3. Smitty
SMITTY
Idon’t know how long I’d been waiting out in Goose’s truck, but it had been too damn long for me not to realize where I was. I’d spent years working across the street at Cyrus’s Oil and Brake. I’d just been too busy wanting to strangle Goose to even notice.
The faded sign out front had been replaced, but the building itself hadn’t changed a bit.
Hell, it still had the same bay doors, the same gravel lot, and the same busted brick steps out front.
I’d tripped on the damn things at least a hundred times and complained to Cyrus, but he always had some excuse for not getting to it.
A lifetime seemed to pass as I sat there staring at it, and then, the driver’s door opened. Goose climbed in and tossed a box over into the back. “Got it.”
I didn’t answer. I just kept staring at that old garage that held a million memories, good and bad. It didn’t take long for Goose to realize something was up and ask, “Something wrong?”
“That’s where I got my first real job.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I was eighteen and out on my own for the first time, and the owner took pity on me.” Silence settled over us for a moment, but I eventually added, “I didn’t know anybody. I had no place to stay, no job, and no plan. I just had a couple of duffel bags, a few hundred bucks, and my truck.”
“No plan at all?”
“Hell, no. All I had in my head was getting the hell out of Bristol.”
“Understood.”
I didn’t have to tell him why. Goose knew the story.
All the brothers did. A couple of kids, a 4-wheeler, and a freak accident that left a twin without his better half.
It was a tough one to stomach, no matter how many times you heard it.
I lived it, breathed it, felt it every time my mother looked at me, and when I couldn’t take it a second longer, I got the hell out of there.
“The money went fast,” I continued. “Faster than I thought it would.”
“It always does.”
“I slept in my truck and picked up work wherever I could find it. Construction. Loading docks. Landscaping. Even donated plasma a time or two.”
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
“Yes, he does.” I ran my hand over the back of my neck and sighed. “I even spent a few nights at a shelter. The weather had turned, and I was low on gas and out of options.”
I could still remember that cold feeling of desperation and embarrassment, and how it seemed like nothing was going right. Goose pulled me from my thoughts when he asked, “What happened?”
“Cyrus happened.” Goose raised an eyebrow, so I motioned my head toward the garage. “He’s the owner.”
Just the sound of his name brought a smile to my face. He was leaning into his sixties, his hair had gone white a long time ago, and he scowled more than any man I’d ever met. He chewed tobacco, the kind that came in a pouch, and he always had a tool in either his hand or his back pocket.
I chuckled as I told him, “My pickup had broken down right in front of his shop. I popped the hood and fiddled around with hoses and wires I knew nothing about, and I was dishing out all kinds of profanity when he walked up wearing a pair of old overalls and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He didn’t even ask.
He just leaned in and took a quick look before he announced something about my alternator being shot and that I needed to get it to the shop. ”
Goose didn’t move.
He just sat there, waiting to hear the rest of the story, so I gave it to him.
“I asked him what it was gonna cost, and it was way more than I had. I told him I’d have to wait, but waiting really wasn’t an option. I had to work. I had to make money, and I couldn’t do that without a truck.”
“So, what’d he do?”
“He fixed it anyway. Told me I could sweep floors or help out with inventory until I earned enough to cover the parts.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.” I nodded. “And when he found out I was sleeping in my truck, he let me stay in the room above the shop. He didn’t stop there. He taught me all there was to know about fixing cars.”
It seemed like a lifetime ago, but those days meant a lot to me.
Cyrus became the father I’d lost after my brother died.
He turned my life around and never once made a big deal about it.
He never treated me like a charity case.
He simply gave me a chance, and looking back, I see how breaking down in front of his shop was one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to me.
“There were days I didn’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t been there.”
“Sounds like a good man.”
“One of the best.”
A lump formed in my throat. Not because of the garage or the memories. But because I wouldn’t be sitting here next to Goose if that old man hadn’t given me a chance. That was all it had taken to change the course of my life. Goose gave me a nudge and asked, “You wanna go check on him?”
“Yeah,” I answered, and for the first time since we’d pulled into that parking lot, I smiled. “I do.”
With that, we both got out of his truck and started across the street. As we approached the bay doors, Goose smirked, “You gonna get all sentimental on me?”
“Shut up.”
“I thought so.”
I rolled my eyes and opened the door, and the second I stepped inside and smelled the dirt and grime, more memories came rushing back.
I took a quick look around, and it came as no surprise that the inside hadn’t changed, either.
The concrete floors were still cracked, the old Coke machine was still busted, and overhead lights still blinked like they were about to give out at any second.
For a second, I felt eighteen again. Broke, scared, and pretending I knew what I was doing when I didn’t have a clue. I was taking it all in when I heard, “Well, I’ll be damned. Look what the wind blew in.”
“Hey there, Cyrus.” He was wearing his legendary jean overalls with a short-sleeved plaid shirt and a cap that looked older than he was. He looked a bit older and more tired than I remembered, but that spark in his eye was still there and bright as ever. “You’re looking good.”
“Wish I could say the same about you.” He wiped his hand on a rag and started toward me. “I was beginning to think you’d dropped off the face of the earth.”
“Sorry about that. I kept meaning to come by, but you know how it is… Time just kept getting away from me.”
“I get it. I get it… I’ve been busier than a dentist in a trailer park, but busy is good. Keeps the head clear, and the heart going strong.”
Before I could respond, Cyrus wrapped me in a rough, one-armed hug and smacked me on the shoulder. The force of the hit nearly knocked the air from my lungs, and somehow that made me smile even more. “Good to see you, too, old man.”
“Old man?” Cyrus stepped back, looking me over. “Best remember who you’re talking to.”
“I remember all too well.”
“I bet you do.” Cyrus chuckled. “You could use a haircut.”
Goose barked out a laugh behind me. I shook my head. “Not you, too.”
“He’s just stating facts,” Goose teased.
Cyrus finally noticed him, and his scowl returned. “This is Goose.”
“Nice to meet ya.” Goose stepped forward and shook his hand, and Cyrus obliged. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”
“Appreciate that.” He glanced down at his vest, and recognition flashed across his face. “You’re one of Preacher’s boys.”
“Yes, sir.” Goose motioned his head over to me. “Your boy just patched in.”
“No shit?”
“It’s one of the reasons I haven’t been by,” I admitted. “I was prospecting.”
“Heard that can be rough.”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Glad to hear it. Known Preacher for a long time.” Cyrus turned his attention back to me. “He’s the reason Fury is what it is.”
“Damn right.”
“Makes me feel better knowing you landed somewhere decent.”
“Wouldn’t have stood a chance without you.”
Cyrus’s eyes settled on me again, and for a moment, neither of us said a word. Finally, Cyrus nodded and said, “You did good, son.”
His words hit hard. There hadn’t been many people in my life I’d wanted to hear that from, and Cyrus was high on the list. He’d seen me at my worst. He’d seen the hunger, the fear, the heartbreak, and the uncertainty, but that hadn’t stopped him from expecting the best from me.
My chest tightened as I said, “Thanks, boss.”
“Ah, don’t go getting all soft on me.” Cyrus shook his head. “You know I can’t take that shit. Besides, I knew you’d figure it out someday.”
He smiled, and that was the end of that.
Simple and honest, just like he’d always been.
Goose and I said our goodbyes, and I promised to check back in with him soon, and I actually meant it.
He’d spent years looking out for me, and I owed it to him to do the same for him.
We got out to the truck, and I found myself looking over at the garage as Goose backed up and started back to the clubhouse.
The drive back was quieter than the trip over.
Partly because of Goose, and partly because of me.
The visit with Cyrus had left me with all kinds of thoughts.
Some were welcomed while others were not.
By the time we rolled through the gate, I’d managed to shove the memories back where they belonged.
Well, at least for now.
Goose parked around back and killed the engine. As we got out, I spotted Drifter talking with Memphis and Seven, and even from a distance, I could tell something was up. They weren’t talking. They weren’t laughing or cutting up. They were just standing there watching as we walked over.
Goose glanced over at me, and he mumbled, “That don’t look good.”
“Sure don’t,” I muttered back. “Got any idea what’s going on?”
“Nope, but I intend to find out.” As soon as we got closer, Goose looked to Memphis and said, “What’s going on?”
Seven let out a breath as he ran his hand over his jaw. “Maverick had an accident. Pretty bad one.”