by Sasha Gold
“I have eight men.”
Wes nods. “Well, how about that?”
My brother has taken on his wife’s speech patterns. We were watching football the other day, me and Wes and the four boys, and a receiver for the Packers made this unbelievable catch on the sidelines to set up the game winning field goal. The play was incredible, in the top five plays I’ve ever seen, and what does he call it? A humdinger. He refuses to use perfectly good words like Fucking A, Holy Shit and You gotta be shitting me. Or even better, You gotta be fucking shitting me. He won’t even say fart and damn anymore. Instead he says toot and darn. Sometimes he’ll say gosh darn for emphasis.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Sure is. Just thought I’d pop in and say howdy.”
My brother and I have always been close, but after the accident we grew even closer. Often, I can tell what he’s thinking or what he’s getting ready to say but today I have no idea what he’s doing here. He’s still dressed in a suit and tie. Me? I’m covered in oil and smell like I always do at the end of the day. Pretty fucking bad.
“You’ve done well here, Trig. It’s a lot busier than when Dad had it.”
I wipe my hands on my pants to try to get rid of some of the oil. “Work’s good. I like it.”
He gazes at me for a long moment. It always bothered him that I didn’t go on to college. Guilt, I suppose. But I really do like my work. I’d much rather work in a garage than sit at a desk all day. I’m lean and fit and make good money fixing semi-trucks. More money than he makes. Not that I’d tell him that. In fact, we almost never talk about our work. Wes and me live in different worlds during the day.
“Got some good news today. About Maggie,” he says. “She’s been accepted to Stowe. School starts in a week.”
“I pretty much assumed she’d get in.”
“She’ll be eligible for work-study. She’ll have to interview of course.”
I snort. If she wants to get hired, she’ll need to clean up her act. She doesn’t swear nearly as much as she used to, but still. College profs won’t want to hire a potty-mouthed brat.
“It would sure help if she had some sort of job history.” He sighs.
I squint at him. Job history. Now I see where this is going. Maggie needs a job. No way is he going to ask me what I think he’s going to ask.
“I heard Mel’s out for a few more weeks. Maybe Maggie could fill in,” Wes offers.
A memory flashes through my thoughts. New Year’s Eve I’d tossed her over my shoulder, smacked her ass and laid her down on the boys’ pallet. What the actual fuck I was thinking I can’t say, but I’ve regretted it every day since then.
The lecture I gave her that night ended a lot differently than I’d expected. Maggie’s been acting strangely ever since. Either she ignores me completely or I’ll feel her watching me, trying to size me up. Wondering.
Now she’s in my dreams every night. She’s young and vulnerable. I shouldn’t think about her that way but I do. It feels like a betrayal. Wes wouldn’t be asking me to give her a job if he knew the dirty things I was imagining this morning in the shower. And he might find his man-talk again. There’s nothing like flinging out a few fucks and assholes to express what you’re really thinking.
I shake my head. “I don’t know, man. Some of the guys here, they’re pretty rough.”
“Can’t you talk to them?”
Yes, I could. I’ve done more than talk to them before. They’re a brutal group. Jesse and Rick have done time for armed robbery. It was ten or twelve years ago, but still. None of them will hesitate to throw a punch if they get pissed off. Not at me, of course. I’d wipe the shop with them if they ever tried, but they fight between themselves over dumb shit. Things can get a little intense around here.
One thing’s for sure. I don’t want them looking at her. Thinking things about her.
“You’ll have to take the posters down,” Wes says, scanning the walls of the garage.
I have ten bays. The men each have their own and I have two. Each guy can put whatever he wants to on his walls, pictures of their kids or girl-friends or wives. Most have a poster with a chic in a bikini or tiny cut-offs. I don’t even notice them anymore, but I can imagine the grumbling if I had them take down their calendars and posters.
“You know I’d do anything for Maggie,” I tell him. “But I don’t want her down here.”
Wes turns to face me. “You know nothing makes me prouder than when one of the kids does something good. When they achieve a goal or win. The boys have done great, but not one of them has blossomed like Maggie. She’s a different girl.”
It’s true. She’s changed. Her hair is still jet black, but she wears different clothes and smiles and talks.
“They told us she was a “flight risk”. Wes makes quote marks with his fingers. “But she’s never even tried to run.”
I clear my throat, grateful she’s not here to roll her eyes or scoff at that remark. The day I took her to my house and threatened bad and dark things has been our little secret. Flight risk. The phrase twists my heart. It makes me want to punch something to think how easily she might have slipped away.
“She’s come so far and I couldn’t be prouder.” Wes puts his hand on my shoulder. “I just want to see that kid win. Ya know?”
Yeah. I know. Shit…I am so fucked. He knows I can’t say no. “How long?”
“A few weeks. A month max.”
Closing my eyes, I draw a deep breath. “Okay.”
“And you need to make it look like it’s your idea.”
“Of course.”
Obviously. Maggie would be spitting nails if she knew I was doing this to be nice. That girl’s got stubborn pride and would rather do without than receive help.
“Right. Got it.”
“And they might ask you for a reference down the road, so you’d have to say nice things about Maggie.”
I sigh. How did I walk into this? “That’s not a problem. I’ll say nice things about her. Assuming she does a good job.”
I know she’ll do a spectacular job. She operates like a battlefield general when she helps Jane with the boys. Every cupboard, drawer and closet in the house is tidy and organized and that sure as hell wasn’t Jane. Maggie has the kids hopping, sorting laundry, getting homework done, keeping their rooms tidy. I know she’ll have things running better than Mel ever thought about.
The smile on my brother’s face is a mile wide, like he just scored the winning touchdown. He doesn’t even say good-bye. He just gives me a goofy look, turns on his heel and hurries out of the garage. I can hear him on his phone as he crosses the parking lot and he’s telling Jane how he talked me into a job for Maggie. He sounds incredulous. Which pretty much sums up how I’m feeling.
Chapter Fifteen
Maggie
The lady who does my hair, Tammy, is Jane’s best friend since middle school. They’ve known each other since elementary and Jane’s clearly pleased as can be that I’ve agreed to try something new.
It’s hard to argue with Jane. She’s kind and only wants what’s best for me, so if she wants to see my true color, I suppose I can do that for her. Fortunately, she rarely asserts herself when it comes to my decisions.
So, when she told me she’d made an appointment for me with her stylist, I sort of threw up my hands and gave in, and here I am. In a chair at ZaZa’s Hair Salon. For the last fifteen minutes, I’ve listened to Tammy rail against her daughter’s volleyball coach.
My hair is layered with silver packets of foil. Tammy rinsed most of the black out, but my hair looked more brown than red. Jane acts like the color is some sort of miracle, begging to take pictures to send to Wes, but Tammy won’t let her. She wants Jane to wait till she’s gotten me all the way back to my actual hair color.
When my phone buzzes I take it out of my jeans pocket, wondering who could be texting me. Kyle’s gone skiing with his parents. The only other person who contacts me is Jane, so I have to think it’s a w
rong number.
Where are you?
Who is this? I type back.
Trig. Answer the question.
Trig? Is texting me? We’ve never texted or even spoken on the phone. I don’t understand why he’s texting me now. Funny how even his texts are bossy.
I’m at a biker bar.
I suppress a smile and wait for a reply.
Called Za-Za’s? Bullshit.
I’d forgotten he had the tracker app on my phone. That seemed weirdly good. Like he’d always be able to find me. I can’t resist giving him a bad time. I text him back.
Having a cold one w my new friend Snake.
Really…
Weird name huh? He’s frkng huge.
Talking to strangers?
Before I can respond, he sends another text.
Tell Snake I’ll kick his ass if he touches you.
I doubt he thinks I’m at a biker bar, but his response startles me. Tammy’s talking to Jane. I type a quick message.
Jealous?
But I don’t send it. Instead I just look at the word and slowly delete it. I can’t bear to put that idea out there. Ever since New Year’s, Trig’s acted strangely. When he comes for dinner, he ignores me more forcibly than he has in the past. He barely speaks to me, but every so often I’ll catch him watching. Every time, he holds the gaze longer than I can.
So why would he be looking for me in the middle of the day?
The salon door opens and I hear footsteps. Boots. My pulse quickens.
“Can I help you, sir?” the receptionist asks.
“No, thank you.”
Jane yelps and gives me a puzzled look. “Shoot, I wanted to surprise him.”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment. I can’t say if I like the idea of him seeing me like this or not. What bothers me most is how my insides twist with some strange awareness and excitement. Trig is a pain. Annoying and condescending. Yet, seeing him always makes a thrill shoots across my senses.
He steps into Tammy’s booth, his reflection appearing in the mirror before me.
“Morning, Jane. Tammy.”
He doesn’t greet me, but gives me a quick nod. A smile tugs at his lips as his gaze lingers for a long moment. Tammy’s about half done putting my hair in foil. It takes time. She smears stuff onto a foil square and wraps a small section of my hair. I’ve been here almost half an hour and she’s just starting on the back. This would have gone faster if she and Jane hadn’t been talking and laughing so much.
“Hey Trig,” Jane chirps. “Fancy seeing you here. Maggie’s getting a makeover.”
He lifts a brow and his smile turns into a smirk. Shoving his hands into his jacket, he leans against the doorway, like he’s going to stay a while and watch the show.
“How are you doing, handsome?” Tammy asks.
She smiles at him in a way that I don’t like and I wonder how well she knows Trig. She’s divorced and if she’s Jane’s age, she’d be in her early thirties. Did the two of them ever have some sort of thing going on? Gritting my teeth, I wait to hear why the hell he’s shown up at the salon.
“You here to get a makeover too?” I inject a little extra sass to my question.
“Ooh, honey, I’d love to get my hands on you,” Tammy coos as she wraps a strand of my hair in the crackly foil.
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. She might be openly flirting with Trig, but he doesn’t pay her any attention.
He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on me. A gleam of warning flickers. Even though he’s still smiling, I get the message loud and clear. But what’s he going to say to me giving him a bad time? We’re sitting in the middle of a lady’s hair salon. He’s not going to give me shit here in front of every one.
“I need someone to answer my phone,” he says, his smile fading.
His grey eyes hold mine and the sounds of the busy salon fade, making me feel like it’s just the two of us. I wait for him to say more but he just stands there. Quiet. His hair is mussed but he’s clean-shaven, making me wonder why he’d gone through the trouble. During the work week, he’s always scruffy looking. Not that I’m complaining. I like both versions of Trig. A lot.
Jane, the ever-helpful, responds just a little too quickly. “Maggie could do that.”
Blinking rapidly, her lips part like she’s about to say more, but thinking better of it, she snaps them shut.
This, right here, is a set up. Completely. The tension in Trig’s jaw tells me he doesn’t want me working in his garage but he’s offering anyway and Jane’s fidgeting. The way her hands flutter, I can tell she’s either behind this or knew about it all along.
“I’ll come answer the phone for you, Trig. I’d work for you any day.” Tammy winks at his reflection in the mirror.
Trig glances at Jane. Inwardly I smile because he’s just confirmed my suspicions about them collaborating on a job for me. I know Jane so well, I don’t even have to look at her to know she’s just shrugged and widened her eyes in bewilderment.
“You like answering the phone, Tammy?” I ask. “Think you want to give up your job as a stylist to work in a smelly garage?”
Trig frowns at my choice of words.
“If I had a boss like Trig, I would.” Her tone is playful, lighthearted and she winks at me.
Trig draws a pained sigh and growls softly as he glances at me. “I’m sure you’d be great, Tammy, but I’d imagined Maggie in this particular… position.”
He coughs and turns away to clear his throat. When he turns back, his face is flushed.
Weird. I’ve never seen him flustered and wonder what’s gotten into him. I can’t imagine working for Trig and I’m pretty sure I’d hate being bossed around by him. He already tells me what to do every time I turn around. Okay, slight exaggeration, but he likes to give orders and if he were paying me, I’d have no recourse.
“All you need to do is answer the phone and schedule jobs,” he says. “You can study or read or whatever. It’s not hard.”
He coughs again, making me wonder what his deal is. It’s not hard. Well, thanks a bunch. I want to tell him to shove off, but I need the money. Hendricks told Wes and Jane he can get me into a program that will pay for tuition, some Lion’s Club grant for at-risk youth, but there are a lot of other expenses of going to school, like gas money and parking and books and all sorts of fees. The at-risk youth grant bugs me a little… I had no idea I was at-risk, but I need the money so I don’t dwell on it.
There was a time when I would have told them all to fuck off, but I’m not going to argue. No way can I get a loan in two weeks’ time. I either accept the help from them or take it from Jane and Wes. While the grant’s a huge help, I still need to get books and gas money and who knows what else.
“I’ll take it,” I tell him.
Jane gasps, Trig’s eyes widen and even Tammy looks surprised.
“It’s just for a few weeks, Maggie,” he says. “Starting as soon as you can.”
“That’s fine.” My heartbeat stutters. I’m going to see him every day, not just a few times a week at a noisy dinner table. He’s trying to help me. I lead my life, trying to make something with what I’ve got and he’s watching. Noticing.
“Thank you, Trig,” I say softly.
“All right then.” He was prepared for an argument, I suppose and now that I’ve agreed, he stands there awkwardly. He nods at Jane and Tammy and me. “I’ll get back to work.”
He turns and his heavy footfalls fade. Several of the stylists tell him good-bye and the receptionist suggests he come back soon. And then he’s gone.
Chapter Sixteen
Trig
Two days later, I barely recognize Maggie when she walks into my garage. Her hair is copper-colored and hangs, straight as a pin, down to the small of her back. She wears an outfit she must have borrowed from Jane. A skirt and sweater. A skirt. I never thought I’d see the day Maggie would wear something other than jeans and a hoodie. With her hair out of her face she’s gorgeous. Fucking gorg
eous.
Five seconds after she walks in I know… Hiring Maggie is an epic mistake.
All work grinds to a halt. The men draw closer and stare at her like they’ve never seen a female before. Maybe I should introduce her to them but the way they’re eyeing her pisses me off. Instead, I take her to the office to show her around. Not much has changed since I took over from my father. I have the basic equipment and all she needs to do is answer to phone.
“Are you going to give me some sort of training?” She slips out of her jacket.
It’s hard not to stare. Jane’s conservative and too-big clothes can’t hide the fact that Maggie has curves. “Answer the phone. Be polite. Don’t cuss. Don’t touch anything.”
Moving to the window that overlooks the shop, one of my men is hanging around like a pup looking for a scrap of bread. I glare at him, a silent command to get back to work. He lifts his brows, grins at me and strolls back to his bay. The rest of the men seem to be busy. Maybe the lecture I gave them yesterday about staying away from Maggie will be enough. If not, I’ll call another meeting this evening and make my point a little clearer.
“Answer the phone and don’t touch anything,” she muses while she looks around. “That sounds pretty complicated. Maybe I should write it down.”
“Also, don’t be a smart-ass or talk to my men.”
She smiles at me and my blood heats. Great. I’m going to leave my office with a raging hard-on.
“I can do more, for you, Trig.”
Jesus.
“Wes told me about the accounting software you use and I read up on some of the basic stuff.”
She folds her arms across her chest, accentuating the curve of her breasts, breasts she’d kept hidden under her bulky hoodie. Jane’s clothes fit her, sort of. My sister-in-law was rubbing off on Maggie which was a good thing. Maggie needed that motherly influence. Like Wes I see Maggie becoming more like Jane, Soon she’d start with some of Jane’s expressions. I tried to imagine Maggie muttering good gravy… hunky-dory… okey-dokey…
You would think this image of Maggie, the good, Christian girl, would ease my throbbing cock, but strangely, it’s no help. I’m too far gone.
