19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Trent
B ruce left last week, and this week, thanks to the social media posts and the article in the paper, we’ve had steady bookings. Even next week already has a number of slots taken with regular service appointments.
Overall, May isn’t looking too terrible, and I’m feeling a tiny bit of hope about the future. There’s a chance I can make a go of this.
It helps that I have Mia’s endorsement tucked into my back pocket if things slow down or don’t continue on a steady increase.
She did warn me that if she told people she only uses me to look after her vehicles, that I’d probably draw a more national and international clientele.
Lucrative, but not exactly the small-town experience I’m hoping to keep going here.
For now, I really want to keep my focus on establishing good relationships in town, making the locals feel like they can trust me.
Around town, it’s been a mixed bag of reactions, with some people making shady comments to my face while others offer heartfelt congratulations about getting my life turned around.
I figure anyone who hasn’t said anything that’s gotten back to me is reserving judgement, waiting to see if I’ll fuck up or make a go of it.
Brett’s working the late shift on Thursday, and my mom has left for the day. Brett’s just tidying the shop before we close up when a BMW X1 pulls into our lot. It’s a flashy canary yellow, which isn’t to my tastes, but my curiosity is piqued. I haven’t seen the vehicle around town.
When the driver’s door opens, it takes me a beat to clock who steps out. Dan Ramouli. I’d heard from Grady that he’d taken over the gas station across town, so I’d avoided filling up there or stopping in for any reason.
“Brett,” I call into the shop. “I need you to be present for this conversation, if you don’t mind.”
My mother is still doing the booking, but whenever a client has a complaint or question, I’m the one who deals with it.
Last week, an irate customer got me cornered outside my office and started throwing my past in my face after my mother left for the day, and Brett suggested that a second person floating around might make at least some people less likely to let loose.
For those who are truly unhinged, I’d have backup.
In Utica, Earl handled all the forward-facing client relations, and I never really considered how people who weren’t happy no matter what we did were appeased.
Brett saunters into the reception area, and he pretends to be organizing things along the wall when Dan comes in.
“Trent Castillo,” he crows as though we’re old friends rather than borderline enemies. He sold me out to the cops when we were kids to make sure he got away without jail time. “How’s business?”
“It’s been fine,” I say. “I think Hutchinson across town can probably help you with whatever you need.”
“He can’t, actually,” Dan says, strolling around the reception, looking at the artsy car paintings on the walls. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“If whatever you want to talk about can’t be said in front of Brett, it’s probably not worth saying,” I say.
Brett gives up any pretense of organizing the front reception area and comes to stand at my shoulder.
“I heard business was slow,” Dan says. “So I came to offer you a partnership, of a sort. I get people at the gas station asking for mechanic recs all the time. I could do that for you, and you could do something for me.”
“We’re good here,” I say. “I’m not looking to create any partnerships with anyone.”
“Doesn’t seem very small-town neighborly,” Dan says. “We all get better together, isn’t that what you used to say?”
The fact he’s brought that up—a phrase from another life—makes me certain that whatever partnership he wants to enter into isn’t legal. No matter how slow business gets, I’d rather give up the shop than do something to land me in prison again.
Despite his lack of jail time, his level of success has never rang completely true to me. When Grady told me Dan managed to buy out the gas station, and now seeing him driving a flashy car, I have to wonder whether his brush with the law and his ability to get off only made him bolder.
“I don’t know why you’d come here,” I say.
“Tiger doesn’t change his stripes,” Dan says. “Just gets better at camouflage.”
“That might be true for you,” I say, “but our business with each other ended in a courtroom when I was nineteen.”
“I think you’ll find that a lot of the same rules still apply,” Dan says. “If you don’t play the game, you risk getting hit by a stray ball.”
This fucking guy. His code isn’t even particularly well done.
“That sounded like a verbal threat to me,” Brett says beside me, picking up the receiver for the phone. “Want me to call that in?”
Dan puts up his hands and backs toward the door. “Didn’t mean nothing by that. Just reminding Trent how this all works, in case he really has been out of the game all this time.”
“You stay the fuck away from me and my shop,” I say. “There isn’t a game you could be running that I’d want a piece of.”
Dan smirks and gives me a long look. Back when we were kids, I sort of understood why he played nice with the cops. It’s possible if I’d been given the chance, I’d have done the same thing. But him showing up here, insinuating that we should have any kind of relationship, is a fucking joke.
As soon as he’s out the door, Brett sets the receiver back down. “The past never stays buried, huh?”
“I keep shoveling more dirt on top of it,” I say. “Surprises me, sometimes, the people trying to dig it up.” It’s another one of the reasons I hesitated to take Mia’s offer. That much attention would be bound to bring some heat to my past, and I hate talking about it, addressing it.
“Think he’ll be back?” Brett asks.
“If the shop isn’t doing well, yes,” I say.
Two things I can say for certain about Dan—he’s excellent at smelling blood in the water, knowing when people are desperate to survive, and he’s persistent.
Back when we were dealing drugs, that combination made us both a lot of money, but now that I’m on the other side of it, it doesn’t feel so good.
On Saturday morning, I get waylaid before I can get out the door by Amir, who’s desperate for some breakfast. Rather than telling him to wake up Em, I text Brett that I’ll be a few minutes late, and I make him a couple of pancakes with some extras for Emily when she wakes up.
I put the leftovers in the oven, and I give Amir instructions to show Emily when she comes downstairs.
I’m in my truck on the way to the shop when Brett calls. “We’ve had a break-in,” he says. “Judy and I are standing outside waiting for the police.”
“Do you know what they took?”
“Place looks ransacked,” Brett says. “I didn’t want to touch anything. As soon as I saw the smashed front door, I called the police.”
“I’ll be there in a minute. You can go home, if you want. I’ll handle whatever work we’ve got booked this morning. Tell Judy that I’ll still pay you both for the morning.”
On Saturdays, we are only open until noon—mostly last-minute bookings and emergencies—so it’s a small crew that rotates out each week. I’m glad Brett’s the one who discovered the break-in. Some of my greener employees might not have known to call the police right away.
“I’ll send Judy on her way,” Brett says. “But I’ll stay until the police are done. After the other day, I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about you.”
“Thanks, man,” I say. “I appreciate that.”
Brett’s working on a car, and I’m matching inventory to our records when Emily arrives.
“Maggie called and said you’d had a break-in?” she says, coming straight into the shop where Brett and I are both working.
“I always forget how fast gossip tracks in this town,” I say, checking off another item on my list. So far, I’m only missing two tools, and I can’t even be sure if they’re missing or someone didn’t put them away where they belong. That’ll be the next step.
“Maggie is the mayor,” she says, looking around. “Other than the front door, was anything else taken or broken?”
“Not one hundred percent sure yet,” I say. “Where’s Amir?”
“Tyler’s house. I dropped him off before coming here. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to help, and I wasn’t sure either of us would have the patience for Amir’s questions about what happened. Not to mention the fact that I’d rather not freak him out about a break-in.”
“My money is on Dan trying to send a message,” Brett says from under the car.
“Dan?” Emily says.
“Dan Ramouli,” I say.
“The guy who helped send you to jail? Maggie was pissed when he came back to town, but she couldn’t block his purchase of the gas station,” Emily says.
“Mayor Maggie has good instincts,” Brett says, stepping out from under the raised vehicle. “Are you telling Emily?” he asks me.
“I am now,” I say, though I probably should have told her the other day when it happened. I just hate any reminders of who I used to be. “Dan stopped by to see whether I’d have an interest in working with him. When I said I did not, he said I might get hit with a ‘stray ball.’”
“What does that mean?” Em asks.
“Trying to intimidate him,” Brett says. “I was here, so I already told the cops about what happened. Said they should be monitoring Dan’s gas station and people he’s associating with.”
“Why would Dan even come talk to you? That seems reckless,” Emily says. “There’s no love there after what he did.”
“He heard the shop isn’t doing well,” I say, staring at the wrench in my hand before putting it back in its place. “And he knows what I’m like. How laser focused I can get.”
“On doing well?” she asks.
“On doing whatever it takes to do well,” I say, sparing her a quick glance before going back to my checklist. “But I don’t do that anymore. I’ve taught myself to cut my losses.”
“Almost,” Brett says with a chuckle. “I’d wager that laser focus is just better applied now. When something is broken and there should be a fix, you’re relentless.”
“That’s different,” I say. “The only thing I’m losing is time, and people are helped, not hurt, when I fix those problems. You don’t know what I used to be like—neither of you do.”
“You’re really hard on yourself sometimes,” Emily says quietly. “Maggie wouldn’t have gone to bat for you when you got out, wouldn’t have maintained such a close friendship with you if she thought you weren’t a good guy at heart, Trent.”
“You and Maggie both have the same problem,” I say, “you see more of the good in people than the reality.”
“Trent,” she says, and I hate the tone in her voice, scolding and disappointed.
“This is my mess to clean up,” I say. “You should go spend time with Amir.”
She stands there for a beat, and I can almost feel her censoring herself, coming up with replies and then casting them aside.
If I look at her, she’ll continue the conversation, probably wear me down to the point where she’ll be trying to help me fix this mess, and it’s not hers to fix.
She’s got enough to worry about in her own life.
So I keep focused on the tools until I feel her walk away, until I hear her car pull out of the lot.
“Nothing wrong with letting people who care help,” Brett says as he tightens a bolt in the car he’s working on.
“I’m not dragging Emily through the mud of my past,” I say. “If even a spot of dirt got on her, I’d be so angry at myself for putting her in that situation. She’s had enough tough moments. She doesn’t need to be bathing in mine too.”
“You know her better than me,” Brett says.
Then we work in silence until just before lunch, when all the tools are accounted for, and I’ve decided to check the front reception and my office.
It’s then that I discover someone tried to break into my laptop computer in the office but ran out of password attempts.
The two computers are synced, but I got into the desktop earlier to check appointments and schedules without issue.
It makes me nervous that whoever tried to get into this one actually got into the other.
Immediately, I go back to the desktop and check the activity. There was one login attempt at three in the morning that failed, but that’s it. It’s hard to know if whoever it was tried that before or after the laptop.
“I think I should get cameras,” I say to Brett as we’re boarding up the front door, securing the other areas as best we can. “Maybe a security system.”
“I would,” Brett says. “No way to know yet if this was Dan, but if you’re right and he’s going to try to force your hand, ruining your business so he can ‘save’ it is the best ‘stray ball’ he’s got.”
It is, and that makes me really fucking nervous.