Wanda’s so pleased to see Millie at her front door that she refuses to accept the crumpled ten-dollar bill I try to offer her. “I done told you once, I told you a thousand times, boy. That girl is welcome here any time. If I’m home, she can come play with Brandy anytime she likes.”
“I know, I know,” I tell her. “It’ll be late by the time I get back, though.” I feel super shitty; after fighting so hard to take Millie home, I should be spending the night in with her, but I need to work. I need to make money.
Wanda shakes her head, closing my fist around the money I’m still holding out to her. “It’s not a problem, Mason. I got her, don’t you worry. I’ll make sure I feed her and give her a bath. Now hurry on out of here before you’re late. It’s already after eight.”
“Ssshhhh—” I manage to stop myself before I curse. Wanda isn’t a fan of curse words. After eight, though? I got up at five am to go find Romera at the hospital. How can it be so late now? Wanda hooks a perfectly plucked eyebrow, giving me a warning glance. “Sorry. Hurrying’s not going to save me now, though. I’m already late,” I tell her.
“Well, then get on with you!”
I kiss Millie on top of the head, brushing down the fine strands of her hair as she grins up at me. “I’ll see you later, mouse. Be good for Miss Wanda, okay?”
She’s never anything but good, yet Millie nods her head dutifully. She doesn’t go into Wanda’s place until I’m down the hall and gone from sight.
I’ve got a lead foot and I’m blind to the color red as I burn across town. Mac’s in his office when I pull up outside the garage. He’s on the phone, shouting at someone as I hurry across the forecourt and stick my head under the hood of the Chevy Impala I’ve been working on restoring the past couple of days. I think I’ve gotten away with being close to twenty minutes late, but then Mac sticks his head around his office door and hollers at the top of his lungs.
“Get your ass in here, fuckhead! Move!”
Shit.
I’m always surprised by how tidy Mac’s office is. By the look of him, stained vest, ripped pants, grease everywhere—the auto mechanic’s universal uniform—you’d think he’d be messy in all aspects of his life. Turns out he’s pretty OCD, though. Not a paper is out of place on his desk. Almanacs and mechanics guides relating to a vast array of car manufactures are neatly arranged by year and by size on the shelves behind him. The waste paper bin beside his dark stained wooden desk is empty. No pin up girls on the walls. No food wrappers, or empty soda cans. It’s neat as a pin.
“You think I’m a fucking joke, don’t you?” Mac spits. By the wiry vein pulsing in the center of his forehead, and the cloudy bead of sweat running down the side of his face, I can see today was a bad day to be late.
“Absolutely not. Of course I don’t.”
“Then why in fuck would you think it’s okay to show up to work late? AGAIN?”
“I’m sorry. I was at the hospital. Fuck, Mac, I’m trying my be—”
He holds up one hand. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence. I know your kid sister is sick. I know you got a lot on your plate, Mason, I do, but so does every other fucker on the face of the planet. I’m trying to run a business here. Figure this shit out, or you’re gonna be looking for another job. We clear?”
I want to punch a hole in the bastard’s face. It would be more than satisfying to watch him crumple like the sack of shit he is as I plant a solid right hook straight into his skull, but where would that leave me? Without a steady income, and a blackened reputation. Mac is alpha and omega when it comes to body shop repairs in Seattle. One word from him and I’d never work in this city again.
“Yes, Mac. I got it. We’re clear.”
“All right then.” His face softens a little. “And like I’m always saying, if these morning shifts are too tricky for you, you can always take up some night work. I’m never short of that.”
As always, I turn him down flat. Mac’s night work is the most illegal, dangerous, and generally life threatening under-the-table work you could hope to find. I need money, not a criminal record or a shallow grave. “Thanks for the offer, though.” I turn and I get the hell out of there, before he can hint at anything else, and I can feel the sweat running down in between my shoulder blades. I’d better finish this car today, get her up and running in record time, remind Mac that I’m the best there is, otherwise I’m not going to be able to keep him off my back much longer.