Inside the shop, the vibe’s different these days. It still smells like oil, metal, and gasoline. But it looks different now that I’m teaching at the school and only working part-time in the shop to keep it going until I figure out what we’re doing. Wecan’t live in the apartment forever. And sometimes living here feels like living with ghosts.
Jonesy’s here with Grave and a few others. I haven’t seen Pint around, and I think he got the memo that I didn’t like him or want him here. Bandit growled at him when he came around, so I told him off one day. But I like having the rest of them around. They’ve been working in one of the bays, and they don’t bother anyone. One of their guys has a bike up on a stand in the bay, fiddling with it while Jonesy helps him. Everyone’s relaxed but alert, like a room full of big dogs pretending not to notice each other. Biker energy is strange. Bandit follows Owen throughout the parking lot, even riding next to him in the go-kart. It’s just about the cutest thing ever. Grave looks at him and shakes his head, but his mouth turns up in a smile. He doesn’t say much to anyone really, just walks around looking hot and being quiet, but Jonesy is friendly and shoots the shit with me. They’re comfortable enough that they leave beer in my office fridge and hang out here sometimes. At this point, I’m not even sure how they get in, but they clean up after themselves, and they never bother us. And mysterious stacks of cash end up in my top desk drawer every week. Ollie and I opened an account for Owen and started putting everything in it. That money is for him.
My guard will probably always be up around the bikers. But they pay, they’re respectful, and they treat my shop like a business. And whatever happened between them and Ollie, he’s more relaxed about it, too.
It is what it is. This is our new normal. Biker protection, living together, and being a family. I love it.
Jonesy wipes his hands on a rag and leans back against the workbench. “You ever think about hiring help around here?”
I glance up from the invoice I’m working on. “Help for what?”
He shrugs. “I’m a mechanic. Just not working right now. Don’t love sitting around. Grave and I were tossing the idea around of what if we became partners, got this place up and going together with you.”
I consider what he’s saying. He’s older with gray at his temples. I’ve watched him for a while now, and he knows his way around the shop. Knows not to treat me less than because I’m a female mechanic. That alone puts him above a lot of men I’ve dealt with.
“I’d have to think about it,” I say. “But maybe.”
It’s funny, the thing I hated about my dad was him and his bikers around growing up. I steered clear of them all. Now these guys are here, and we’re doing okay. Better than okay.
His mouth tilts like he knew that was the answer he’d get. “Fair enough.”
The shop door bangs open hard enough to rattle the glass, and Cami storms in like she’s about to commit a felony. She just might.
Her cheeks are flushed, her long dark ponytail’s coming loose, and her eyes are wild in that way that usually precedes Jack Jessop doing damage control after whatever it is she’s about to do. He’s literally the only person on the planet who can tame Cami, especially when she’s mad. And right now, she looks really mad. She doesn’t even seem to notice that the shop is full of bikers.
“Ollie called me,” she announces to no one in particular. “I know what our mother did.”
The shop goes quiet in that way that only happens when everyone is pretending not to listen.
I swivel on my stool. “Let’s chat in the office.”
She follows me without argument. I don’t bother shutting the door or offering her a chair, because she’s pacing like an angry lioness anyway.
“I can’t even with her,” Cami says, throwing her hands up. “She’s been included in dinners with us, and she’s been acting like a human being, and then she goes and does this. Why, Poppy? Why?”
I lean back against the desk. “Sometimes parents just suck.”
She stops pacing and looks at me. “You’re not wrong,” she says flatly.
I wait, letting her get everything out and vent. Because this isn’t a good feeling, figuring out the people who are supposed to protect you are the ones who hurt you.
“My husband told me to calm down,” she continues. “Which is brave of him. It’s like he wants his own Dateline episode.”
There’s a snort from outside the office. I’m pretty sure that’s Jonesy. He’s the nosey one. And they’ve been following along with the Theresa saga.
Cami rubs her face. “I had to come here because I want to go find her and rip her a new one.”
“You have every right to be angry,” I agree. But she’s furious. And sad. I know these feelings well.
She exhales hard. “What are you guys going to do about her?”
I don’t answer right away, because this isn’t fully my call. But I know Ollie, and I know myself. This isn’t going to continue. We can never trust her again. Because one thing is for sure about Ollie and me is that we don’t tolerate people trying to hurt us or the people we love anymore. We’re raising our own kids now. We’re not doing that or putting up with that.
Cami answers her own question anyway. “There are about three people in this town who should probably call the cops when they see me coming. And my mother can now be added to that list.”
I smile sadly because this is literally Cami trying to joke about it, even though she is hurt and angry.
Cami sinks into the chair across from me at last. “We’re obviously done with her, and that hurts. But what hurts more is that she thinks nothing of hurting us and the people we love to get what she wants.” She looks up at me, eyes bright and fierce. “So, I’m going to show her that I’m crazier.”
