Chapter 2
SHYANNE
“Can you send Dominic in here?” I said over the speakerphone on my desk.
“Sure thing, boss lady,” Eric—one of my mechanics—said and hung up.
Going back to the spreadsheet for parts ordering, I tried to think of how best to do what I was about to do. Did I go the gentle route? The hard-ass route? Or something in between?
A few moments later, a soft knock came at my door.
“Come on in, Dominic,” I called, closing my laptop.
The young man stepped in, looking both confused and nervous. “Uh…hey, Shyanne—er, shit, sorry. I mean, Ms. Witmer.”
I nodded to the chair on the opposite side of my desk. “Sit down, kid.”
The hesitant smile on his face vanished, and he sat down quickly, interlacing his fingers, then wedging them between his legs, eyes locked on the floor.
For a few uncomfortable moments, I sat there, waiting for him to speak first. When it was apparent he wasn’t going to say anything, I stepped in.
“You were late again, Dom,” I said. “That’s the fourth time this month. And for fuck’s sake, you only work here on the weekends, so that’s not a lot of days to get here on time.”
His head snapped up, panic flaring in his eyes.
“Shy—damn—Ms. Witmer, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I was up late last night studying for finals. I lost track of time. I came in as soon as I woke up.”
I raised an eyebrow. “At eleven-thirty? Shift starts at seven.”
His shoulders slumped, and for a second he didn’t look like a seventeen-year-old junior in high school, but more like an eight-year-old boy who’d disappointed his parents.
“I was up until almost four this morning. It’s the algebra that’s fucking—uh…messing me up. I’ll do better. I promise.” He held his hands out pleadingly.
Shaking my head, I sat forward and folded my hands on my desk.
“Kid, this is a business. Because you were late, we had to postpone the engine rebuild on the sixty-eight Mustang. When you started your apprenticeship a year ago, you knew how important it was to be on time. You need an entire shift to learn. I think we both know what I have to do.”
He leapt to his feet. “Please, I’ll work late tonight and Sunday.
I’ll clean the toilets in the employee bathroom every shift for the next month.
I’ll pick up your lunch for you every day.
Ms. Witmer, I love this garage. I love cars.
I have to get into trade school, and I need this job to help pay for stuff and save for school.
I need this apprenticeship to keep my scholarship too. I can’t—”
“Dom,” I cut him off. “I’ve made my decision.”
He didn’t cry, which was good because I would’ve felt like shit.
His face simply went limp and emotionless as he slumped back into his chair.
He was devastated, I could tell. The program he’d been admitted to was a special scholarship that allowed him to earn credits toward trade school by working at a certified business during his last two years of high school.
It would make everything much cheaper when he graduated and moved on to an actual trade school since he’d already have accrued credits.
It wasn’t an easy thing for him, either, since he was working here, going to school, and helped to take care of his younger brother.
“As of today,” I said, speaking slowly, “you are no longer an employee at Tuyuc Auto Services.”
Dominic sighed, but straightened and pulled his shoulders back. “I understand. You can’t keep a job when you’re always late. You’re making the right decision, Ms. Witmer.”
“I’m not done yet,” I said. “You signed a contract for a twelve-month apprenticeship, and I honor all contracts I sign. My father was the same way, and that’s who I learned from.
I will not be notifying the school that your apprenticeship has ended.
” Dominic’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as I continued on.
“Your contract stipulated the pay scale as well, and that too will continue to be honored through your weekly paychecks, though at seventy-five percent rather than one hundred, unfortunately. In your employee files, I will also be placing a note that you are eligible for rehire this summer when your schedule opens back up.” I grinned at him. “I hope to see you next summer, Dom.”
His jaw fell open. Dominic was working his ass off, and he deserved to have weekends to study and be a kid. Even with how tight things were, if I could afford this small kindness, I’d call it a good investment in the future.
“You…you’re gonna pay me not to work?” Dominic said dumbly.
“Seventy-five percent pay. It’s the best I can do with our finances being what they are. Sorry about that but—”
“No!” he exclaimed, holding his hands up. “That’s fine. That’s, like, more than fine.” He let out a deep sigh that sounded like it came from a weary man three times his age. “Ms. Witmer, you didn’t have to do this. I promise I’ll be back to work with you guys next summer. For real.”
“You’ve always been a man of your word, which means I look forward to seeing you then.
But”—I gave him a warning look—“I better not hear anything about you sleeping through classes. Got it? If you want this deal to stay in place, I want to see you on the honor roll. You can text me when you get your grades each semester. Me and the guys will post them out in the garage like proud parents.”
Dominic burst out laughing, the tension in his posture vanishing. I smiled at him, my heart aching pleasantly with that warm fuzzy feeling you got when you did someone a kindness.
“I will,” he said when he recovered. “I promise.”
“Good boy,” I said as I stood. “Now get the hell out of here. Go home and take a nap or study or something.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dom said, then shocked the hell out of me by rushing around the desk to wrap me in a hug. “You’re the best boss ever.”
The kid was scrawny, and I was—by my own and everyone else’s description—quite muscular for a woman. For a moment, I felt like a mother hugging a child, even though I was barely twelve years older than Dominic. I patted his back awkwardly.
“Go on,” I said. “Get out of here before one of the guys sees us hugging and makes a joke.”
When Dominic pulled away, there were tears in his eyes, but a huge smile on his face. “Thank you, Shyanne—Ms. Witmer,” he said.
My own eyes stung a bit when I heard the pure, unadulterated emotion in his voice. I waved at the door.
“Get going, before I start blubbering. Go. Shoo.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” He chuckled as he moved to the door.
“Dom? My dad and I are having a big neighborhood cookout this evening. You want to come over? We’d love to have you.”
He grinned. “That sounds awesome. Can I bring my little brother? Mom works the late shift tonight.”
“The more the merrier.”
“Sweet. We’ll be there. Thanks again.”
After he left, I stared out the window, watching him run out to his car. I smiled at how happy he looked. Heaving a sigh of relief, I gave myself a mental pat on the back.
“Job well done,” I said.
The sounds of work out in the garage drifted in even through the insulation of my office.
Something about the whizz-whizz sounds of pneumatic impact wrenches, the hum of car lifts going up and down, and the never-ending roar of voices calling back and forth was comforting.
That, along with the strangely nostalgic scents of rubber, motor oil, and the faint hint of gasoline, transported me back to childhood.
I could remember toddling around in this very office while my dad—or the only dad I’d ever known anyway—did business.
All I wanted was to restore this garage to what it had been before he had to retire early.
Tamping down my melancholia, I went out to the garage to join the guys in work to get my mind off of my dad.
At five-seven, I wasn’t the tallest in the garage by any means, but I held my own.
Again, my strength helped me here as I carried tires and heavy alternators back and forth, the muscles in my arms flexed and bunched, burning with exertion.
By the end of the day, I was pleasantly sore and starving.
“All right,” I said as the guys put away the tools and began locking up for the night. “Who’s coming to my place for dinner?”
“Does that mean we’re invited?” Carlo asked as he shut the toolboxes.
“Yes, jackass,” I said. “I told you last week. The entire neighborhood is invited.”
“Free food? Free beer? Is Jalina making her famous churros?” Reggie asked as he scrubbed motor oil from his dark brown hands. “She brought those to that Christmas party a while back.”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” I said. “It starts in an hour, make sure you all shower or put on deodorant.”
“She’s talking to you, Brent,” Carlo laughed as I headed for the door.
The last thing I heard before the door closed behind me was Brent shouting back, “Oh, screw you, Carlo. Have you smelled yourself?”
I hopped into my Jeep and pulled out of my parking spot.
The late afternoon was warm, and I was glad I’d removed the doors a few days prior.
A pleasant breeze blew across me, cooling the sweat on my skin.
The flesh of my arms was a darkly tanned olive due to the melanin gifted to me by my mother, who’d been a gorgeous Black woman.
I’d inherited my thick, auburn hair from the rich white guy who’d gotten her pregnant and then bounced.
Whenever I looked in the mirror, I always tried to see my mother in me rather than the man who’d broken her heart—a man I’d never met and most likely never would.
Though, my green eyes told a different story.
I’d always been told the combination of darker skin and green eyes was striking and beautiful, which I did agree with, but it was always a reminder of all that I’d lost. There were times I wondered what it must be like to have a normal family.
To have a mother who hadn’t died a few days after you’d been born, and a father who hadn’t run off before the piss had even dried on the pregnancy test. I loved Marquel, and I couldn’t imagine a man being a better father to me than he had been, but it had been a strain on him to take care of a girl he had no blood relation to.
Part of why I was working so damn hard to get his garage back into the black was so I could take care of him.
Hitting the clutch and brake, I swung into our driveway and parked the Jeep.
Folks had already started showing up, milling around the small front yard, chatting and laughing while music played in the background.
I smiled at the sight. Not one person was related to Marquel or me, but the people from the neighborhood enjoyed the company.
I’d always been drawn to community, stability, and anything that resembled family.
It was why I enjoyed barbecues, bonfires, and even little backyard concerts from local musicians.
Anything to bring people together and show love for those who supported us.
I wished I could do for everyone in the neighborhood what I’d done for Dominic today.
“Hey there, little girl,” Marquel called from the porch.
I waved and smiled, but my grin faltered when he winced as he struggled to his feet. His face paled as he clutched the porch rail.
“Dad, are you okay?” I said, hurrying up the steps to help him.
He waved a hand at me. “I’m fine. Just an old man with old man problems.”
I put an arm around him and helped him down the steps to the grass. “You’re barely sixty, I wouldn’t call that old.”
He brushed his long dark hair back over his shoulder and winked at me.
“That’s true, conejita. They say sixty is the new thirty. Speaking of, you’re almost thirty. You don’t have any cute ladies to set me up with, do you?”
“Eww, gross. No,” I said. “And watch it. I’m twenty-nine. I have almost a whole year before I hit old age.”
Marquel laughed. “When it’s me, sixty is young, but for you thirty is old. I see how it is.” His smile slipped as he stopped to catch his breath. “I’m going to go sit at the patio table.”
“Okay, Dad,” I muttered, allowing him to head that way.
He looked far more tired than he should have.
His wiry frame had always been surprisingly strong because of the years of working on engines and transmissions, lifting, shoving, and twisting machinery and parts.
In the last few years, though, I’d seen some of that sinewy muscle fade.
Before my mind could drift toward the frailties of my surrogate father, a voice called out to me.
“Hey, Shyanne. We made it.”
Turning, I found Dominic and his ten-year-old brother, Anthony, standing at the edge of the yard.
“Wow,” I said, grinning at him. “You came. I’m so glad. I hope you’re hungry. Mrs. Paola down the street is supposed to be bringing an entire roast pig.”
“Like…the face and everything?” Anthony asked, his face twisting in disgust.
“I think I have some chicken nuggets in my freezer, if that sounds better?” I said with a smile.
Dom nudged his brother and scowled at him. Anthony quickly plastered a smile on his face.
“No. That’s fine. I’ll…” He went a little green in the cheeks and swallowed hard. “Uh, I’ll eat its face and ears if I have to.”
I laughed and ruffled his hair. “I think we can find some better parts to eat than that.”
Over the next hour, the rest of the neighborhood arrived, filling our yard and home with laughter and voices, and in doing so, filling me with happiness.
“Everybody get over here,” I called out after the last guest had arrived and the food had been set up in a makeshift buffet. “Someone say grace before we dig in.”
Over three dozen people stood in the tiny yard, holding hands, heads bowed, while Marquel recited a blessing. When we broke and went to eat, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening.