He mutters something to himself, I look at him, “Got something to say?”
He gives me a questionable look, “You do realize that you have something green in your hair? It’s been there for a few days.”
I touch my hairline, pulling out my phone to see. And behold, a streak of green hidden along my hairline holds to my skin like a memory.
Shit, I’ll get it tattooed there.
Joaquin clicks away on his keyboard, trying to hack into the school system and look into any camera footage from the shipyard. I scramble through the backlog of events over the past couple of years, looking at all police reports, trying to find something that will prove my hunch.
Something gets me thinking. If they have had a history of this, how bad was it before they got better at it?
“We’re taking a ride,” I close Joaquin’s laptop and hoist him up. “Wait, what?” He starts to babble.
“Donnie, prospect, get your ass out here!” I yell to the back, waiting for one of the newest prospects. Donnie comes sprinting, nearly running out of breath by the time he approaches us.
“Yes sir,” he responds, straightening up. He’s a bit proper, but he’ll toughen up in time.
“Saddle up, we’re heading into town. We’re visiting an old friend,” I say as we start to mount our bikes.
There’s only one person that I know can share their knowledge of the community and all that has been going on with it. Well two, but one of them I rather not approach yet.
Mr. Jeremiah.
The older man that stuck his neck out for us a few months back. One of Tessa’s trusted people. If my hunch is right, he would validate it.
Our engines rev through the busy streets, weaving in and out of the traffic. The rumble of the bikes vibrating through our bones. The modern day version of a knight in shining armor.
We get to Mr. Jeremiah’s auto shop, the one that he opened to help those needing to get back on their feet and wanting to focus on a skill set.
“Jeremiah’s?” Joaquin asks, it’s not much of a question, rather a need to understand.
“Yep.” I bluntly say it.
The shop circulates with noise between the echoes of engines to mechanics at work. We walk towards the garage openings, hearing a booming, deep voice take charge.
“Steven, how many damn times I gotta tell, there is a difference between the oil for a 4 cylinder and a 2 cylinder. Do you want to pay for the damages that you’d be making?” Jeremiah sternly asks a young buck staring at him.
“No sir,” he responds shakily. “Good, now do it right or get someone else to do it and we’ll teach it again to you.” Jeremiah dismisses him.
I step further into the shop, “Sounds like someone needs extra time on his homework.” I joke with him, he turns and laughs.
“Keola, my brother. About damn time you come and visit. I told you I’m always looking for a second pair of hands,” he extends out a hand and then pulls me into a hug.
We got close during the time he was recovering from his incident. We would swap stories and share a few laughs.
“I told you, you need to consider a partnership.” I remind him of the offer that was passed to him multiple times. He is hesitant, knowing he is slowly trusting us. We also don’t have the best reputation in the state.
“And what is my answer?” He cocks an eyebrow, looking behind me seeing Donnie and Joaquin.
“You’d think about it,” I say, flashing a smile.
“What can I do for y’all?” Jeremiah turns around walking away through his shop. We follow behind him, ducking and weaving through the hustle of the workers.
“We need some information,” I vaguely say, watching for the people around us.
“Better question is, is this a conversation for certain ears?” He asked, not looking at us, signing off on a work order before slipping it back into the sleeve it was in. He glances back, my face says it all. “Follow me, we’ll talk in my office.”
We continue towards the back, crowding in his office, waiting for him. He sits in his old desk chair, leaning back, resting his hands on his chest. “Can’t give you information if I don’t know what this is about.”
