Chapter 8: The Workplace Delivery

The next morning, the escalating conflict hit Mom directly. I was at school when she called, her voice tight with suppressed anger and embarrassment.

“Leo, you will not believe what Arthur Gentry just did.”

My stomach clenched. “What happened, Mom?”

“He came to the bakery,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Right in front of Mrs. Henderson, the manager, and all the customers. He handed me this… this ‘Sheriff Impound Warning’.”

My blood ran cold. He had escalated again.

“He said if we don’t surrender the motorcycle by Friday, the sheriff will seize it,” she continued, her voice rising now, close to tears. “He made a whole scene, Leo. Mrs. Henderson looked at me like I was some kind of criminal.”

I could picture it: the warm, inviting aroma of fresh bread and coffee, shattered by Arthur’s booming voice and official-looking document. Mom, already fragile from grief, exposed and shamed in her workplace.

“Mom, don’t worry,” I said, trying to sound calm. “It’s another bluff. He can’t just send the sheriff. There’s a whole legal process.”

“But it looks so official!” she cried. “It says ‘Immediate Seizure Recommended’ and has a badge icon on it. He said he’d be back with a tow truck and a deputy.”

She paused, then her voice dropped, choked with despair. “Leo, maybe we should just give it to him. The bike. It’s just causing us so much trouble. Danny wouldn’t want this stress for us.”

My jaw tightened. Give up Danny’s motorcycle? The last tangible piece of him we had, the project that was helping me feel close to him again? Never.

“No, Mom,” I said, my voice firm. “We are not giving him the motorcycle. This is exactly what he wants. He wants to scare you into giving up. He’s wrong, and we have the proof.”

“But the embarrassment,” she pleaded, “the stress… I can’t keep doing this, Leo.”

“I know, Mom. I know it’s hard,” I said, my voice softening. “But please, just trust me on this. Uncle Marcus is helping. Maya and Sam too. We’re putting everything together. We’re going to make him back down. We’re going to get rid of him for good.”

There was a long silence on the line. Then, a weary sigh. “Alright, Leo,” she finally said, her voice small. “Just… be careful. Don’t do anything reckless.”

“I won’t,” I promised, though I knew what we were planning felt plenty reckless. Arthur Gentry was playing dirty, and it was time to show him we could play dirtier.