Motorhead

by Kate Gilead

  “Thank you,” she says, “it’s nice to meet you, too.”

  “Shall I get started on Mr. Silverman’s vehicle, boss?”

  “Yeah, go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

  Leading Marie into my small, cluttered office, I quickly gather up a pile of invoices and stack them to one side.

  Her eyes widen when she sees how much paperwork there is.

  “Yeah. I told you, there’s a lot. Don’t worry if you can’t get it all done.”

  “No, it’s cool. Is all this just from this month?”

  “Yep. I usually stay up late and just get through it all.”

  “This is…this is a lot of work. Mollenkamp Motors is busy as hell.”

  “Yeah. We do okay, but honestly, it’s overwhelming sometimes. I’ll have to hire someone to help me sooner or later.”

  She nods, already gathering up papers and looking at them.

  “Those are all packing slips. They need to be sorted, matched to their invoices, then input into the system for payment. I’ve been doing payables on the fifteenth and thirtieth of every month.”

  “Shit! That must be hard on you. Today’s the fourteenth, so this is good timing then,” she says.

  “Yeah.” I feel sheepish about it being so last-minute but she doesn’t seem to mind.

  She picks up a pile of papers and flicks through them quickly. “I know all these other suppliers, too,” she says. “That will make things easier.”

  “Good,” I say. I point to an in-basket on my desk. “All those are work orders which are finished and waiting invoicing. Some are paid already, which just need to be posted. But some are on account. It says on each order which is which.” She picks up the first few in that pile, looks through them, and nods. “I need to get some printed and ready to be mailed, and some just need to be emailed.”

  “You still have clients that like snail-mail too, huh?”

  “Yep. All the older ones. Here, you sit down and fire up the computer.”

  Taking a seat in my desk chair, she turns the computer on. When the loading screen appears, she says, “Oh, it’s Ritty,” naming the auto shop software I’m using. “No need to show me anything, I know it already.”

  “Cool. I thought you might.”

  “Do you want the work orders stamped after they’re posted?”

  “Yes, please,” I say, pointing to my little collection of stamps for paperwork.

  “And then, filed?”

  “Yes, please,” I say. “The cabinets are under the stairs. I can show you…”

  “Nah, no need. I’ll figure it out.” She smiles up at me. “I can take it from here, babe.”

  Babe. I love it when she calls me Babe.

  I could get used to this…having her here, taking care of paperwork and calling me Babe.

  Scooping the messy pile of paperwork from the in-basket, she deftly sorts it by date as I watch.

  She looks up at me again, a glint in her eye. “Are you going to stay here and loom over me all day?”

  “Nope. Heh. You obviously know what you’re doing, pretty much.”

  “Yeah,” she smiles. Mmm, that smile. “Pretty much.”

  I bend for a kiss. It’s so nice, I linger for another. And another.

  She laughs. “Did you want me to do this, like, today?”

  “Yes. Now, stop distracting me and get to work!”

  “Yaz, Boss,” she says, giving me a saucy salute.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” I say, then I dash out the door, grinning.

  Due to unforeseen difficulties, my project with Abraham turns into an ordeal that takes up the whole morning.

  By the time we’re in the home stretch, Marie is just finishing the paperwork. She completes, in a few hours, what would take me a day and a night to deal with.

  If that isn’t enough, she reports to me that not only is all the invoicing ready to mail, and all the bills ready for me to pay, she’s set up the inventory module properly and it will now prepare purchase orders for me at the touch of a key.

  Then she hurries off and disappears while Abraham and I get back under the hood of the vehicle we’re working on for the final push to get the job done.

  We finish up right before lunchtime. When I go use the shop restroom to wash up, I see that it’s so sparkling clean, I hate to dirty it up again.

  She cleaned it within an inch of its life.

  Holy crap. Is this how she usually works… or is she just trying hard to impress me?

  Not that I’m complaining.

  Abraham goes into the restroom after me. When he comes out, he catches my eye and we both grin.

  Hmmm.

  Next, I go into my little office. She’s not there. Must be upstairs, then. Quickly, I sit at my desk, open the accounting program and check over her work.

  Everything looks good.

  Next, I look at what she did with the invoicing, and then try out the inventory-slash-purchasing system she set up.

  It’s all good.

  Damn… color me impressed!

  Abraham calls out that he’s taking off for lunch. I take that as my cue to head upstairs and find her.

  She’s in the kitchen, fixing lunch. Ham sandwiches, pickles, quartered apples and yoghurt. A tall glass of chocolate milk stands next to each of our plates.

  “I see you found the chocolate syrup,” I say, kissing her cheek.

  “My favorite,” she replies.

  “This is awesome, honey,” I say. “I’m starving!”

  “Me too,” she says.

  We sit down together and each take huge bites of our sandwiches, looking at each other with satisfaction.

  Her phone goes off. She grabs it and reads the incoming message, taking another big bite of food.

  “Mmmph! Ish Shommy,” she says, trying to speak through her mouth full of sandwich. She reads the text, chewing and swallowing. “He…wants to know if it’s okay if he drops by later.”

  “Sure,” I say. “It’ll be nice to meet him properly, face-to-face.”

  She nods absently, already thumbing her reply. Her eyes stay on her phone as the next message comes in.

  “Aww! He…he says my mom packed a bag for me. He’s bringing it with him.” Her voice quivers, her eyebrows quirk upwards and her eyes get shiny with tears.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Yeah! Yes!” She laughs, sniffling. “I’m just…I’m just…I dunno, glad my mother’s not mad at me.”

  “Course she isn’t,” I say. “And your dad won’t be forever, either. Everything’ll be cool, baby. You’ll see.”

  With all the paperwork done, my afternoon is a lot more relaxed than I was otherwise planning. After lunch, Marie is back in my office poking around the computer system to see if there’s anywhere else she can increase its efficiency.

  God bless that girl.

  With the newly freed-up time, Abraham and I make short work of three more jobs.

  Yeah. I could definitely get used to this.

  It’s nearly four o’clock when I hear the familiar sound of a finely-tuned, V8 engine. Abraham and I both turn to look out the open garage bay door as Marie’s midnight-blue Firebird pulls into the parking lot.

  Grabbing a rag, I wipe my hands and go stand under the open door.

  The tall, handsome young lad I saw at the track yesterday gets out of the car, then leans back in and pulls out a fluorescent pink Hello Kitty tote bag. It’s such a bright pink color, it’s almost violent on the eyes.

  “Hi,” he says, nodding at me. “I brought Marie’s bag. I don’t advise looking at it directly without sunglasses.” We both chortle as he holds his hand out towards me. “Tommy,” he says. “Nice to meet ya.”

  “Mark,” I say, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  “Sorry about that, uh, thing at the track yesterday.”

  “Eh, no worries.”

  I introduce him to A
braham, who gives him the usual formal greeting. Marie comes out of the office with an ear-to-ear smile.

  Tommy hands her the big pink bag and the car keys. “You brought my car? Awesome!”

  “Yeah. Mike’s gonna swing by and pick me up in a bit. We’re gonna shoot a few rounds of pool.”

  “Cool. Thanks, Thomas. I really appreciate it.”

  “No probs, sis.”

  “You wanna come in for a minute?” I say. “Have a soda or something?”

  “Sure, thanks. But…um, well… is there somewhere we can talk?” He looks at Marie. “Dad and I talked this morning and he wants to make you an offer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Marie

  “An offer, huh? Why doesn’t he just call me?”

  We’re upstairs. Me and Mark are sitting on the couch, with Tommy sitting in the armchair across from us. “You really need to ask? Look…the thing is, ‘Ree, is that he’s super-stressed about something lately. Mom says he’s not talking to her about it. If he’s not telling her, then he’s not telling anyone. I hope it’s nothing serious, nothing about his health.”

  “Shit,” I say, staring at my brother.

  “Yeah. He was miserable this morning. Insufferable, as Mom would say. ”

  “Shit,” I say again.

  “He was so upset when I said I can’t finish the audit alone. He said he needs it done and finished as soon as possible. But I can’t fucking do it myself and get my own work done.”

  “No, of course not.”

  He nods, then looks at Mark. “My Dad’s a tough person to deal with but he’s usually fair, never abusive or anything. There’s something wrong, something going on.”

  “I wonder why he wants the audit finished so quickly all of a sudden,” I say. “Dad, Callum and Hamish procrastinated on it for years, what’s the big deal now?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s what I’m here to talk to you about. He knows he can’t make you come back if you don’t want to. But we need you to help us finish the audit. So he’s asking if you would come back long enough to do it. He’s willing to hire a helper and put Gavin on it full-time, too. He’ll pay us all a bonus and stay out of our way. We should be able to get it done and over before the race.”

  I look at Mark. He’s sitting forward, listening soberly, hand rubbing his chin restlessly.

  He looks back at me and lifts his shoulder a little.

  Your choice.

  “Speaking of the race, what about that?”

  Tommy’s voice lowers as he leans towards me. “He wants us to do it, ‘Ree. He says he’ll bring Callum on as crew boss and stay away from it. The important thing is to complete it and do our best. You know what he always says.”

  I nod. “Finish what you started. But…shit. I don’t know if I want Dad to stay out of it! This race is his baby. It wouldn’t even be happening if not for him.”

  “I know. But it sounds like he’s made up his mind. Anyway, that’s the deal. By the way, Mom wants you to call her. She might ask you to come home. But if you want my opinion, I think it might be better to stay away for a while, if you can. I’m staying at Mike’s, giving Mom and Dad space to mend fences.

  He glances at Mark.

  “She’s welcome here as long as she likes,” Mark says.

  Tears rise in my eyes again. Wiping at them, I nod slowly. “Okay. I’ll come back to work starting tomorrow. And I’ll stay here for now.” I squeeze Mark’s hand.

  “What do you want me to tell Dad about the race?”

  “Tell him I’m in. We’ll stick to the practice schedule and get the race over with too. Tell him… I won’t cause any problems. After that…well, let’s just see what happens.”

  The next day, Gavin and Tommy are waiting for me when I arrive at the office.

  Callum’s in his office, on the phone, from the sounds of it. I can hear his deep voice faintly, through his closed door.

  Hamish and Dad are nowhere to be seen.

  I look at Gavin warily, but he offers me a smile, then grabs me and gives me a quick hug.

  “No worries, Marie,” he says. “We’ll git ‘er done. Everything will be cool.”

  “Okay. Thanks, bro” I say, keeping my tone light. I don’t want to be getting all teary-eyed at work. “Are we gonna hire someone to help?”

  “Dad told Callum to get on it but I thought we could just see how it goes with the three of us. Having to train someone on the fly might actually slow us down.”

  “True,” I say. “Good thinking.”

  “Also, I called a few clients and re-scheduled them, spreading them out over the coming weeks. That should make it a bit easier,” Tommy adds.

  “Yeah,” Gavin nods. “By the end of the week, we should have a better idea how long it will take us anyway.”

  “Alright,” I say. “What about…um. Is Dad gonna be around?” I kind of hope he is, and I kind of hope he isn’t.

  “He said he’ll stay away for now, let things cool off. ”

  “Alright. Well…let’s get cracking.”

  The next few weeks fly past in a blur. Tommy, me and Gavin work feverishly on the audit, counting and sorting, creating records and keying endless values into the system. The tedium never lets up, but having Gavin with us turns out to be a huge help. We soon realize that hiring someone new almost certainly would’ve slowed us down.

  We’re going to get through this, although we’re shaving it close to rapidly approaching Race Day.

  Conspicuous by his absence, Dad makes himself scarce, popping in once in a while, being cordial, but mysteriously, he’s not showing up for work even at the other branches.

  No one seems to know exactly where he’s spending his workdays. However, Sinclair’s parts business is a well-oiled machine by now and the older brothers run it with the other employees without any problem.

  We all speculate about what he’s up to but, at the end of the day…? Dad is Dad, and no one questions his doings.

  Even though I’d told Tommy that it was cool with me for Dad to stay on as crew boss, he hardly ever shows up for practice.

  It’s almost always Callum now. He says Dad’s still the crew boss, but since Callum’s doing everything Dad did, he’s pretty much taken over.

  And when Dad does makes an appearance, it’s brief and hurried.

  Again, he’s cordial. Not cold, not warm, not angry, not happy. Just pops in, asks how it’s going, and gone again before I can blink.

  I’m saddened by my father’s absence…but also, kind of relieved.

  As for our racing chops…well, those first bunch of races where Mark and I tied for first place…?

  Yeah. That seems to have been a fluke.

  Because, as more racers get added to the roster and the track becomes ever more crowded during practice, Mark and I struggle to place in the top three. And we never tie at all anymore.

  No, now, both of us fight for every inch of track against some of the most aggressive amateur drivers in the State.

  In fact, we’ve both had the experience of placing dead last in practice laps. Callum says those are “teaching moments”.

  Yeah. I guess.

  As the big day approaches, my anxiety ebbs and flows. Sometimes, it’s not too bad. Other times, it feels like an enormous shadow hanging over everything.

  At this point, I just want this fucking thing to be over with.

  The Zen of driving has all but abandoned me; my nerves being like nails on a blackboard every lap.

  But I keep it that to myself.

  It’s almost over. I’ve committed myself to making it through the main event.

  However, I can’t deny that the stress is killing me. It’s draining my love of driving and living in the shadow of my fear is beginning to infect my day-to-day existence.

  It’s not worth it.

  At home after every practice race now, Mark and I discuss the finer points of our driving and our vehicle perf
ormance over dinner.

  Every now and then, he probes me about how I really feel about racing. Now that we’re living together and getting to know each other on a deeper level, it’s getting harder to hide the truth about my nerves and my difficulty with crowds from him.

  He definitely suspects that I’m not comfortable with it.

  Tommy and Callum are seeing it, too. On a lesser level, so are Hamish and Gavin.

  My mom questions me but I’m definitely not gonna admit anything to her!

  Everyone in my family, except Dad, has mentioned or asked about it, one way or another. And I’m sure Dad would ask too, if he were around more.

  Brenda, needless to say, has no doubt whatsoever. She made it clear that she does not think I should do it, but now…she’s holding her peace.

  In any case, I don’t need any more stress about it, and I don’t want to lie. So I simply refuse to discuss it with anyone who asks, saying we’ll talk about it after the race.

  Everyone respects the line that I’m drawing.

  On the domestic front, though, things are so much better! I’ve slowly brought more of my clothes over to Mark’s and a few of my favorite possessions too.

  I never expected it to happen this way, but I’ve pretty much left home permanently now. Mark and I are living together openly and enjoying it very much.

  Every time I bring something new over, Mark seems to get happier. He seems to relish having me here. He’s determined––no, eager––to accommodate me. To provide for me…to answer my every need.

  First session classes at OSU have started. I’m going bonkers trying to keep up with school and work and racing. My stress levels are through the roof.

  But!

  But…even though it’s weird not seeing my Mom and Dad and my brother at home every day anymore, I still get to see my family at work. And all my brothers, privately, one by one, tell me to keep the faith, each in their own way.

  They let me know that they think Mark is okay and they’re happy for me. That they respect him for what he’s doing, and they respect my decision to be with him.

  And that he’ll be welcome in the family, as soon as Dad comes around.

  Even Bryce, in California, texts me his best wishes and tells me he’s looking forward to having the two of us out there for a holiday as soon as we can.