Chapter 8
Sam
Igave AJ some space to get dressed, collapsing into the chair behind my worn wooden desk. Papers were stacked haphazardly, the voicemail light was blinking on my phone, and all I wanted to do was sleep.
Myra, who acted as both dispatch and queen of the office, had left a pile of papers that needed my signature, and I shuffled through them on autopilot.
Paychecks, supplies, fuel, insurance, rent—it was a game of money in and money out, and I was grateful every month that my bottom line was a positive number.
“Knock, knock.” Katie came in and helped herself to a chair.
“How’s it going out there?” I asked her.
“I found AJ some boots. She’s just getting changed.” She paused for a moment, tapping her lip with her index finger. “Maybe we had a little girl talk, but nothing to worry about.”
I shot her a look. Girl talk sounded dangerous. “Glad to hear it, kid, but I meant on the roads.”
She rolled her eyes. “Cars go in the ditch, and I pull them out. It isn’t rocket science, boss.”
I pushed aside the stack of receipts I was considering and propped my elbows on my desk. “Don’t give me that, Katie. It is rough out there, even for me.”
Some of the bravado leaked out of her, and she picked at her cuticle. “It’s a little scary. My nerves are a little shot at the end of the day, but I have my safety gear and chains on my tires. What else can I do?”
I nodded. “A little fear keeps you paying attention. You’re a great driver, kid. Just don’t get cocky. No one gets hurt on my watch.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said with her patented sunshine smile.
Sometimes she seemed like a teenager who needed to be kept in line, but other times, I found I relied on her more than any of my other drivers.
She’d pushed her way through the front door of my garage two years ago asking about a job.
Didn’t call ahead. Didn’t ask questions beyond “When can I start?” How could I not give her a shot after that?
“By the way, when did we start running a taxi service?” Katie crossed one leg over the other, mischief dancing in her eyes. I was about to get the third degree.
“Misunderstanding,” I said, returning my gaze to the papers on my desk and willing the blood from filling my cheeks.
“Misunderstanding?” She sat with the word for a moment. “Would you have given a ride if the misunderstanding hadn’t happened with a pretty girl?”
“You know I help everyone I can,” I said noncommittally.
“You do think she’s pretty then? Sweet, too. Tall and smart, and you have her hostage long enough to work that famous Sam charm.”
I shot her a glare.
“Maybe you can woo her with a lecture about driving to road conditions. Give her a sexy demonstration of hard hats and protective glasses. Oh, oh, or seduce her with talk of how you always buckle your seatbelt.” She collapsed back into the chair giggling, and I resisted the urge to throw her in a snowbank.
“Just make sure you wear protection. Oops, forgot who I was talking to.” Her giggles transformed into some kind of snort, and I pursed my lips.
“Shouldn’t you be behind the wheel of something?” I said, injecting gruffness into my voice. I didn’t have answers to her questions, asked or unasked, and I wasn’t ready to delve too deep into whatever was swirling around my chest for AJ.
She finally composed herself, wiping tears from her eyes before rolling them at me. “My oil light came on. Max is checking it out.”
I picked up a radio on my desk and spoke into it without breaking eye contact with Katie. “Max?”
“Yeah, boss?” Max’s voice crackled back.
“Princess’s truck ready to go?”
“Five minutes.”
“Make it three.”
“I get the idea,” Katie said, standing. “Oh, and boss?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“The brats are here. Jack got stuck in court, so I picked them up from school and brought them here.”
“Where are they?” I asked.
“Bothering Myra on dispatch. You might want to rescue her.”
I nodded, and she flitted out of the room.
I ran my hands through my hair and closed my eyes for a moment.
The paperwork would have to wait. What was I supposed to do with Emma and Oliver until Jack could come get them?
My brother, Jack, and I had been raising Oliver and Emma, with the help of the Safe and Sound Towing staff, since my sister-in-law’s accident a few years ago.
They were affectionately nicknamed the brats.
Jack did his best to manage his caseload, but at the end of the day, he was a dad to twin six-year-olds and a lawyer at a big firm in Vancouver.
Myra was all bark and no bite, but she would only tolerate them running around her office for so long.
As if on cue, the sound of snow pants swishing hit my ears, and two excited faces burst into my office.
“Uncle Sam!”
Their voices were music to my ears, a salve on my tired soul. I pushed out of my chair and grabbed one kid under each arm, spinning around a few times before putting them back on the ground. “I missed you guys. How are you today?”
“I’m hungry,” Emma said.
“Yeah, me too,” Oliver chimed in.
I wished I could bundle them up and take them home.
I wished we could order a bunch of pizzas and fall asleep on the couch while they watched movies.
Most of all, I wished that they still had two parents, rather than an uncle who was out of his element, a father who was buried in grief, and a hodgepodge of devoted friends and family who helped out when needed.
Life didn’t work that way, though, and the best I could do was show up as much as possible and try to fill the void.
“Hungry, huh? Me too. Let’s find a snack.”
The makeshift kitchen at the shop was always stocked with groceries for just such an occasion, and they took off running in that direction.
I clicked off my office light, but before I could follow the kids, Myra bellowed from the end of the hall.
“Sam, the radio is doing that thing again.”
I sighed. “Be right there.”