Unsteady (The Torqued Trilogy Book 1) (4 page)

How do you know when you’re in over your head?

It’s actually pretty simple.

If anyone were to look at the line of cars out the door and the mound of paperwork on my toolbox, they’d see exactly what I’m talking about. It’s also not helping that I have a brother not showing up for work on time because he’s fucking out late again, or my sister riding my ass because the guys in the shop suddenly forgot how to fill out time cards.

See? Pretty simple.

The afternoon sun blares through the open shop doors, blinding me as it hits the top of my toolbox. Sweat trickles down my back from my black shirt attracting the sun. It’s only June and already in the nineties. I can just imagine what July and August are going to be like.

I stare at the sheet in my hand wishing we had air conditioning in the shop. “Where’s this car at?” I ask, holding up a repair order for a Camry that’s supposed to be in my stall right now and hoping someone answers me.

Colt, whose stall is right beside mine, gives me a blank stare, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know, man.”

Colt and I don’t always get along. He once said to me, “You’re controlling, dictating, callous, and have expectations we can’t meet.”

It was last week.

And then I thought, that’s ridiculous. Absurd. But I have to agree, it’s a totally accurate assessment of who I’ve become in the last month.

Days like this, everywhere I look I’m reminded of my father’s presence in this shop and the hard work he put in day after day to keep it running. I’m also reminded I’m doing a fairly shitty job of keeping it going.

Every bay has a car in it. Some have been here for days as we wait for parts or whatever else we need to finish them up. I don’t know how the hell he managed to keep everything running smoothly for so long.

Around noon, fucking noon, when his shift starts at eight, Rawley comes walking in with his guitar around his back and last nights wrinkled shirt on. “Nice of you to show up, asshole,” I mutter when he walks by me.

I almost envy Rawley’s ability to no care.

He squints his eyes, making them look black under his dark brows. Widening his arms, he smirks. “Hey, I showed up, didn’t I? Why you gotta take everything so serious all the time.”

Yeah, I know, I’m an asshole. Believe me, I know this. And if I didn’t, I’d be reminded. Daily.

“Is this a fucking joke to you?” I grab him by his arm before he can escape me. “Don’t fucking walk away from me. Everyone else can get here on time. You start at eight. Be here at eight. If you can’t handle playing in your so-called garage band and getting here on time for your shift, then don’t waste my time.”

Rawley’s icy brown eyes scan the shop and then land on me. “Fuck you.” He rips his arm from mine. “You’re not my father.”

I laugh, once, and keep my eyes level with his. “You didn’t listen to him either. It’s time for you to grow up. This place is falling to shit, and we need help. It’s a family business, and we’re all pulling our weight for a business
our
father created. I know you pulled this shit on dad, but it’s not going to work with me. You either get here on time, or you find someplace else to work.”

Rawley shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “God forbid anybody pisses off
Red
. I thought you were difficult before dad died, but since then, you’ve become impossible. You think you’re the only one that has stress.”

“What stress do you have?” I practically yell, causing all the guys to stop and stare at us. “You fucking wash cars and change oil. You don’t have anything to worry about but getting here on time. But you can’t. You show up when you want, you live at home. It’s really not that hard, is it?”

Rawley’s certainly never been one to back down to me. He’s actually incapable of it. Growing up in the same house, he purposely used to piss me off for his own entertainment. “It’s not my fault you’re doing this shit on your own. It’s not my fault your wife died. Quit blaming everyone else for your shit.” He throws his arms up and then lets them fall dramatically. “I’m so tired of you thinking you’re better than everyone. You’re an arrogant dickhead who walks around here barking orders and expecting everyone and everything to fall into place. You’re not the only one who lost Dad. We lost him too. Stop thinking the weight of the world is on you only.”

All right, there’s certainly some truth to what he’s saying, but I’m not going to agree with him.

What I am going to do is teach this little fucker a lesson, right here and now. Not because he called me a dickhead. That’s daily. But the fact that he brings up my wife is what has me living up to my nickname.

Rawley’s jaw clenches and for a minute, I think he’s gonna take a swing at me, wouldn’t be the first time, but something distracts him, and he looks over my shoulder, his eyes unfocused. “Whatever.” And then he begins to walk away.

I reach for him, fisting my hands in his shirt. That’s when mom screams for me to let go of him. “Red, that’s enough. Rawley, get to work. Red, knock it off.”

Turning around, I notice she’s glaring at me too. I’ll never understand it, but she babies that asshole like he can do nothing wrong.

“You wanna know why I don’t go to church?” Colt asks as my mom retreats back to the office.

Rolling my eyes, I draw in a deep breath and stare at Colt. “Because they won’t allow you to?”

“Sorta,” he muses, and then eyes me carefully. “I don’t believe in being a hypocrite. Most people who go to church and preach God to me, they’re some of the biggest hypocrites I’ve ever met.” Our eyes meet. Maybe he might be talking about me. What the fuck? I’m no hypocrite. “They go through their week, fucking people over, lying… cheating, just dirty shit. And then they go to church on Sunday, beg for forgiveness and think that’ll make it better. It don’t fuckin’ work like that.”

“Is there a point to this?” I ask, picking up another repair order on my toolbox.

“Uh, yeah. Don’t judge someone just because they sin differently than you.”

“I’m not the one showing up late for work every morning. He is. What does this have to do with me?”

“What are we going to do?” Colt asks, tipping his beer back as if his sinning church comment was never made. It’s the middle of the goddamn day, and he’s drinking, which is no surprise to anyone. Pushing fifty, Colt’s set in his ways and he claims having a beer midday helps take the edge off the work day. I also tend to think it’s the only way he can go home at night. Half shitfaced to deal with his crazy-ass wife.

Colt rubs the side of his head. “There’s no way we can keep this place running if things keep going like they’re going. Without Lyric around, this place is going to shit.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, man,” I grumble, tossing the repair order on my toolbox.

Colt’s been working here for as long as the shop’s been open since the early 90s, so I listen to what he’s saying, even when I don’t want to. If anything, he knows what’s best for it too. And my dad trusted him.

There’s some truth to what Colt is saying, but I also know my dad had faith we would keep the shop running. Since I was just a kid, about Nova’s age, this shop has been the only repair shop in Lebanon. I’ll be damn sure it’s kept that way.

As I’m standing near the doors scanning the parking lot for a white Camry, Tyler walks up to stand beside me, waiting for me to talk to him. It’s his simple way of knowing when I need to vent, and I do a lot of it these days. I never thought I’d be put in this position. Though I did know if something ever happened to my dad, his intentions were to leave this all to me because I was the oldest and showed the most interest in the shop.

Also, with Rawley and Raven only being nineteen, they just weren’t ready for something like this. Hell, I didn’t even think I was ready but I’m the only one with his shit together.

“I think it’s time I hire someone to help us out. We’re drowning,” I tell Tyler. Walker Automotive would be here long after my father’s presence in this world was gone. I would make sure of it; even if I didn’t know how that was going to happen. I gesture toward a Ford truck parked in my dad’s bay, the last thing he worked on. “We need to get the fuel pump in Dan’s truck. He knows what happened, but I don’t want him waiting any longer.”

“I know someone,” Tyler says, leaning against his lift beside us, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest. “A mechanic that is.”

Tyler’s been my best friend since we were smart-ass kids racing cars through the streets and getting thrown in jail when we landed one in the sheriff’s front yard. He’s two years younger than me and I wouldn’t be lying if I said I’m probably the one who corrupted him and his need for speed.

I think for a moment, but then I know he wouldn’t steer me wrong on this one.

“Yeah? Who?”

“Lennon Reeves. Been working at a shop in Oklahoma for the last few years.”

Lennon?
I’d never heard him mention that guy before. Like I said, Tyler and I have known each other a long time, and we mostly know the same people.

“Any good?”

“
Really
good. Fuck, man, better than me even.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Grew up working on cars. Dad was a mechanic too.”

“Okay, well, send ‘em by Monday. If he’s as good as you say, he has the job already. I don’t have time to interview anyone.”

Tyler’s brow pulls together, and he looks over his shoulder at the office, smiling. “Yeah, will do.”

I want to ask him why the hell he’s smiling, but the truth is I don’t give a shit. I assume he’s probably waiting on Daniel, our lube guy, to come back with the parts for the race car in his stall. “What do you have going on over there?”

Tyler groans and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ Daniel smashed the shit out of that thing over the weekend. Gotta replace the rear axle and then it’ll be out of here.” And then he smiles. “Help me out tonight?”

“Sure.” Walker Automotive has been sponsoring Daniel’s car for about a year. We do all the work on the car in exchange for free advertising. I’m starting to think Daniel has the better end of the deal considering how he drives his fucking car like it’s a pinball bouncing off walls and shit.

“Red!” Mom yells out the door from the office. “I need you for a sec, honey.”

“Yeah, Ma! Give me a minute.” I turn to Tyler, only he’s gone, heading toward the race car.

Mom smiles the moment I’m in the office with her and Raven. My whole family works for Walker Automotive. It’s been a family effort since day one. It’s the same next door at my Uncle Hendrix’s body shop where my cousins work the business with their father. If you didn’t like family, you had no choice here. It was a good thing we liked each other most days.

“Hey, Red,” Raven says, standing with a pile of papers and then tosses them at me. “Tell Tyler I’m looking for him. He didn’t call that customer with the blazer back, and he wants to know where his damn car is.”

I wave her off as usual and knock her stapler off the counter. “You go tell him. He’s in there.”

She pushes against my chest, her nose scrunching just like she does when she’s about to tell me off. But first, she picks the stapler up and puts it back in the exact spot it was, even adjusts it a few times to be sure. She’s fucking OCD as hell. Everything has a place, and she’s insistent it stay this way.

“Not my job. You’re the boss man.” She smacks my arm. “You tell him.”

She’s impossible.

I nod and look toward my mother when Raven’s out the door. “What am I doing wrong here? How did Dad do all this?”

Mom shakes her head, tenderly smiling and moves the stapler about an inch, just to fuck with Raven too. “It’s not that you’re doing anything wrong. It’s just that your dad was a business man. He knew how to run a business. You’re still learning.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “So if I were
Lyric Walker
… what would I do?”

Her cheeks warm as if hearing his name sends her heart racing. I know the feeling. “Before he passed, he talked about hiring another mechanic. Maybe it’s time we do that?”

“Yeah, Tyler and I were just talking about that. He said he was gonna send somebody by and see if they might work out.”

Mom nods and hands me an application she dug out of the cabinet. “Tell him to give this to him and have it filled out before he comes by.”

I take the application from her. “Always prepared.”

My mom smiles then winks at me. “It’s why I run the books, son.” She then hands me my phone. I must have left it in here earlier when I was grabbing a cup of coffee. “Elle called. Nova apparently punched a kid. She wants you to go pick her up.” My mouth gapes open, though I’m not at all surprised she hit someone. My little scrapper is notorious for landing some mean right hooks. I’ve been behind a few. “Want me to go get her?”

Drawing in a heavy breath, I shake my head. “No, I’ll go. I’ve apparently lost a Camry anyway.”

“Oh.” She holds up a receipt. “That car left this morning. Colt finished it.”

That bastard. I specifically asked him where it was.

Outside the office, I push Colt and throw the repair order from the Camry at him. “Finish the paperwork.”

He laughs. “Whoops. There’s that car.”