and hate herself. She's gonna curse the day that she lost the respect of everyone in her hometown when she married the trash that rolled into town one summer."
The cop and the big bruiser guy both nodded their agreement to his last statement, and Michael stood there with his fists clinched, barely able to stop himself from hitting Stephen Meyers square in the jaw.
"Listen, Mr. Bishop, it's plain and simple. Your job is to end things with Ivy Lewis before she leaves for school. End of story. If the leverage over her family isn’t enough, you should consider the impact you would have on her future and her good name here in Memphis. You should really consider doing what's best for Ivy. Her family would be much happier with this match, and that means a lot to a woman. Maybe not now, but eventually she would hate you if you were the reason her family no longer talked to her."
"Are you trying to tell me Ivy's family would disown her if she stayed with me?"
"I know they're not happy with the match, and I'm not even sure if they know that you met Mr. Morrow's brother in prison."
"You're right, I did meet him in prison, but I wasn't in prison. I chose to be there."
"You met the man in prison, Michael. It doesn't matter why you were there, only that you were. You made acquaintances through the state penitentiary. Do you think that's the kind of name Ivy deserves—the kind her parents want for her? You seem like a smart young man. Do you think she's gonna be satisfied with your little motorcycle business in twenty years? No. The answer to that is 'no'. Not when it came at the cost of destroying her family. She's gonna end up hating you for it. The choice is simple. Do the right thing, Michael. You'll thank yourself later."
The three gentlemen turned and headed out of Michael's shop.
"Do what you need to do before Ivy leaves, and you'll be saving her a lot of pain."
The big menacing looking one pushed over a piece of sheet metal on his way out, causing it to clang violently to the ground.
Max must have heard the commotion or seen the men in the parking lot because he came around the corner a minute later wearing a concerned expression. He was carrying brown paper bags, and he stared at Michael as if waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, Max said, "Sorry, man. I forgot you didn't want cheese, and I accidently got you a cheeseburger." He continued to glance around cautiously, checking to make sure everything was okay. "I'm sorry about the cheese," he said when Michael still said nothing.
"It's fine."
"I saw some guys pulling out," Max said. "It looked like the sheriff's department."
"One guy was a cop. And there were two others."
"What'd they want? A bike? Man, you should build bikes for the police department. You could customize some cruisers. City of Memphis." Max held a small bag in the air between them, and Michael reached out and took it from him.
"He wasn't here because he wanted to buy anything," Michael said.
"Why was he here?"
No longer hungry, Michael tossed his food onto a nearby countertop.
Max opened his burger and took a huge bite out of it before repeating his question. "Why was he here?" he asked with a mouth full of food.
"To threaten me," Michael said. "They came here to threaten me."