Michael Bishop
"Michael, Michael!" Richie called for Michael from across the kitchen, and on the second attempt, Michael finally heard him, stopped walking, and turned around.
They stood next to each other in an out-of-the-way location next to the wall, and Richie smiled and let out a sigh. "Busy night, huh?" he asked.
"I had no idea it would be like this," Michael said. "I thought when you said Ross was serving barbeque that it would be, you know, more casual—like a picnic or something."
"There's about three or four hundred at this thing every year," Richie said. "It's a big deal with the richies."
"You're a Richie," Michael said, making a joke but still wearing a straight face.
Richie laughed and he and Michael stood there, taking in the hustle and bustle of the kitchen staff. It was the end of a long night, and they were up to their ears in dirty dishes.
"Don't worry, you don't have to stick around and help with all this," Richie said. "We're just thankful you could help us on the floor. I don't know what we would have done without you. All three Vinson brothers came down with the flu, so Uncle Ross would have been up a real creek if you hadn't filled in." He and Michael leaned against the wall so that one of the other waiters could come by with a tray of dishes.
"It was no problem," Michael said. He shrugged. "I only caused a little trouble."
"What trouble?" Richie asked.
"I got a lecture for talking to one of the girls."
Ritchie laughed. "Mrs. Shelley balled you out, huh? I saw her going over there when that Benson girl was throwing herself at you."
Michael shrugged. "It was no big deal. She said it was just a fair warning."
"Yeah, you probably don't want to mess around with these girls."
"I don't want to, anyway," Michael said. "At least not with the ones who are trying to talk to me," he added.
They walked back toward the dining room, and after taking several long paces in silence, the two gentlemen came to stand at the edge, looking out on the crowded room. Dinner and dessert had been served, and even though many of the guests were still present, there was a sense of completion about the evening. Maybe it just seemed that way to Michael because one of the girls had just played the piano in what seemed like a grand finale. He didn't know how they could do anything to follow that.
He was lost in thought about the young woman's heart-wrenching performance as he caught sight of her from across the room. She was looking at him when he first found her, but she shifted to stare at the ground once their eyes met. She said something to her friend, and Michael watched her before leaning over to speak to Richie.
"Her," he said. "That's the one I want."
"Carole Benson?" Richie asked.
"Is that her name?" Michael said. "I thought I met another girl with that same name tonight."
"Carole's the one in pink, waving at you." Michael shifted his focus to the young lady in pink who was waving and smiling as if posing for a photo even though nobody was taking one.
"I'm talking about the girl in white," Michael said, looking again at the one who had played the piano.
"There's about fifty girls in white," Richie said.
"The one who played the piano just now," Michael said.
Richie let out an uncontrollable laugh.
"What?"
"Ivy Lewis?" Richie asked incredulously.
Michael shrugged. "The one in white."
"The one who played Amazing Grace?" Richie asked, craning his neck to get a look at Ivy. "She's sitting at one of my tables."
"I know," Michael said. "I wanted to ask if you'd trade with me, but it got busy."
Richie laughed at what an understatement that was since they had been extremely busy all night. "Ivy Lewis is the number one girl on the off-limits list. You should know that simply by the fact that she played a church song just now. Plus, she's got a boyfriend. He's sitting next to her at the table."
"I like church music," Michael said with a shrug, blowing past the boyfriend comment.
"Yeah, well, try convincing Dan Lewis of that," Richie said. "Or Sheila Woods. Those people have something against motorcycles. I was over there serving them. I heard their conversation. They think all guys who ride are hoods. I heard them talking about Mr. Morrow giving you his place, and they weren't too happy about it."
"So they weren't just talking about people with motorcycles in general? You're saying they were specifically talking about me?"
Richie looked a little bit ashamed of having it come out that way, but he still nodded.
"What'd they say?" Michael asked.
Richie lifted one shoulder. There was a tinge of regret to his expression that let Michael know the people had been talking bad about him. "They're just being judgmental. They have their own ideas about what Mr. Morrow should've done with his body shop."
"Mr. Morrow's son was pretty realistic with me about that when we first met. He said his dad's shop was an institution with the older generation and that I might have a little opposition since I build bikes and not cars."
"I heard Mr. Woods saying you did build cars," Richie said. "Is that true?"
Michael nodded. "I got my start at Chevrolet," he said. "But I've been building bikes full-time for a while now. I was doing it before that man ever left me his garage. I just didn't have the room and the luxuries I have now. I'm thankful he did what he did, and I don’t really care what everyone else in town thinks about it."
Richie smiled and punched at Michael's shoulder. "They certainly don't think you can go out with Ivy Lewis. She's the most off-limits one of them all."
"You already said that, and it does nothing but make me want to walk over there and talk to her."
"Don't you dare do it," Richie said.
Michael gave Richie a sideways stare at how serious he seemed.
"I can arrange for you to talk to her without you going over there," Richie said. "You don't want to go over there. Mrs. Woods is uh… She's just… there's just no telling what she could say if she knew you were..." Richie paused and smiled. "But you're in luck if you want to see Ivy Lewis up close, though, because her boyfriend really wants to check out your motorcycle. I told him I knew someone who had a Bishop bike in the parking lot, and he said he wanted to take a look at it."
Just then, Michael felt a tap on his shoulder. "Thank you so much for helping out."
Michael turned to find Richie's uncle Ross, the owner of the barbeque restaurant that catered the event. "You're welcome," Michael said. "I had fun."
"You really helped us out of a bind, man." He shook Michael's hand and gestured into the room. "They're almost done in here. They'll be filtering out before too long." He pointed at Michael's table. "I'll have somebody finish up with your table. You can go home, and we'll finish cleaning everything up. Thanks again. I'll take your check by the garage next week."
Richie looked at Michael and then his uncle. "I was just asking Michael if he would stick around to show some people his motorcycle. I guess I'll just tell Stephen Meyers he can check out Michael's bike some other time."
"What'd Stephen Meyers say about it?" Ross asked, knowing how powerful his family was.
"A couple of the guys at my table were talking about Michael's bike, and I told them they could probably take a look at it." He held out his hands. "I didn't tell them you were the one who built it or anything. I just told them I knew someone who had a Bishop in the parking lot, and they said they wanted to see it. Pretty much that whole end of the table said they wanted to see it."
"Might not be a bad idea to stick around and show it to them," Ross said with a shrug.
"I don't mind sticking around," Michael said, knowing he wanted to see the girl. "Richie said they're curious, so I'll stay to let them check it out. I would say they could come see it at my shop, but something tells me they might not ever set foot in there."
"Ya think?" Richie asked with a laugh.
Richie's uncle Ross laughed as well. "Their loss," he said, throwing his hands in the air as he walked away.
"I can help with some of the cleaning while I wait," Michael said.
Ross shrugged. "We'd sure appreciate your help, but please don't feel like you have to."
Michael smiled and nodded at Ross as if to tell him he'd be right there.
"I'll tell those guys you're staying just long enough to let them see the bike," Richie said. "I don't want you to have to stick around unless they're serious about going out there to take a look. I'll see what they say and let you know."
Michael thought that was a good plan and went to clear any remaining dishes from his table as Richie took off to do the same. Michael glanced at the girl in white and realized she was looking at him. He smiled at her, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a shy smile just before she turned to look away.
***
Michael was helping Ross load containers into his van a half-hour later when Richie came up from behind them.
"I've been looking all over for you," Richie said with his hands up as he walked.
Ross had a radio on in the van. He had it tuned to a station that was broadcasting a Rhythm and blues show, and Michael smiled at the way Richie's footfall matched the beat of the music.
"I've been looking all over for you in there," Richie repeated.
Michael smiled. "We're out here."
"I thought you had left."
"He's been out here helping me do man stuff," Ross said in an overly deep voice. He reached out to tousle Richie's hair as he approached. Richie dodged his uncle's attempts, but he still took a comb out of his back pocket and ran it through his hair just for good measure.
"They're ready," Richie said, looking at Michael with an excited grin. "They're coming right now."
Michael knew exactly who Richie was referring to. "Who's ready?" he asked just to push Richie's buttons.
"Stephen Meyers, and Bobby and them. I think there's about five guys wanted to come see it if that's okay."
Michael nodded. He wanted to say it wasn't the guys he was worried about, but instead he just smiled and kept quiet.
"Thanks again," Ross said, looking straight at Michael. He held out his hand and stared Michael in the eyes as if really trying to convey his sincere appreciation. "Seriously, man, I know you didn't have to do this tonight, and I hope you know how much I appreciate it."
"It was no problem," Michael said, shaking the other man's hand. The three men heard sounds of talking and laughing and the shifting of gravel underfoot as a group of about eight or ten people came around the back of the banquet hall. Michael, Richie, and Ross were standing at the rear of the building near the staff entrance—an area those other people usually didn’t visit.
"I've got to finish up inside," Ross said, patting Richie on the shoulder as he turned to walk inside. "Thanks again to both of you," he said from over his shoulder. His radio still played in the background.
"Hey ya, guys!" Richie called to the group of people who were walking around the building. He gave an over-exaggerated wave, and Michael just stood there feeling entertained by how excitable Richie was. "Over here!" Richie said. He looked at Michael with a nervous smile. "They're coming."
Michael smiled. "Yep," he said.
"These kind of people usually don't talk to me," Richie said. "Stephen's dad owns about half of Memphis, and Mr. Woods practically owns the other half. That's Mr. Woods all the way on the left. I can't believe he came out here. I thought it was gonna just be Stephen and Bobby and them. I didn't know their dads were gonna come."
"It's fine," Michael said. He smiled calmly, but it was slightly forced. He usually had no problems maintaining composure, but this was more difficult, and not because the men who were approaching apparently owned most of Memphis. Michael didn't care about that. Okay maybe he cared a little. He knew he had to be cordial. For the sake of his business, he knew he shouldn't make enemies. It wasn't the men who made Michael nervous, though.
It was the girl.
She was walking with the group of people, and the closer they got, the harder it was for Michael not to stare straight at her. Richie babbled in Michael's ear while the group approached, and Michael did his best to look like he was paying attention to what his friend was saying. The group had to walk another thirty or so feet before approaching the area where the guys were standing.
"Right here!" Richie said, pointing at Michael's motorcycle, which was sitting there, right out in the open. Michael watched as the group of curious onlookers gathered around.
Ross had left his radio playing, and there was definitely a feeling of rebellion in the air even though there was nothing going on other than standing around looking at a motorcycle. Michael could tell they all thought they were doing something wrong just by looking at it.
"I heard they're pretty fast," was the first thing that was said once everyone had the chance to stare at it for a few seconds.
Michael looked at the guy who said it and smiled. "I can't complain," he said.
"Is it yours?" one of the other men asked.
Michael nodded. "Yes sir."
"Did you buy it straight from the guy who took over Mr. Morrow's shop?" another man asked.
"He is the guy who took over Mr. Morrow's shop."
Michael's head whipped around to stare at the girl who said it.
It was the one in white.
Ivy Lewis.
The most off-limits one of them all.
She was standing there, staring at him with those big brown eyes. Michael desperately wanted to know more about her.
He could tell by the look on her face that she regretted speaking up now that everyone's eyes were on her, but she smiled and shrugged innocently. "Am I right?" she asked, turning the attention back to Michael.