Which meant that he’d spend the entire time he was in my shop complaining about having to set foot inside, and then go over his car with a fine-tooth comb afterward, in case one of my guys mistreated his baby.
I started handling him personally after his second visit, which was why I found myself listening to him complain about “manufacturers these days who don’t give a shit about anything but squeezing the last dollar out of a man,” a lecture I’d heard enough times I could recite it from memory.
I’d just handed him his credit card receipt when I remembered something. “Kenny Hunt is your nephew, right? Didn’t I hear something about…?” I trailed off, not sure how to approach the delicate subject.
Sammy straightened, face going hard. “Kenny is doing very well, thank you. Whatever you’ve heard is old.”
Shit. Now I've offended the old man.“No, no, I didn’t mean…I haven’t heard anything bad, just the opposite. But, you know, Hunter just got out, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. How to keep him on a good path,” I said, shifting my weight. I should have been more concerned with this kind of stuff before.
Sammy’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, that makes sense. How’s that boy doing?”
“Good. He’s doing real good.” It was true, I realized as I spoke. Truer than I’d given him credit for. “He’s staying with Cole and doing everything he’s supposed to.”
Sammy nodded approvingly. “The best thing we did for Kenny was to give him a clean slate, put everything in the past. He’s committed to the straight and narrow, and holding everything he did before over his head wouldn’t help him with that.”
Sammy’s words hit me in the gut. I’d been doing just that, hadn’t I? Holding on to old grievances, expecting Hunter to make amends at the same time I was waiting for him to fuck up. Treating him like I’d always treated Sue, because I’d watched her throw every opportunity to change out the nearest window.
But Hunter wasn’t like that. Not anymore, anyway. He’d already found a job at a restaurant, barely left Cole’s apartment, and hadn’t even had a drink. He was more measured too, more thoughtful, instead of running on instinct. Gone was the unreliable party boy of four years ago.
Something of my feelings must have shown on my face, because Sammy said, “Lord knows it’s not easy. Kenny sold my sister’s engagement ring—the one from her first husband, the one that died?—for drug money, and forgiving him for that was tough. But I decided it would be a lot easier to figure out how to forgive him than to watch him get high again when he’d done all the hard work to get clean.
“A job wouldn’t hurt, neither. Something to keep him out of trouble,” Sammy added, looking around. “Didn’t he used to work here?”
“Yeah. Yeah, he did.”
All day, between dealing with customers and working on cars, I tried to keep my ear to the ground for any hint of Sue, but no luck.
I took off work a little later than I’d meant to, knowing I was just delaying the inevitable. I did another drive around someneighborhoods I hadn’t hit up yet, and a few that I had, looking for that beat-up red Chevy.
No luck there, either.
I should have turned my car back home and had that long-overdue conversation with Iris, but imagining the look on her face when I told her the truth had sour dread coating the back of my throat and my chest constricting.
So, I drove to Cole’s apartment instead. He was closing up tonight, but Hunter and I needed to discuss something.
He greeted me at the door with his head cocked to one side, his dark eyes assessing, like he was waiting for me to say something ugly.
Shame hit me all over again.
“I haven’t found anything concrete about Iris’s mom. I told you I’d text if I did,” Hunter said.
Well, that didn’t help the twisting in my gut one bit. “That’s not what this is about. I, uh…” I licked my lips. “I have an opening at the shop if you want it.”
He blinked. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll figure something out on my own.”
“You don’t want the job?”
He sucked in a breath. “I haven’tearnedthe job. I know I fucked up. I’m sorry. More sorry than I can say. For stealing from you, lying to you, everything.”
I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for saying that, really. But I’m not here looking for apologies. Just offering you the job if you want it.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. I can pay you better than any restaurant, help you get on your feet. And I can let the past live in the past. Or at least try to.”
He chewed his lip, thinking it over. “When can I start?”
“Tomorrow.”
