Brock smiled. It was a smile that recognized what I was trying to do on more than one level, a smile cautious to agree…but a smile that nevertheless reflected agreement.
“Sure,” he said.
I just hoped I wouldn’t have to abuse that request.
Because if so, it wouldn’t matter how much work Brock was doing to protect the town.
It didn’t do any good to protect “a town” when you couldn’t protect an individual in the town.
Brock
Two Days Later
“All right, let’s lay her down…right there.”
Mason and Connor latched the sign into place. I stepped back with Cole and looked at the new sign in front of us. I smiled, feeling a sense of ownership, even though most of the profits would go to Cole.
“Santa Maria Auto Repairs.”
“SMAR,” the boys had taken to calling it. Some of us had experience with mechanical repair, but those who did—Mason and Garrett, specifically—had had to teach the rest of us on the fly. We all studied as if we were Zack, taking careful notes and paying close attention to every little detail. We could not ignore anything, for if we did not make money being one of two repair shops in the area, there was only so long that Cole would provide financial support for us.
But all of that would matter on Monday, not yet. For now, we looked with pride at the building, which the six of us, Cole, and some friends of Connor’s in construction had helped shape up in record time.
“Gentlemen,” Cole said. “Welcome to your new home.”
Garrett broke the silence, raising a fist in triumph and yelling, “Fuck yeah!” The rest of us laughed and applauded.
“Now,” Cole said. “As much as I am serious about having you all be a service for this town and protect those you care about, that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun. So.”
He looked at each of us, a grin forming over his face.
“Who wants to celebrate a little?”
* * *
I sat in the back of the store, sipping a beer as I took in the surroundings. There were about fifteen people here total—eight guys, seven girls. Not a perfect ratio, but Cole was a father and with his girlfriend anyway.And besides, not like you are on the prowl. Say all you want about Tara, but…
Besides the six Bernard Boys—a nickname I was eager to dispel with in favor of becoming Black Reapers, though Cole said he would officially have to make us that before we could give ourselves that nickname—there was Cole and one friend of Connor’s, a guy he did construction with. I could already see Connor pitching him on the chance to make a difference in the town; perhaps he would become our first prospect.
“Not too bad, huh?” Cole said.
“I’ll say,” I said.
Even though I had no overt interest in any of the girls, I had to admit the six that were here were all stunningly attractive. I recognized a couple of them as friends of Garrett’s—I used the term “friend” loosely in this case—but the rest had just come through word-of-mouth. It was a promising sign for when the club really got going.
“You’re going to want to build a clubhouse behind this shop sooner rather than later,” Cole said. “That, I will leave up to you guys. A clubhouse should be like your sacred hall, a place you go where you can be yourselves and not have to face customers. I gave you this, but only you guys can build your clubhouse.”
“Probably a place where we can better throw parties, huh?” I said. “Can’t imagine that girls will want to come into this garage when it smells like oil and has cars propped up a half-dozen feet in the air.”
“No, I can’t say that is the case,” Cole said with a chuckle.
We looked back out on the scene. Garrett was macking on some girl. Mason, Zack, and Steele were at a roundtable with two girls, sharing a beer. It was hard to guess who would be the odd man out; my money was on Zack, but Steele might have gotten himself to that place where he didn’t want to talk to any women right now.
“How are you and Steele?”
Didn’t expect that.
“We’re fine.”
