2019-08-04 - Strippers and Snakes at Steelhead

(TXT to Itzhak) Zoiya: Hey uh. Got your number from a random corkboard. Says you fix things. Do things include bikes?
(TXT to Zoiya) Itzhak: Yeah sure do. What's up
(TXT to Itzhak) Zoiya: I think it's the fuel line, but it could be whatever. I'm not a mechanic. It's a Yamaha. Walking to work is killing me.
(TXT to Zoiya) Itzhak: I have time, bring her in.
(TXT to Itzhak) Zoiya: Thanks!

Cool and drizzly, that's a Pacific Northwest day in August. Steelhead Service Center is, therefore, muddy, as it sits on a mostly-dirt lot without much grass, only volunteer dandelions and crabgrass. It looks somewhat dead, although there's lights on. There's only one car, parked on the street, and since that's a gorgeous Corvette probably it's not a patient.

Zoiya has been rethinking her life choices since she arrived in Seattle. Bikes are fun and fast, until you're soaked from the rain. Today she can't even say that it's fun because the damn thing isn't running. Zoiya pushes her Yamaha V Star 250 Cruiser up toward the garage, looking a little bit like a drowned cat. Her hair is plastered to her head, her jacket damp, and the hem of her jeans soaked. She's wearing riding boots underneath though so her socks are probably dry. She puts down the kick stand and swipes an inked hand over her face. "Hello?" She calls out.

Violin music, something chipper and bluegrassy, floats from within the building. That shit is resonant. When Zoiya calls, it stutters to a stop. Itzhak opens the door, one hand on the doorframe to hang on it. He squints at Zoiya. "That you, with the bike? Lemme open the bay. ...You look miserable." With that observation he goes back inside.

One of the bay doors opens on a well-lit interior. There's a little sitting area in the back, a few thrifted chairs on an equally-thrifted rug. There's also a very large terrarium built into a corner, housing a giant snake. Itzhak waves Zoiya in, reappearing at the bay door.

The music gives her pause, wondering where someone might find that radio station. Then it stops, not the radio? She flashes a grin at Itzhak when he appears, it might be a little strained. She does look miserable. She puts up the kick stand and walks the bike through the bay doors. She huffs out a sigh, props it back on the stand and gives the place a brief look, eyes lingering on the snake. She turns toward Itzhak, hands moving to her hair to wring out some of the moisture. "Thanks for letting me come right in. Walking to work in this weather is killing me."

The music was not the radio, and in fact the source of it is obvious: a music stand is in the middle of the bay, with a fiddle case open on the cracked concrete floor next to it. "Eh, you can see how busy I am," Itzhak says, eyeing Zoiya. "Go dry off some in the bathroom would you? You're making me cold just looking at you. There's paper towels." He turns to investigate the bike.

The snake is very, very big. At least fifteen feet long or so, as thick around as a young tree. It's slowly clambering around inside its enclosure, nosing along the branches set in there for it to climb on. Lots of silk plants and vines are in there too, giving it a jungly look.

Zoiya grunts, her eyes on the music stand when he shoos her toward the bathroom. "Okay okay. I'm going." She shrugs out of her jacket, the plain white t-shirt underneath looking pretty dry. All that ink on her arms is now on display. She walks into the bathroom, her voice carrying as she tries to get less damp. "Where did you get the snake? Reminds me of that weird ass Britney video, cept I think yours is bigger." Water runs for a moment and then she steps back out, stopping near the terrarium, keeping her hands well to herself. "You're pretty." is murmured to the snake.

She looks a little better, hair starting to spring back into its usual willful curls. She sinks into a thrifted chair, arms folded over her chest as she watches Itzhak look over the bike.

The snake is bright white with brilliant yellow mottled patterning. It lifts its head when Zoiya comes near, long forked tongue flicking out at her. "That's Lemondrop," Itzhak calls, "she's my baby. I rescued her from a guy who thought a big snake would make him look tough. Then when she grew up he was terrified of her. Had the sense to surrender her so I can't judge him too hard." Ha ha, yes he can. He's kneeling next to the bike, one hand all up in its business. Glancing up at Zoiya, he looks at her a little blankly--then blinks, eyebrows popping up. "Oh man. I know you. You're a stripper." And then he turns a wee titch red across the cheekbones and looks back down at the bike. "You were at that Platinum place."

"I like her name, bright and sweet." Zoiya is looking toward the terrarium as she decides this, but the story draws her gaze back to the mechanic, eyebrows raised. "Did he plan on walking around with her draped over his shoulders or something?" It's absurd enough that it probably was the plan, people are amazing. She watches Itzhak make eye contact, go blank, his next words making her smirk. "I am a stripper, yeah. I'm also Mae." She tries to suppress a laugh when his cheeks go red, but she does lean forward, elbows on her knees. "I work at the Platinum place, you were there opening night, weren't you? I always notice the tall ones. Did you have fun?"

"Hi, Mae. I'm Itzhak. That's Hebrew for Isaac." Itzhak pulls an expression that's part wince and part wry grin. "Yeah I was there. Friend talked me into getting a lapdance. I had fun?" Like he's not sure. "To be honest I don't go to a lot of strip joints." He looks like the type of guy who does, though. Clearing his throat, he gets both hands in the bike's engine, feeling around in there. "I dunno what he thought, a lot of times people don't think ahead to what they'll get with the adult reptile. Like bearded dragons, those guys are always sold as babies, people don't know they get up to two feet long. Think they can keep 'em in a ten gallon tank all their lives." Rambling about reptiles is how he'll get through this awkward!

"Hi Itzhak, Hebrew for Isaac." Zoiya's eyebrows lift when he grins, she's enjoying this. "You had fun." She repeats this, getting to her feet to drift closer, watching him play with the insides of the bike. "You don't sound like you're sure if you had fun." She stays on the other side of the bike, some people are persnickety about their personal space. "Strip joints are just bars with very warm and soft on-stage entertainment. I think they're better than a regular bar if you're into music." She shrugs, gaze dropping to the bike. Lemondrop gets another look, and then she sighs. "I never had a pet. I'd like to think that if I ever got one, it'd be a snake or a ferret. With how much I work, it'll just be one of those things I think about and never do." She can almost smell the awkward, and it's taking everything not to poke at it.

"I'm into music, but uh, the whole, ladies with clothes off factor is pretty distracting." Itzhak wiggles something in the depths of the bike, gaze going unfocused. "Fuel line seems fine. No leaks, don't smell any gas. Probably the gasket." He gets up. "Roll 'er over to the workbench here would you?" As he heads over to the indicated workbench, all long limbs and swagger, he goes on, "Actually snakes make perfect pets if you're not home a lot. They only eat once a week or so. Lemondrop only eats once a month. They spend a lot of time not doing much. Reptiles are like that, they're all about the conservation of energy. A corn snake would be great, maybe. They're about three to four feet long as adults, slim little things. Real tame, and even if they do bite, they can't do much."

"It's supposed to be distracting, that's how we get tips." Zoiya points out the obvious, probably knowing that Itzhak already knows this as well. She shifts the bike and walks it over to the workbench, leaning it against the stand again. "We'll see. It's a dice roll with my roommate. Some things make him twitchy as fuck, other things just don't seem to bother him at all." She moves back to the chair she had occupied before, sitting down, and crossing her long legs. "So where would a girl get a corn snake if she were so inclined to dip her inked toes into the pet adopting thing?" She reaches back to hold her hair away from the back of her neck, her hair isn't completely dry yet and she doesn't want her shirt damp.

Itzhak laughs, just a sharp exhalation. "Yeah, well, you were distracting as hell. Good job." He gets out tools, glancing aside to Zoiya's arms. "Those are some great tats by the way." His own are on display; he's wearing a tank top. "Well," he kneels next to the bike again, peering into its innards, "probably Seattle. Maybe Olympia, I dunno, place seems pretty podunk. You don't have to go in person, though, there's tons of breeders who will ship 'em to you. They do real well through the mail, funny enough."

With a few swift and very sure moves, he's taking apart the carburetor. This and that get unscrewed. "Okay, yeah, see that? The gasket's cracked. It just happens, they get brittle. I dunno if I have this size, I gotta check."

"I try. Sometimes." Zoiya glances down her left arm, her smile not holding it's usual sardonic edge. "Thanks. Every so often I think I've gone way too far with them, but the reactions I get are mostly positive." She gazes at his arms as he works on the bike. "Where did you get those done? Here in town?" She makes a face when he mentions getting a snake shipped in the mail. "Damn, would you do that to a baby Lemondrop? I've seen the way the post handles some of my packages. Yikes." She watches him pull her bike apart, wincing but leaning in to look at what must be a cracked gasket. He said so. She has no clue. "Check away, and when you come back, I want to see the pomegranates a little closer. If.. you don't mind."

The gasket is just a chunky little rubber lifesaver. It's cracked visibly, but not much so: a few hair-fine lines that would be unnoticeable if Itzhak didn't point them out. He snorts, amused, at Zoiya asking if he'd do that to Lemondrop, and reaches to pull a cardboard box down off a shelf. "I wouldn't do it to a grownup Lemondrop, but seriously, babies and reasonably-sized snakes do fine. There's a whole bunch of technique for packing them and alerting shipping that there's a live animal and stuff like that. Reptiles are so successful because they're adaptable. If you don't like it, though, I'm sure there's a few good shops in Seattle. Oh, one more thing, you gotta be okay with feeding them mice and rats and whatevah. Dead ones. Generally you don't feed them live ones."

Rummage rummage rummage...he pulls out a few gaskets and compares sizes, eyes narrow. Then he flashes a grin, down at the gaskets. "Sure, you can have a look. I paid enough for 'em, they oughta be looked at."

"I'll look into it. Worse thing that could happen is my postman is a huge dick and dumps the package in the bushes or something." Zoiya gets to her feet again, moving to lean on the bike seat, watching Itzhak look through gaskets. "Yeah uh.. that shouldn't be a problem, feeding them mice and rats." She wrinkles her nose, gazing down at her feet. Time to change the subject. "I'm stealing that line, thank you. Next time someone asks me why I'm a stripper I'm gonna tell them that I paid too much for these tattoos not to show them off to the public." She takes a deep breath, turning her head to watch it rain. "You wouldn't know anyone selling a cheap little car that I can motor around in, would you? It's getting to the point where I need to put my baby away until we get another four weeks or so of sun next year."

Itzhak laughs. "I mean, it's true, right? That's why I'm always flashing 'em around." Comically he flexes his forearm, making the tendons pop. "Yeah, good idea, getting something that's covered. You're braver'n most, riding when it rains. I don't know any off the top of my head, but just check over an Auto Trader or something. I'll come check a car out for you, make sure it's not a wreck. Okay, this one should fit." He sets to fitting in the new gasket, fussing with it.

Zoiya looks, she doesn't touch, chuckling at his choice of wording. "Yeah. It's why I'm always.. fla..." She can't finish the sentence, giggling and covering her mouth as she shakes her head back and forth. She nods, hand still over her mouth as he offers to come with her to check out a car and then takes a deep breath. "Awesome. This will have to do until I find a car. I'll get the roomie to poke around on the internet for me, hopefully while I'm at work, so I don't get more google lessons." She taps her fingers on the leather seat. "You ever coming back out to the club, or was that a one and done scenario?"

Itzhak snorts, unavoidably reddening again and pretending real hard like he isn't. He's cleaning the several parts of the disassembled carburetor so he has a great excuse not to look at Zoiya. "Listen, I don't need your lip." He doesn't sound too serious about that though. Just caustic New Yorker-style humor. "Uhhhhhh, is this a trick question? I don't really know what you DO at a strip club. Aside. From. The obvious?"

Having spent her formative years in New York, she snorts softly at his words. "I usually give people a lot more lip, but you got your hands in my ride, and I wouldn't have any clue if you were fucking it up rather than fixing it. So .. you get the good side of me." Zoiya grins down at Itzhak, her head canting slightly as she seemingly decides something. "It's not a trick question. How could I trick you with that? It's very simple. I want you to come back out to the club. I'll buy you a drink." She clears her throat and her voice get quiet. "What is the obvious, hmm? Did I miss something that happened during your lap dance?" She looks wicked for a moment, and then she glances down at the bike to see how the cleaning is going.

"God no, nothing happened!" If Zoiya was hoping for the full beet-red face, she wins: Itzhak blushes all the way down his neck. "Was my first though. Uh, it sure was something. Usually the 'girl takes off her clothes in my lap' thing comes a bit later after I meet the girl." The carburetor gets reassembled, now that it's sparkling clean to his liking, and he kneels to reinstall it. Glancing up, he grins at her kinda crookedly. "Okay. Sure, I'll come by."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Zoiya claps her hands, pushing off of the bike so she can stand beside it instead. "Yeah well, first time is always the hardest. Hopefully the second time will be just as fun and less.. blush inducing?" She pulls her wallet from her purse, opening it up to rifle through the bills inside. "How much do I owe you for the lifesaver?" She asks, reaching out to tickle his neck as he glances up at her, grinning back.

Itzhak flinches, startled. He ducks and waves Zoiya off like she was a wasp. "Hey hey hey, no touching the mechanic while he's working!" Then he scrubs at the spot she tickled like it itches like hell. "Start 'er up," he nods to the motorcycle, "wanna hear how she runs first."

"Just while he's working." Zoiya mutters, smirking as she steps up, throwing her leg over the seat to settle on the bike. She starts it, and it purrs softly, no more funny noises. She runs a hand down down the tank as she bounces happily on the seat. "Oh that sounds so much better." She beams over at Itzhak, eyebrows raised. "How much?" She shrugs off her purse, setting it in front of her on the bike. She pulls a scarf from the purse as well, ready to tie her hair up in it.

Itzhak sets his hand on the headlight. He stares so intently into nothingness that the temptation to look to see what he's looking at might be strong. "Purrin' like a kitten. Ninety bucks. Eighty for labor, ten for the part. Won't even charge you for same-day turnaround." Coming back from wherever he went, he dusts his hand off on his jeans and smirks at Zoiya.

Zoiya does turn her head, gazing vaguely in the same direction as Itzhak for a few beats before she peeks back at his face. She pulls five twenties from her wallet, holding it out toward him. "You're kind of a lifesaver. I'll be in touch if I find a car that looks likely, and I hope to see you back out at the Caberet." She puts her wallet away, gathering her hair into a messy bun before she covers it with the scarf. "I mean, my skill set isn't quite so diverse is yours, but if I can do anything in return. Let me know, yeah?"

Itzhak tucks the bills into a back pocket. "I'll let ya know. Text me when you wanna check out a car, yeah?" He quirks an eyebrow, tipping his head at the open bay door and the drizzle. "You ride careful out there. Don't go donating any body parts too soon."

"Only fast at work." Zoiya says quietly, offering a casual salute, two fingers to her temple. "I'm sure I'll see you around." She deals with the kickstand and eases the motorcycle back out of the bay. She pulls out slowly, and then turns to head back toward Elm without a backward look.