The Con Artist's Takeover

Logan stood, merged with the floor, unable to move. It wasn’t a garage—it was a warehouse. He counted ten cars. All expensive. Gazillion-pound expensive.

“Do you like it?” Meeka asked.

“Lollapalooza,” he said, keeping his eyes on the cars.

Meeka laughed. “I knew you’d love it.”

Jason nudged his shoulder. “Come see this,” he said.

They walked past a mechanic pit and all kinds of equipment.

“Andrew likes building up cars. It’s his thing,” Jason said.

Logan looked back. Andrew was showing Cole and his foster parents a hot rod. He was way into it.

They went through a door and stepped into wonderland.

Motorbikes! So many amazing motorbikes. There was a Ducati Desmosedici, a MTT Turbine Streetfighter, a Suzuki Hayabusa, and even a Dodge Tomahawk.

Unbelievable!

“Come look at this,” Jason said. “I’ve been collecting them for years. But this is my favourite.”

He pulled a drop cloth off a bike.

“It’s an Ecosse ES1 Superbike!” Logan shouted. “Monsta-cool! I have a poster of one in my bedroom.”

Jason grinned. “I only got it recently.”

Logan’s jaw dropped open. “Isn’t it worth like three million pounds?”

“It’s three point six million dollars. Which is about two point nine million pounds.”

“Aww, it’s cheap then,” Logan said never taking his eyes off it. “Can I touch it?”

“Sure,” Jason said.

He reached out his hand.

“Watch it!” Jason shouted.

Logan’s heart pounded.

Jason laughed and hugged him, then held his shoulders.

“I just wanted to make you jump. Go on, you can hop on it if you like. It’s only a bike.”

Logan let go of his breath and climbed on the bike.

Meeka stood a little way off, watching Jason hug Logan. A frown stomped on her mood. Dad had only been home five minutes and he’d forgotten her. Stupid bikes. Stupid Logan.

She sighed. Probably that wasn’t fair. Logan was her climbing buddy. She could share her Dad with him. Right?

She was being silly. Best to go hop on the Ecosse behind Logan and pretend to be escaping from a fire on a superbike. That would be cool. No, it would be scary hot. Scot?

She smiled to herself. Her made-up words were slowly coming back. Things were going to be okay. Dad was home.

She went over and climbed on the back of the bike.

“What are you doing, Meeka?” Jason’s forehead scrunched up. “Logan’s on there. Hop off right now.”

She slid off the bike and stared at Jason. “I thought we could pretend to be escaping a fire. It would be scot.” Her shoulders sagged.

Jason let out a deep sigh. “Scot? Another new word, huh? Tell me later what it is. I’m going to take a photo of Logan on the Ecosse for his wall.” He turned back to the bike.

Like she wasn’t even there.

He’d always loved her new words. Not any more.

Not now Logan was here.

She turned and trudged back to Andrew