17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Trent
T he next day, as though the fates heard my silent begging, I get my first client referred to me by Earl.
The woman is from Utica, but Earl has replaced every electric part that his diagnostics have said is problematic, and her car is still throwing codes.
He calls to tell me she’s on her way to me, and that he’s going to pick up the tab.
I’d love to tell him I can do it for free for old times’ sake, but the reality is that I can’t.
When she arrives, I run my own tests. A couple of the guys who work for me, that I’m only starting to get to know, come over to watch me walk through the problem.
The old joke about how many people it takes to change a lightbulb pops into my head, and I hope she doesn’t think it’s amateur hour over here.
It takes me almost two hours to root down to the issue, but I find it. A wire that probably wasn’t attached properly at the factory. She leaves with no more codes showing, and she’s happy with me and happy with Earl.
It’s the first real win since I opened, and I breathe a sigh of relief. This is what I’m good at.
“That was impressive, man,” Brett, an older mechanic who worked for Bruce for years, says at lunch. “You were like a bloodhound. Are you going to train a few of us in how to narrow that shit down?”
“I can, yeah,” I say. “If anything comes in, I can work side-by-side with whoever wants to understand how I’d tackle it.”
“Pencil me in for the next one,” Brett says. “I wasn’t sold on Bruce selling to you, but that was impressive.” He wags a finger at me as he returns to his oil change.
Just after lunch, Maggie and Grady show up in separate vehicles. Maggie comes in with a broad grin, holding Grady’s hand.
“We came to get our oil changed,” Maggie says.
“He doesn’t do that for you?” I say, nodding at Grady.
“Fuck off, man,” Grady says, immediately picking up on my double meaning. “We’re getting our car oil changed here, and then we’re taking a few shots for social media. Hyping you up, as it were.”
“Hiran is coming to do a story on the shop takeover, too,” Maggie says. “For the local paper. Lots of people read it online or get it in print. He’s getting his oil changed too.”
I glance at my mom, who’s been the one in charge of bookings, and she gives me a slight smile.
“Did you really want me to tell you?” she asks.
It’s a fair question. I probably would have turned it all down, and I really shouldn’t.
The press and social media push from Maggie, from Grady, from Hiran could make a difference.
I do need as many people as possible hyping me up, even if the notion makes me want to hide out in my office and avoid people.
I can deal with negative attention—I’ve learned to steel myself against it—but pats on the back are tougher to take.
“Emily arranged it all,” Maggie says. “Had Penny book it.”
My chest goes tight and then warm at the realization that she heard me the other night, and then she immediately tried to help. “She’s my best hype man,” I say.
Maggie gives me a long, considering look. “Yes, she really is.”
But she doesn’t pry or push, and I’m grateful. I don’t even know what I’d say, depending on what she asked.
Then Tyler’s truck roars into the parking lot, followed by a flashy black car that I know will have Mia and her bodyguard, Pasha. Sure enough, they all climb out.
“Them too?” I ask my mom, trying to keep my grin under control.
“Them too,” my mom confirms.
Mia alone could blow up my business, especially when I see several other cars pull into my parking lot, which means she called in the paps for this.
It won’t just be on her socials, it’ll be across the interwebs.
Tyler told us all once that Mia sometimes called the paparazzi on herself, depending on what she was doing, but I never quite believed it.
Mia strolls into the shop, Tyler holding her hand. Cameras click frantically behind her, but no one enters the business. Pasha stands at the door, tall and intimidating. His “don’t fuck with me” face is excellent.
“I just called my favorites,” Mia says, by way of explanation as she nods at the photographers outside.
“The photos should sell reasonably well if I give them a bit of PDA with my pretty boy.” She gives Tyler a sly grin, and it’s one of the first times I’ve seen the confident businesswoman.
Normally, she’s the anxious mom around the Sullivan crowd.
“Hopefully it gives you some cred and some business.” She gives me a long look.
“If I tell them you’re my trusted mechanic, business might get a bit out of control. Do you want that or not?”
Even though I should say “yes,” I hesitate. “Maybe we should see how this all comes together first?” I suggest.
“Whatever you want,” Mia says. “I can pop by whenever to do a few lives as your guys work on my car.” She eyes me. “Or maybe you. You’d play really well to my demographic.”
Tyler tugs her into his side, and I can’t help my grin. He kept the faith remarkably well in the months she was gone, so to see even a hint of jealousy from him is funny.
And then as they all spring into work, getting photos taken, having their oil changed, talking up my business to Hiran, I can’t help feeling extremely lucky that I somehow stumbled into the Sullivan orbit.
When I was a cocky teen, I approached Maggie at a party and offered to change her life, and instead, she changed mine.
Em has a house showing, and I already agreed to get Amir from his after-school care. I arrive a bit early, take him to the town center, and park my truck.
“What are we doing?” Amir glances around.
“Your mom did something really nice for me today, and now I’d like to do something really nice for her.” I purse my lips and stare down main street. “What do you think we could get?”
Amir frowns and taps his chin. Then he brackets his face with his hands and seems a bit stumped.
Me too, buddy. Me too.
I thought about bringing home flowers again, and she did like those last time. But it doesn’t seem like enough for what she’s done for me, what she continues to do for me.
“Can we drive down the road?” Amir asks. “I think I remember something.”
“Okay,” I say, restarting the car and driving extra slow down main street. I’m sure the cars behind me are loving my pace.
“There!” Amir says, clearly excited. “Mom went in there last weekend, and there was a book she picked up. She carried it around for a while and then put it back.”
“Do you think you can remember which one?” I ask, skeptical.
“Yes,” Amir says with a decisiveness that’s surprising.
When we get in the store, he picks up one that has a bunch of flowers on the cover.
“You’re sure?” I ask, though it does look like covers of books I’ve seen Emily reading. Of course, I have no idea what’s inside the covers. Even though I can read now, I’m slow, and reading anything substantial still feels like a lot of work if I don’t have to do it.
“It was definitely this one,” he says.
“Okay. And you’re sure she put it back?” I scan through my memory of the books I’ve seen lying around the house, and I don’t think I’ve seen this one.
“Yes,” Amir says, and there’s a hint of impatience in the word.
The kids does have a memory like a steel trap. There’s a good chance this is exactly the book she picked up.
I buy it, and I have them put it in a fancy bag. Then I buy a blank card, but when I get back to the house, I sit at the kitchen table forever trying to think of what I can say that gets across how much what she did means to me without going too far.
If we hadn’t had sex a couple of weeks ago, if I could stop thinking about having sex with her again, whatever I wrote wouldn’t feel so loaded. In the end, I settle for something way more relaxed than what I feel, and I seal it up.
When Em gets home, I’ve fed Amir and I’ve left some food in the fridge for her. She heats it up and then calls to me in the living room.
“Trent, what’s this?”
“Mom!” Amir yells from the top of the stairs, his hearing suddenly supersonic. “Wait! I’m coming.” His little feet pound down the stairs, and he rushes past the living room door and into the kitchen.
I follow behind, and I lean against the kitchen door, watching as Amir practically buzzes with excitement over Emily opening a book. He’s so her kid.
She misses the card and pulls out the book, a quizzical expression on her face. “What—”
“Trent said you did something extra nice for him today, so he wanted to do something extra nice for you too. I remembered that you almost bought that last week, so we bought it for you today.” Amir says it all so fast that it’s almost a blur of nonsense.
Emily’s softened gaze meets mine. “You didn’t have to.”
“Neither did you. But it’s appreciated.”
Now that the excitement is over, Amir zips past me and back upstairs to his Lego set.
The air around us heats, and I wish I could close the space between us, lift her onto the kitchen table and show her just how grateful I really am.
“Just know,” I say, “that if there were no rules, I’d be kissing you right now.” Then I turn and go back into the living room.