"Then why are we still talking about this? You'll learn a lot from selling the bikes."
"Understood."
He turns his back to me when I decide to speak again.
"Why are you doing all of this for me, Nate?"
"Why?" He takes a chug of some orange juice.
"Yeah, why."
"You're Jack's son and he didn't raise no idiot. You just need help getting back on your feet again and I'm just the man to do it. That's why."
I have to ask this.
The question has been burning a hole in my tongue for twenty-four hours.
"So where was all that help a few years ago?"
Nate's eyes grow slightly wider. Evidently surprised by my frankness.
"I haven't asked you anything about why you aren't living in Jack's house anymore. About where all of his life insurance money went. His truck. His gun collection. You know why? Because I understand that shit happens. You should understand that too."
"You saying that you dropped the ball because shit happens?"
"I'm saying that I didn't have no ball to drop. It wasn't my job to raise you right. That was Jack's job. I assumed he completed that job. When he died, you were already eighteen years old. Not eight. When I was eighteen I was already serving in the army, paying my grandmother's bills, and defending this country. Don't blame me for your bad decisions."
He's defensive, coughing like crazy, and in an all-around bad mood now. I shouldn't have said what I did. Having this conversation about would of, should of, could of shit is not going to help my cause right now. I sound like an ungrateful dickhead, and that isn't going to get Nate to trust me. That's not going to help me get my money.
"You're right," I say respectfully. "I won't bring it up again. So, what are the hours I'll be working again?"
"I need someone to work late in the shop when Savannah's here. That's why I really need you out front and not in the back. She works nights and most weekends, but it's not safe for her to be in here on her own anymore. Her mother and I are old high school friends, and she would kill me if something were to happen to Savannah."
Oh, so that's why he wants me to keep my hands to myself. He's probably got a thing for the mom.
"You had a break in or something?"
"No, but things are changing in this area. It was quiet and safe back in the old days, but the neighborhood is changing, so you're going to need to keep a close eye on things. After today, I'm going to need you here from one to closing. You'll work the phones, schedules repairs, and Savannah will sell the bikes. You both will close. She'll handle the paperwork, and you lock up."
Perfect.
"Got it."
Savannah comes inside and starts staring at me like she wants to eat me alive. It's a dangerous look to give to a man who's been locked up with zero conjugal visits, but that's probably the point she's trying to make clear. I can see it in her eyes. If she has any say in the matter, she wants to give me everything I've been missing for the last five years.
"Good, I need to head back home and jump in the bed before Ariana catches me. Savannah will help familiarize you with your duties. I'll come back later to close."
He blows his nose.
"I can help Savannah close today if you want."
Nate looks at Savannah then looks at me. I can tell that he thinks that I want to get my hands on his number one sales girl.
"Why?" he asks suspiciously.
"Bored," I say nonchalantly. "I'm used to keeping busy. Just want to help."
"All right then. See you later. Call me if anything comes up."
"Understood."
"Oh, and baby girl is going to bring her car in to get her backlight fixed. Don't let her leave without making sure that Sammy checks over that entire car."
"No problem."
"Make sure you teach him something on your downtime, Savannah."
"No problem, Nate," she says as she grins suggestively at me. "I'll teach the new boy here absolutely everything he needs to know."
* * *
