Chapter Two

Alex wasn’t sure what to expect in an interview for a job as a bicycle courier, but he was expecting more than what he got.  The courier company’s office was a tiny, two-room space in the heart of downtown Minneapolis.  There were four people in the front office, answering phones, when Alex arrived. 

After a couple of minutes, one of them turned and noticed Alex.  She had dyed black hair, a variety of facial piercings, and thick horn-rimmed glasses. 

“Are you here to see Frank about a job?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m Alex Minor,” he said.

“OK, it’ll be just a second,” she said, then turned and shouted at the door to the back office.  “Frank! Fresh meat!”

She then turned back to her desk and resumed making phone calls.

Alex wasn’t quite sure what to make of that little exchange, but figured that this gig promised to be more exciting than working in another office, so he tried not to worry about what kind of a company he was getting himself involved with.

Frank came out of the back office and walked over to Alex. He seemed like he was in a rush.  He was wearing battered sneakers, a pair of khaki pants with frayed cuffs and a green shirt with a truly hideous pattern of flying ducks. 

“Are you Alex?  James’s friend?” Frank said.

It took Alex a second to remember that Marlboro’s real name had been James.  He’d always just been “Marlboro” to Alex.

“Yeah, that’s me.  He said he thought I’d be a good fit for this job,” Alex said.

“He’s a good courier,” Frank said.  “He knows this town inside out.  I swear he knows every little alleyway he can fit a bicycle through, and he hasn’t met the business end of a car yet.  You take whatever advice he’s willing to give you, and you’ll do all right.”

“Wow, cool,” Alex said.  “He and I were in the service together.  He was always a good guy.”

“Yeah, right.  So, Alex, have you got a bicycle?”

Alex was a little surprised they were still just standing chatting in the front office, and not going back into Frank’s office, or a conference room, or something.

“Yeah, I’ve got a bicycle.”

“Get another one that you don’t mind having stolen, ASAP,” Frank said.  “Have you got a cell phone?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alex said.

“Good, is that the number James gave me?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Alex said.

“Good.  Have you got a backpack or something?”

At this point, Alex wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or relieved that he wasn’t being any questions that were more or less, “tell me a bit about yourself.”  It seemed like he had the job if he wanted it.

“Yeah, I’ve got a bag,” Alex said.

“Good.  Look, this isn’t a tough job.  Get yourself a map of Minneapolis tonight.  One of these four will send you a text tomorrow morning with the address where you’ll be picking up a delivery, as well as the address where it’s going.  Ride your bike to the pick up, then ride to deliver whatever it is, then text and let us know you’re ready for another delivery.  You get $2.50 per delivery.  Any questions?”

“How many deliveries can I expect to make in a day?” Alex said.  $2.50 per delivery wasn’t much money.

“Well, that’s going to depend on how much you’re willing to hustle.  If you get out there and move fast, we’ll have more deliveries for you.  Anything else?”

“I guess not.  Sounds pretty doable to me,” Alex said.

“Great.  Be up and ready to ride first thing tomorrow morning,” Frank said and walked back to his office.

Alex blinked a couple of times, and wondered if the interview was over or not.  He waited a couple of minutes to see if Frank was going to come back with some paperwork or something.  After getting a couple of curious glances from the other dispatchers in the front office, he decided that the interview was, in fact, over and that he should probably leave. 

Back in the Mustang, he dig through the glove box to see if he still had a decent map of Minneapolis in there.  He was relieved to find that he did, and it even had a pretty good detailed map of downtown Minneapolis.  One less errand he had to run.

He glanced at the clock.  It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, so he had the rest of the day to himself.  He figured he’d better make sure his bike was more or less in good shape for riding a lot the following day.  The last time he’d had his bicycle out for a ride was a couple of months ago, when he used it to ride to the grocery store for ice cream.  The grocery store was about a mile away from his apartment, and it had been a nice day.  He hadn’t really felt the need to get his bike out since then, so he hoped the tires still had air in them.

Alex wondered for a fraction of a second if taking a job as a bicycle courier was a wise thing to do, considering how little he actually rode his bike, before dismissing the thought.  He’d be able to handle it, no problem.  As long as it was more fun than dealing with the boring, petty, day to day bullshit in an office, it’d be just fine.

Back at his apartment, he noticed his bicycle was covered with a fine layer of dust, and the tires were flat.  A little voice somewhere in the back of his head sang “you’re going to be in a world of pain tomorrow”, but he didn't pay it any mind.

After a couple of minutes with a rag and a tire pump, his bicycle was as good as new.  He was admiring his handiwork when he heard something that made his heart sink.  There was a quiet, almost imperceptible, whistling hiss coming from his bicycle.  Alex leaned over, and confirmed what he was afraid of: the front tire had a leak.  He was going to need to run to the bicycle shop and get a new inner tube.

Then he discovered the back tire wasn’t holding air either.  Make that two inner tubes.  So much for a low-key day.  On the other hand, that was great news.  Nothing was worse than a low-key day.  In Alex’s opinion, being low-key was for when you were sick.  Or dead.  He’d tried taking it easy one weekend, shortly after he’d gotten out of the military, and just about went crazy from the boredom by lunchtime on Saturday.  Somehow he’d wound up in an airplane strapped to a parachute instructor less than two hours later. 

Which was much, much better than being bored.

There was a bicycle store conveniently close to his apartment.  They were part of a chain of stores, and had used advertise extensively on the radio with a particularly grating jingle.  Alex wandered into the store singing the jingle to himself, and promptly forgot why he’d gone there the second he saw the rows of shiny new bicycles waiting for him inside.

An employee had spotted him and came over to chat within seconds.

“Hi there, what are you looking for today?” the employee said.  He was a young guy, maybe a little too eager, with blonde hair and brown eyes.  His nametag said “Todd.”

Alex was still distracted by all the shiny new bicycles. 

“Hi.  I came in, uh, to look at getting a new bike,” Alex said.

“Great, we’ve got plenty of those,” Todd said.  “What kind of bike are you thinking of getting?”

“Something fast.  And easy to maneuver,” Alex said.

On the one hand, he knew that he was there to buy inner tubes, and that a new bicycle really wasn’t in his budget at the moment.  On the other hand, Frank had outright told him that he should get another bike.  He vaguely suspected that he’d be able to write off the new bike on his taxes as a business expense or something. 

And who knew what else might be wrong with his other bike?  It already had flat tires, what other surprises could be waiting to show themselves when he was in the middle of rush hour in downtown Minneapolis with a box of important papers that needed to be delivered to the Swedish Bikini Team or some other high priority client.  That would be catastrophic.

Not buying a new bike would, in fact, be a false economy.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Todd said.  “I have bikes that are fast, light, and super responsive.  Have you got a race coming up?”

A race?  What the hell was Todd talking about?

“No, uh, I’m a bicycle courier,” Alex said.

“Oh, wow.  You’re living the dream, man.  Well, what’s your budget?” Todd said.

Alex hadn’t thought about that at all.  A part of him knew that now was the time to say, “You know, really, I’m just here to get some inner tubes,” buy the tubes and get out of there.  His available budget for a new bike was approximately $50.

“Well, just show me what you have that’s fast,” Alex said.

An hour later, he left the store with three inner tubes, a can of chain lube, a u-lock, some new shoes for clipless pedals, and a brand new dark grey Trek Madone bicycle.

“You’re going to love this bike,” Todd said as he helped Alex load it into the back of the Mustang.  “Be sure to give me a call and let me know how it compares to your old bike for making deliveries.  How long have you been a bike courier, anyway?”

“I’m starting tomorrow,” Alex said.

The bike didn’t quite fit in the Mustang, and Alex had to use a bungee cord to keep the hatchback closed.  He was glad he had such a short drive back to his place. 

“Wow...  Well, this bike is going to treat you great.  Good luck, man,” Todd said.  He went back inside, while Alex got into the Mustang.

Behind the wheel, Alex took a look at the receipt.  He’d just put a hell of a lot of money on his credit card, and he realized he was going to be lucky if he was making $100 per day.  He wondered if he should swallow his pride, bring the bike back inside, and explain that he’d gotten swept up in the excitement, and couldn’t actually afford this bike.  It would be embarrassing for a moment, and Todd might get a little annoyed, but Alex knew that was probably the wisest thing to do.

So, naturally, he started the Mustang and drove home with his sweet new bike.  A craftsman is only as good as his tools, after all.  Having a proper bicycle like this would make it even easier to make deliveries and earn some cash.

When Alex got back to his apartment, he brought his new bicycle inside, leaned it up against the wall next to his old bicycle, and wondered if he should go ahead and replace the inner tubes on the old bike.  He supposed that he should, just so he could have all of his bases covered.  Best to have a back up ready.

He’d managed to get the wheels off, and the inner tubes replaced in about half an hour.  Once he had the wheels back on his old bike, he attached the tire pump, and started inflating the front tire. 

Suddenly, it seemed like it had gotten awfully easy to continue pumping.  Alex glanced up at the wheel, and noticed with horror that the inner tube had somehow worked its way between the tire and the wheel, and a bulge was growing in the exposed inner tube.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Alex muttered quickly.  He lunged forward to try and get the nozzle off of the stem and start deflating the tire, just in time for the inner tube to burst.  It was a loud as a firecracker when it popped, and Alex fell over backwards in surprise.

One of his neighbors started pounding on the wall.

Alex sat, shocked, for a minute.  He couldn’t quite believe that had happened.  Then he started laughing. 

 
He hadn’t even started his new job yet, and it was already more fun than the last one.