6. Blake
Blake
“I sn’t it child slave labor to use me to rebuild this hunk of junk?” Mina asks as she wipes the grease from her hands with a shop rag. She’s a 16-year-old who has just moved from karts to open-wheeled cars. Her goal is to one day win the Indy 500, and my knowledge of cars makes me the perfect person to mentor her.
“You’re learning how each part of the car works and what purpose it serves, Mina. This knowledge will help you understand your vehicle and recognize the signs if something goes wrong. Additionally, it can save you a significant amount of money in labor costs if you manage to fix a problem yourself.”
“I’m going to be rich enough to afford it,” she retorts. “I’m going to be just like you and become a billionaire.”
I sigh. “I have no doubt that you’ll make that happen. I have every confidence you’ll accomplish whatever you set your mind to.” I don’t bother explaining that it’s not me who’s wealthy. Like Ryder said, I will be one day, even if I don’t care about the money.
“If you’re so good with cars, Blake, how come you don’t race? Why did you stop after karts?” It’s a question I’ve been expecting since we were paired up three weeks ago.
“I race my brother all the time, and just this afternoon, I beat both him and Ryder at Harris Hill. You don’t have to be a professional to enjoy a sport, Mina. It’s the competitive spirit that drives you to succeed in whatever you choose to do. Is there anything beyond the Indy 500 that you wish to achieve?”
She hooks the chains to the engine block as we prepare to lift it out of the vehicle. “My parents want me to go to college, but I’m not sure it’s the right fit for me. I enjoy cars, Blake. I know I joke around and give you a hard time, but I really enjoy learning and working on this project with you. I also love changing the oil and tinkering under the hood with my dad.”
“It’s important to please your parents, but also to do what’s right for you,” I tell her. “Find out why it’s important to your parents for you to go to college. Once you understand their motivation, you’ll be in a better position to make an informed decision.”
I rotate the crank on the hydraulic lift, and together, we watch the engine slowly rise. Mina half-heartedly shrugs. “They want what every parent wants for their child: to be financially stable and get a good job. They don’t want me to ‘pinch pennies’ all of my life like they’ve had to do. I’ve tried to tell them that going to college doesn’t guarantee that, and that less than half the graduates have jobs in their field of study. Why waste their money on an education I’m probably not going to use? I don’t want them to go into debt over the idea that college is some magic pill. What should I do?”
As I continue to crank, I pause to consider how to phrase my thoughts in a way that won’t send her parents rushing over here to yell at me. “I recommend having a conversation with your parents about your desires. But—and this is a big but—you should have a plan for how you intend to achieve your goals. It should be well thought out. For instance, there are trade schools for becoming an automotive mechanic, and apprenticeships are available to learn on the job while you attend school, Mina. If you ever want to own an auto shop when your racing career concludes, you could pursue a business degree at the local community college or online. Auto mechanics earn a good income, and you get to do what you love. Regardless of your choice, have a plan so that your parents don’t feel like you are arguing with them just to argue like so many teenagers do.”
Mina helps me move the lift toward the back of the room and out of the way. “I hadn’t thought about trade schools. My counselors at school are like my parents, always pushing college as the pathway to enlightenment. I feel more enlightened after this one conversation.”
“Trade schools are often undervalued because they involve tough jobs. Yet, they are jobs that pay well since very few people are willing to do them. However, depending on your goals, college may also be a good option. Remember that the other half of the graduates do find jobs in their chosen fields. I’m not trying to sway you in any direction, Mina, because that’s not my place. Your parents genuinely want what’s best for you and believe college is the answer. It’s up to you to show them that there are various paths leading to the same destination.”
“What happened? Did a freak storm come through and soak you to the bone? You’re sopping wet,” I say as I walk up to Ryder and Trevor, both of whom are drenched in sweat.
Trevor laughs. “No, although Ryder could use a long shower. He stinks.”
“You don’t exactly smell like roses, either,” Ryder retorts.
I pick up Trevor’s backpack off the bench and dangle it in front of him, reminding the kid that schoolwork is just as important as playing sports. Trevor will find any reason to procrastinate. “Do you have any homework?”
Trevor takes the bag and sets it right back down on the bench. “It’s all done. Ryder said that mental workouts are equally as important as physical ones and wouldn’t shoot hoops with me until my schoolwork was done. He even helped me with my Algebra, so I’m all good.” His phone dings with a text that diverts his attention. Once he checks it, he grabs his backpack and hefts it over his shoulder. “That’s my mom. She’s waiting out front, so I gotta bounce!”
I stand idly by as Trevor and Ryder fist-bump one another, and then Ryder whispers some final words before the kid takes off.
“What did you say to him?” I ask as Trevor’s form disappears into the building.
Ryder wipes away the last vestiges of sweat from his body. “I just reminded him to thank his mother for all she does since she works three jobs, and to give her a hug.”
“You seem to be getting the hang of this mentoring thing pretty quickly. I thought you weren’t good with kids,” I say, impressed with how quickly he and Trevor have bonded. “I’ve heard that getting him to do homework is usually quite the battle. He’d rather be outside than doing math.”
He shakes his head. “It was bribery, pure and simple—tit for tat. I remember what it was like to be his age, and as much as I loathed doing homework, I couldn’t play sports unless I had good grades.”
“Well, it worked, and that’s what matters. What got you into playing basketball? I thought you were….”
“Stealing cars in my spare time?” he asks, but not with any malice or hint of resentment for my assumption.
“If I’m being honest, that’s precisely what I was thinking.”
Ryder walks toward the main building to escape the blaring sun. “You wouldn’t be the first to do so, and I doubt you’ll be the last. I spent many of my nights doing just that, but after school, I played sports and studied at the library for as long as I could to avoid being at home. My dad couldn’t drag me into his shady dealings if I wasn’t around.”
Sensing that this is a topic that might be sensitive to Ryder, I decide to drop it and change the subject. “Is the invitation for dinner still on the table?”
The surprise on his face is warranted since I’m equally surprised by my eagerness to spend more time with him. I had no plans to get involved with Ryder, but he fascinates me, and I haven’t stopped thinking about him for the past two days. In the short time I’ve known him, I’ve already seen a side of him that the media ignores. Oh, he has an arrogant streak, but underneath is a man who just wants to be accepted for who he is, not what his family is known for. If anyone can relate to that, it’s me.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Blake. I shouldn’t have asked you to dinner.”
I take a step back in shock. “Why? Is it because my brother forbade us from spending time together? Because he does not get to dictate who I can and cannot be around,” I huff. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“My father,” he replies, his voice devoid of emotion. “Teague may not be able to dictate your actions, but his words have power over mine. My father gets out of prison in less than six months, and if he sees us together, you could become a target for retribution. Your brother ”
I open the door before Ryder and pause just inside the building. I spin around and face him, more determined than ever to get to know this man and find out what makes him tick. “That gives you six months to figure out how you are going to live your life, but all I’m asking for is an hour. I’d like you to come to dinner with my family.”
A tiny glint of mischief flashes in his eyes, and if I had blinked, I would have missed it. “I haven’t taken you on a proper date, yet you’re already inviting me to meet the family?”
My eyes roll in my head involuntarily. “It’s not a date, Ryder. You wanted to discuss Play It Forward, and my father will want an update on how your first day went. I’m not inclined to talk about you behind your back, and you have the right to answer any questions he may have for you. You don’t have to come, but I thought you might want to.”
He inhales deeply and then scrunches his nose. “Do I have time to stop by my place and take a shower? My place is less than five minutes from here.” He takes a quick sniff of his underarms to verify the offensive smell is wafting from his body. “If I were any riper, you could make banana bread out of me.”
I chuckle. “I live ten miles north of Shuckley, and it would be out of my way to go home since Dad lives west near Austin. Is it okay if I ride with you and you drop me off back here on your way home?”
He gestures for me to lead the way. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”
The inside of a home often reflects a person’s personality, and I’m eager to gain some insight into who Ryder Stone is. Does he have pretentious art on the walls, family photos, or are they bare? What colors are they painted? Is his furniture designed for aesthetics or comfort? Is his home clean or messy? I have so many questions, and there’s only one way to get answers. “There’s no point in taking two cars if we’re going to the same place. Thank you.”
A few minutes later, the dihedral doors of the blue McLaren 750S Spider shift and slide upward, inviting me inside. It never gets old watching the car open like a spaceship, and I always imagine dry ice billowing smoke like the 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 from Back to the Future after a time jump.
I glide my hands over the racing seats as Ryder gets in on the driver’s side and puts on a pair of aviators. “You look like Tom Cruise in Days of Thunder.”
Ryder tilts his head toward me and gives me a smile that makes my heart pitter-patter and thump against my ribcage. “Except I’m eight inches taller.” He starts the engine as the doors close, trapping me inside. “Are you ready to see my humble abode?”
I press the button to roll down the window and hang my head out the window. “Yes, because the sooner you get that shower, the better.”
Once we’re outside the city limits, I brace myself for Ryder to press the gas and put on a burst of speed. However, he drives five miles per hour under the limit, and a few cars honk and go around us. I twist around in my seat, looking for any reason as to why he would be going so slow. “Uh, Ryder? Why are you driving like my grandma?”
“Because I want to keep my license. I’ve been pulled over twice near Baggersville—a small town to our east. The first time, I was let off with a warning because the Sheriff’s daughter was in the passenger seat. The second time, I wasn’t so lucky; I received a hefty fine and probation.”
“The Sheriff’s daughter? Is she your girlfriend?” I ask, the words tasting as sour as lemons on my tongue. I don’t know why, since I’m not interested in Ryder like that. Who am I kidding? I’m definitely interested in getting to know Ryder.
He laughs. “Her name is Elise, and no, we aren’t dating. She and her high school sweetheart, Ace, are madly in love with one another. They’re part of Cornhole for a Cause, which is another organization that works with youth in the community.”
“Oh, I think I’ve heard of that organization. Do you think some of the players would like to join us for the Shuckley stop on the Annual Tour in a few weeks? There will be competitions in professional sports, but it will also feature a big barbecue with some backyard games like sack races, horseshoes, and….”
“Badminton?” he jokes.
The tick, tick, tick of his turn signal comes on as Ryder turns right into a community of newly-constructed homes. A few seconds later, we find ourselves at the end of a cul-de-sac lined with several ranch-style houses that look nearly identical except for a few small differences and the colors. It’s not until a garage door opens to the gray house, that I know which one is his. “You weren’t kidding when you called it a ‘humble abode.’”
The doors on the car open and I get out, my mouth forming a smile as I take in the garage full of car parts. He unlocks the door that leads from the garage to the interior of his house and waits for me to join him. “I’m guessing it’s not what you were expecting,” he states, reading my facial expression with accuracy.
“From the outside, it’s absolutely charming! I want a tour!” I exclaim.