Chapter Fourteen

Trig

Wes arriving at my shop is about as much cause for concern as Jane showing up. It’s a Friday afternoon an hour before closing. I narrow my eyes but he ignores me. He waves at a few of the guys and cracks a joke with Eddie. He doesn’t even like Eddie. Something’s fishy but I can tell it’s going to be some work to get it out of him.

“How’s business, Trig. You got, what… six guys working for you?”

I’ve been engine and gotten nothing except bruised and torn-up knuckles. I toss the wrench to my work table. Why in the hell is my brother here, acting like we didn’t eat together just a few days ago?

“I have eight men.”

Wes nods. “Well, how about that?”

My brother has taken on his wife’s speech patterns. We were watching football the other day, me and Wes and the four boys, and a receiver for the Packers made this unbelievable catch on the sidelines to set up the game winning field goal. The play was incredible, in the top five plays I’ve ever seen, and what does he call it? A humdinger. He refuses to use perfectly good words like Fucking A, Holy Shit and You gotta be shitting me. Or even better, You gotta be fucking shitting me. He won’t even say fart and damn anymore. Instead he says toot and darn. Sometimes he’ll say gosh darn for emphasis.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Sure is. Just thought I’d pop in and say howdy.”

My brother and I have always been close, but after the accident we grew even closer. Often, I can tell what he’s thinking or what he’s getting ready to say but today I have no idea what he’s doing here. He’s still dressed in a suit and tie. Me? I’m covered in oil and smell like I always do at the end of the day. Pretty fucking bad.

“You’ve done well here, Trig. It’s a lot busier than when Dad had it.”

I wipe my hands on my pants to try to get rid of some of the oil. “Work’s good. I like it.”

He gazes at me for a long moment. It always bothered him that I didn’t go on to college. Guilt, I suppose. But I really do like my work. I’d much rather work in a garage than sit at a desk all day. I’m lean and fit and make good money fixing semi-trucks. More money than he makes. Not that I’d tell him that. In fact, we almost never talk about our work. Wes and me live in different worlds during the day.

“Got some good news today. About Maggie,” he says. “She’s been accepted to Stowe. School starts in a week.”

“I pretty much assumed she’d get in.”

“She’ll be eligible for work-study. She’ll have to interview of course.”

I snort. If she wants to get hired, she’ll need to clean up her act. She doesn’t swear nearly as much as she used to, but still. College profs won’t want to hire a potty-mouthed brat.

“It would sure help if she had some sort of job history.” He sighs.

I squint at him. Job history. Now I see where this is going. Maggie needs a job. No way is he going to ask me what I think he’s going to ask.

“I heard Mel’s out for a few more weeks. Maybe Maggie could fill in,” Wes offers.

A memory flashes through my thoughts. New Year’s Eve I’d tossed her over my shoulder, smacked her ass and laid her down on the boys’ pallet. What the actual fuck I was thinking I can’t say, but I’ve regretted it every day since then.

The lecture I gave her that night ended a lot differently than I’d expected. Maggie’s been acting strangely ever since. Either she ignores me completely or I’ll feel her watching me, trying to size me up. Wondering.

Now she’s in my dreams every night. She’s young and vulnerable. I shouldn’t think about her that way but I do. It feels like a betrayal. Wes wouldn’t be asking me to give her a job if he knew the dirty things I was imagining this morning in the shower. And he might find his man-talk again. There’s nothing like flinging out a few fucks and assholes to express what you’re really thinking.

I shake my head. “I don’t know, man. Some of the guys here, they’re pretty rough.”

“Can’t you talk to them?”

Yes, I could. I’ve done more than talk to them before. They’re a brutal group. Jesse and Rick have done time for armed robbery. It was ten or twelve years ago, but still. None of them will hesitate to throw a punch if they get pissed off. Not at me, of course. I’d wipe the shop with them if they ever tried, but they fight between themselves over dumb shit. Things can get a little intense around here.

One thing’s for sure. I don’t want them looking at her. Thinking things about her.

“You’ll have to take the posters down,” Wes says, scanning the walls of the garage.

I have ten bays. The men each have their own and I have two. Each guy can put whatever he wants to on his walls, pictures of their kids or girl-friends or wives. Most have a poster with a chic in a bikini or tiny cut-offs. I don’t even notice them anymore, but I can imagine the grumbling if I had them take down their calendars and posters.

“You know I’d do anything for Maggie,” I tell him. “But I don’t want her down here.”

Wes turns to face me. “You know nothing makes me prouder than when one of the kids does something good. When they achieve a goal or win. The boys have done great, but not one of them has blossomed like Maggie. She’s a different girl.”

It’s true. She’s changed. Her hair is still jet black, but she wears different clothes and smiles and talks.

“They told us she was a “flight risk”. Wes makes quote marks with his fingers. “But she’s never even tried to run.”

I clear my throat, grateful she’s not here to roll her eyes or scoff at that remark. The day I took her to my house and threatened bad and dark things has been our little secret. Flight risk. The phrase twists my heart. It makes me want to punch something to think how easily she might have slipped away.

“She’s come so far and I couldn’t be prouder.” Wes puts his hand on my shoulder. “I just want to see that kid win. Ya know?”

Yeah. I know. Shit…I am so fucked. He knows I can’t say no. “How long?”

“A few weeks. A month max.”

Closing my eyes, I draw a deep breath. “Okay.”

“And you need to make it look like it’s your idea.”

“Of course.”

Obviously. Maggie would be spitting nails if she knew I was doing this to be nice. That girl’s got stubborn pride and would rather do without than receive help.

“Right. Got it.”

“And they might ask you for a reference down the road, so you’d have to say nice things about Maggie.”

I sigh. How did I walk into this? “That’s not a problem. I’ll say nice things about her. Assuming she does a good job.”

I know she’ll do a spectacular job. She operates like a battlefield general when she helps Jane with the boys. Every cupboard, drawer and closet in the house is tidy and organized and that sure as hell wasn’t Jane. Maggie has the kids hopping, sorting laundry, getting homework done, keeping their rooms tidy. I know she’ll have things running better than Mel ever thought about.

The smile on my brother’s face is a mile wide, like he just scored the winning touchdown. He doesn’t even say good-bye. He just gives me a goofy look, turns on his heel and hurries out of the garage. I can hear him on his phone as he crosses the parking lot and he’s telling Jane how he talked me into a job for Maggie. He sounds incredulous. Which pretty much sums up how I’m feeling.