Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
RILEY
My ego is bruised.
Nat apologized for being attracted to me, which drudges up long-buried feelings of rejection.
The men I dated in the aviation maintenance industry were a little too condescending. They had this way of talking down to me, like I was a baby splashing around in a pool.
I had equal trouble dating men outside of the trade. I was always pretty enough to hit on… until they found out I fixed planes for a living. Then all of a sudden, they couldn’t get over me being a ‘tomboy’.
I know Nat isn’t like those guys, but it hurts.
Especially because, deep inside, there’s still a part of me that yearns to be recognized by him. Thankfully, he kills that little sliver of longing really early on in our conversation.
‘I’m her brother.’
Pfft.
That bozo.
If anything today just proved how far I’ve come. Talking to him as an adult today, it suddenly hit me that Nat doesn’t care about me as a person. He was standing in front of me, apologizing for the misunderstanding, not because of me but because I’m Chris’s little sister.
That’s it.
That’s all I am to him.
It’s all I ever was.
None of the impactful moments I remember from my delusional, one-sided romance means anything to him.
That one time I got hurt playing at the park and he carried me, piggyback style, all the way home.
Or that time he went after the little boys who called me pizza face for my acne—it was just him taking up for Chris’s little sister.
I should have faced Nathan the first day I saw him in Lucky Falls. I was ducking and hiding, thinking that I’d be the same awkward little girl in front of him. Thinking old feelings would burst back to life.
As if.
Years have gone by, but I’m the only one who’s changed.
Nat hasn’t.
He’s still treating me like a clueless little girl.
“So you grew up with Nathan Campbell?” Jimmy is grinning from ear to ear. “What was it like?”
“Where are Carlos and Blade?” I grumble, checking my watch and dodging the question.
“They’ll probably turn up soon.”
That’s not the answer I’m looking for. I expect the mechanics to be here by seven a.m.
It is now eight fifteen. Unacceptable.
“Jimmy, since you’re here, let me show you the logbooks we’ll be using. From now on, I want you to log every task and bring it to me to sign off.”
“Whatever you want, boss.”
Jimmy follows me as I walk to my ‘office’. It’s a cramped room in the back with a file cabinet and a desk, no windows, and no pictures on the wall. It’s fine though, as I don’t plan on spending a lot of time here. I want to be right on the floor with my crew.
“A bummer what happened to his leg, no?” Jimmy shakes his head.
I have no idea what he’s talking about first.
“Campbell?” Jimmy clarifies.
I tighten my fingers on the logbook as memories of that awful day fill my head.
I heard the news about Nat’s accident along with the rest of the country and my entire world blinked out of focus.
Chris flew straight out and spent a solid week in the hospital with Nat. He told me that Nat kept smiling and telling everybody that he’d play hockey again, but the doctors were very skeptical. It’s a miracle that he’s back in skates.
“Sad that he’ll have to retire soon too,” Jimmy says. “He had such potential.”
“Who told you Nat’s retiring?”
When I was lightly stalking, I mean… looking him up online yesterday, I found an article about Nat and the Lucky Striker’s training camp. Once the training is over, he’ll get to play hockey alongside a big name like Chance McLanely.
“It’s obvious he won’t get picked,” Jimmy says.
I shoot to my feet. “Obvious to whom?”
“Ah, no one. Forget I said anything.” Jimmy glances away and scratches his nose.
“Why wouldn’t the Lucky Strikers draft Nathan? He’s an incredible player with tons of experience. He’s the only one on the training roster who’s been drafted to the league.”
“Yeah but that was before. Before his accident. Before rehab. Before his entire leg got messed up.”
My nostrils flare and I wish I had kept the broom so I could throw it at Jimmy. Not that it’d be a good decision given the current labor laws…
I speak through gritted teeth. “Nat wouldn’t join the camp if his leg was a problem.”
Jimmy shrugs carelessly. “Maybe he lied.”
My voice climbs. “Even if Nat lied about his condition, the truth would come out eventually. He wouldn’t be that stupid.”
Besides, Nat isn’t a liar. He came all the way down here just to apologize for possibly making me uncomfortable. It was my fault for not telling him who I am and he’s the one who apologized.
That’s the kind of man he is.
“Doesn’t matter.” Jimmy scratches his scraggly beard. “What matters is that he’s got a weakness.” The old man taps his leg three times. “You can’t have any flaws on the ice.”
“Flaws?” I choke.
“Say it’s the last few minutes of the championship and Campbell has the lead. One hit to the leg,” Jimmy mimes a golf swing and I cringe, “and bam. Championship’s over. Morale’s down. Medic’s are being called.”
I turn my face away and squeeze my eyes shut. “That won’t happen.”
“But it could.”
“It won’t.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But every team wants the best shot at winning. That’s why no coach, no team captain, no manager worth his salt would let Campbell anywhere near their starting line.”
My nostrils flare.
My hands tremble.
Jimmy’s dead wrong.
Even as an eighteen year old boy, Nathan Campbell knew exactly what he wanted in life. He worked his butt off to get drafted and he was the rookie everyone was eyeing after Chance McLanely got kicked out of the league.
The problem is the Lucky Strikers team manager. Does he think the same as Jimmy? That’s what scares me.
The sound of laughter and conversation filter from the front. My attention snags there.
Carlos and Blade have arrived.
“Looks like the rest of the gang is here,” Jimmy confirms, craning his neck to see outside.
The old man is smiling.
I’m not.
I stomp out of the office and both Carlos and Blade stop talking.
“Uh-oh. What has boss lady’s pant—” Blade sees my wrathful glare and wisely amends his language, “skirt in a twist?”
“You’re late.”
Carlos exchanges a glance with Blade. The two of them have a silent conversation before the thick man approaches me with arms outstretched.
“Sorry, boss. It won’t happen again. Just relax, alright? It’s not that serious.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Carlos. Since it’s not serious, both you and Blade can stay back exactly,” I check my watch, “one hour after closing time.”
“One hour!” Carlos balks.
“Why should we?” Blade demands.
“It’s either that or I dock your pay an hour.”
“That’s not fair!” Blade yells.
“Fair?” I give both of them a hard stare. “This shop has rules and by choosing to continue to work here, you have agreed to those rules. I made it clear that technicians should arrive at seven on the dot.”
“But the shop opens at eight,” Blade whines.
“Customers arrive at eight. If we’re to receive customers, how can we walk into work at the same time they’re walking into the shop?”
Blade scoffs.
Carlos looks away.
Jaw tight enough to break at least seven of my teeth, I swing to Jimmy.
He straightens like a rod’s attached to his back. “Boss?”
“Bring the logbooks. I’m going to walk everyone through our new system of operation.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jimmy scampers off while Carlos slinks to the other side of the mechanic bay. Blade cuts me a dark look as he puts headphones in his ears.
“Do you have something to say?” I challenge, my voice tight.
It’s unprofessional of me to address him right now. I’ve said all I need to say and, at this point, I’m just inviting a fight.
But after what Jimmy said about Nat, I don’t think I’d mind one.
Blade’s nostrils flare and I can see the annoyance in the kid’s eyes but, eventually, he looks down. “No, ma’am.”
I accept the logbook from Jimmy and gather my reluctant mechanics for a training session. Nobody seems excited about the structure I’m putting in place, but so what? If Nat can fight like crazy to get on the Lucky Striker’s team, then I can turn this garage around.
Or die trying.