by Alexa Land
“How could anyone outgrow this?”
TJ shrugged and said, “He’s a fourteen-year-old boy, and they’re simple little wind-up toys.”
“They’re so much more than that.”
He seemed embarrassed and pleased at the same time. “Keep it,” he said, gesturing at the turtle, who’d come to a stop near my fingertips.
“Really?”
“I mean, if you want to.”
“I do. Thank you so much.” I cupped both hands around the little turtle and wondered how I was going to keep it safe on the bus ride home. As if he knew what I was thinking, TJ found a small, empty box on the shelf beside him and put it in front of me. “Thanks again.” I didn’t want to pack it away just yet, so I placed the turtle on top of the box and asked, “How did you learn to do this?”
“I learned electronics repair in prison, but even before that, I was always taking things apart to see how they worked. I dissected a wind-up toy at one point, and saw that the mechanism was pretty basic. Then one day, I was cleaning off my workbench and noticed a piece of bent metal that reminded me of an alligator’s jaws. It was shortly after I met Josh, and I got the idea to make him a present.”
“Do you think you could…never mind.”
TJ asked, “What?”
“Nothing. It was silly, and I just realized I didn’t even tell you why I’m here. I brought back your shirt and shoes. Thanks for lending them to me.”
“Please tell me what you were about to say, Zachary.”
I chewed my lip for a moment and looked up at him through my lashes. Finally I said, “I was going to ask if you could show me how to make one of these.”
His face lit up. “I’d love to show you.”
“You don’t have to. I’m no good at making stuff. Besides, I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”
He picked up a wooden tray from the shelf beside him and made room for it on the table. “I’m far from busy,” he said, “and I’d love to show you. It’s not complicated at all, once you know how. If you want, we could start by assembling something that already has all its pieces. There are a couple here that just need to be put together. Would you rather make a bear or a cat? The mechanism’s the same in both of them.”
“Cat, please,” I said softly. I watched as his slender, graceful hands plucked little bits and pieces from the box and lined them up in front of me on the workbench. After a moment, I told him, “I don’t think I’ll be able to do this. It looks way too complicated.”
“If I can do it, so can you. I promise. All it takes is a bit of patience and learning how everything fits together.”
I didn’t look at him as I asked, “Why are you willing to teach me this?”
“Because I think you’ll be good company, and because you’re the first person who’s ever gotten excited about these things. Most people just say, ‘aw that’s cute,’ and then they forget about them twenty seconds later.” He picked up a silver octopus, which was maybe two inches at its widest point, and twisted its head a couple times. When he returned it to the tabletop, it started moving very organically, all eight curled tentacles working independently to propel it forward. “I’m actually proud of them, and I don’t have a lot of reasons to say that in my life.”
“Oh my God, that’s incredible! Can we please wind up more of them?”
He smiled at me and said, “Absolutely.”
For the next half hour or so, snakes slithered, frogs hopped, dragons stalked, dinosaurs stomped and looked around, fish swam, and I was utterly charmed. TJ and I had relocated to the linoleum shop floor so we could turn his huge collection loose. I was on my hands and knees, watching a four-inch-tall bronze hydra strike and advance as I asked, “How do you do it? Their movements are so lifelike, and not one has failed to do what it should.”
TJ was sitting cross-legged a couple feet from me, and he said, “Trial and error. They pretty much never move correctly the first time, so I make some adjustments and try again. Sometimes it only take a couple tries, but most often they take a lot of fine-tuning. Getting that octopus right took about four months. Not full-time or anything crazy like that. I’d set it aside and come back to it.”
“Do you ever just want to chuck one across the room when you just can’t get it to do what you want it to?”
“No. The failure isn’t theirs, it’s mine.”
“You must have the patience of a saint. Seriously.”
He grinned at that and pushed himself to his feet. As he carefully stepped around all the little wind-up creatures on the floor, he asked, “Do you want some coffee? I’m going to make a fresh pot. Then if you want, we can get started on your cat.”
“Sure. You just have to promise you won’t think I’m an idiot when it turns out I can’t actually build it. Well, more of an idiot. That ship has clearly sailed, given what you already know about me.” I sat back on my heels and picked up a silver and blue dragon, running a finger over its impossibly tiny scales.
TJ had stepped around the wall separating the storeroom from the shop, and he leaned into the doorway and raised his brows. “After all the things I told you about myself this afternoon, you can’t honestly think I’d judge you for the heroin. I don’t like the fact that you’re using, and I’m worried about you, but I don’t think badly of you for it. I understand exactly where you are right now.”
He went back to the coffee pot, which was apparently just inside the doorway, and I stared at the dragon for a while before blurting, “I scared myself last weekend.”
TJ came back into the room and sat on the floor again. His voice was gentle as he asked, “When you passed out?”
I couldn’t look at him. “Then, and later, too. When I left here Sunday morning, I went back to my dealer’s house to get my phone and shoes. That somehow turned into a huge bender. I woke up feeling like shit with no idea what day it was. Turned out it was Tuesday night, and I’d missed my shift at work. It felt so….”
“Out of control.”
“Yeah.” I kept my eyes on the dragon and carefully traced the sharp spines along its back and tail. “I took so much that I spent the next couple days going through withdrawal. I thought I was getting the flu at first, that’s how bad I felt. Eventually, I realized what was happening to me. I still don’t feel quite right, actually.”
“I can get you help, Zachary. All you have to do is ask.”
“I don’t want help. I just…I needed to tell someone what happened, and you’re the only person who knows I use. I can’t talk about this stuff with anyone else.” I chewed my lower lip for a moment, then said, “I’d never lost time like that, and it kind of freaked me out. Now…shit, it’s just like you said.” I finally looked up at him. “Remember when you asked me how often I think about my next fix? It’s all the damn time now. If I’m awake, I’m thinking about it. It’s like one weekend of stupidity tipped the scales from recreational user to addict.”
“You can still make the choice to quit.”
“The thing is…I don’t want to. I just want to dial it back to where it used to be. But I’m craving it so bad now that the next time I use, I’ll probably overdo it again. I think I won’t be able to help myself.” I sighed quietly and said, “As much as that feeling of losing control scares me, I can’t quit. I won’t, because I need this, TJ. Despite the risks, despite everything, I need this.”
TJ was quiet for a long moment. I expected a major lecture about how stupid I was. Instead, he just put his hand on mine and told me, “When you’re ready to quit, please come to me so I can help you. If I was religious, I’d be praying with everything in me that this doesn’t kill you before you reach that point.”
He stood up again and began collecting his little metal creations. After a pause, I got up and helped him, and I said, “I can’t believe you didn’t lecture me.”
“It would just push you away, and that’s the last thing I want. You need a friend right now, one who’s been where you are, and all I can do is k
eep reminding you I’m here whenever you need me,” he said. “Besides, until you hit rock bottom, I don’t think you’ll be ready to give up heroin, and all the lectures in the world won’t change that.”
“I think I hit rock bottom last weekend.”
“It gets so much worse than that.”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
TJ shook his head. “I’m just stating a fact.”
I frowned and turned my back to him, then spent some time lining up the little parts he’d left on the tabletop. Finally, I asked, “Do you still want to show me how to make the wind-up cat? You don’t have to.”
He packed the last of the figures in one of the tackle boxes he used for storage and closed the lid. “Of course I do. I’ll bring us some coffee, and then we can get started.”
*****
We worked for hours. The task was challenging, partly because the parts where unbelievably tiny. I had to watch what I was doing through a big magnifying glass on a stand, and the delicate tools felt ridiculously clunky. I kept getting frustrated at first, but I was determined to see it through.
It got a little easier after a while. TJ patiently talked me through every step. He also showed me how to use the soldering iron, which was a lot of fun, and told me I was a fast learner. He probably said that to try to build up my confidence.
TJ was great company. Some people drained me, but he had the opposite effect. He was so calm and soft-spoken that it was a pleasure to be around him. I was grateful that he didn’t try to slip in public service announcements about the dangers of drugs. He also didn’t try to fill every lull with conversation, and the silence was soothing.
Eventually, I was able to get the two-inch cat figure put together. I was sure it wouldn’t work, and I told TJ that as I gave the collar mechanism a couple twists. I held my breath as I set its tiny metal feet on the tabletop.
When I let go, it started walking. The movement was stiff-legged and jerky, but I whooped with joy and exclaimed, “I can’t believe it! I was sure I messed it up a million times over, but it’s actually working!”
TJ looked delighted. “I knew you could do it.”
“Well, I didn’t.” The cat came to a stop, and I gave the collar a couple more twists. When it took off again, I clapped my hands like a kid, then turned to TJ and said, “Thank you so much for showing me how to do this. I appreciate your patience, especially when you had to explain some of the steps more than once.”
“You’re welcome. This was a lot of fun.” He seemed to mean it. TJ indicated the box with the turtle on it and said, “I think they’ll both fit in there, so you can get them home in one piece.”
I thought about it for a moment, then said, “This little thing means so much to me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this proud of something I made.” I took TJ’s hand, put the cat in his palm, and covered it with my other hand. “That’s why I want to give it to you. I know that’s weird, since it was yours to begin with. But it’s the only way I can thank you properly for this afternoon.” I withdrew my hands and colored slightly.
“I’ll accept it on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Promise me you’ll come back soon and build something else with me.”
I smiled at him and said, “I’d love to.”
“Great.” TJ carefully nestled the cat in a little carton and slipped it in the pocket of his flannel shirt. Then he glanced at me and said, “It’s almost dinnertime.”
I scrambled off the stool and exclaimed, “Oh shit, I’m sorry! I took up your whole day! You should have said something sooner. I’ll let myself out, and—”
“That’s not what I meant. I was just going to ask if you wanted to have dinner with me. The Thai place a couple doors down is terrific, we could go there.”
“Oh! Yeah, absolutely. That sounds great.”
“Wonderful.” He had the nicest smile, warm and genuine, and it felt good when he directed it at me.
I pulled out my phone to check the time and said, “It’s a quarter to seven, I had no idea! We’ve been doing this for almost four hours.” Even more remarkable was the fact that I’d only thought about heroin in passing during that time, because I’d been concentrating so intently on the task at hand.
“It was fun,” he said. “You’re good company.”
“So are you.” I checked my text messages and muttered, “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I totally forgot I have a date tonight. He texted to tell me he’s on his way to pick me up. I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to have dinner with you.”
TJ looked disappointed, but he covered it quickly and said, “It’s fine. I should have known you’d have a date on Friday night. It was dumb of me to ask.”
“I never go on dates. Seriously, never.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to tell him that. “And I completely forgot about this one. He’s going to show up at Chance’s house in fifteen minutes.” I shot Alastair a quick text, apologizing profusely and offering to meet him at the restaurant, while TJ busied himself with cleaning up the workbench. A new message appeared, and after I read it, I said, “He offered to pick me up here. Is that alright?”
“Of course.”
Things felt a bit awkward between us all of a sudden. I didn’t know why. I mumbled a thank you and texted Alastair with the address, then busied myself by helping clean up.
About twenty minutes later, my date’s arrival was announced by the roar of his car’s powerful engine. My back was to the storefront, and TJ glanced outside and muttered, “Subtle.”
I looked over my shoulder and frowned a little. The bright red Acura did scream for attention. I explained, “He’s a street racer. I met him through Jessie, back when he used to race, too.” The engine noise cut out, and Alastair pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head as he got out of the car. He was wearing a slim-fitting pearl gray suit over a white shirt with an open collar, and I muttered, “Shit, I made him promise we weren’t going anywhere fancy.”
My date seemed utterly out of place among the second-hand TVs, but he was all smiles as he breezed into the building. “Ah, I’ve found you,” he exclaimed. “Bit out of the way, this Peartree Place.” He stuck his hand out to my companion and said, “Hello there, I’m Alastair.”
“TJ.”
“Pleasure to meet you. This your shop?” When TJ nodded, Alastair said, “I admire a man who can fix things. I like to tinker with engines, but I’m a rank amateur.” He turned his radiant smile on me and said, “Shall we? We can still make our reservation.”
“One sec.” I packed the little turtle in its box and put it in my shirt pocket, then turned to TJ and said, “Thank you again for everything. I’ll see you soon, okay?” There was some sort of strong emotion in his eyes, but he just gave a single nod. I felt guilty for some reason as I followed Alastair out the door.
Chapter Eight
Alastair held the car door for me, and I lowered myself into the sleek, black leather interior. “Thanks for picking me up,” I said when he got behind the wheel. “I’m sorry I lost track of time and made you go so far out of your way.” The headache I’d been ignoring all day demanded my attention, and I squinted a little and rubbed my forehead.
“No worries.” The engine sounded like a deep growl when he turned the key in the ignition, and I grabbed for my seatbelt. It was a relief when he pulled slowly from the curb.
Alastair was a bit distracted as he peered at the street signs and navigated his way out of the neighborhood. To attempt conversation, I said, “When you and TJ were introducing yourselves, I realized I don’t know your last name.”
He glanced at me and mumbled, “It’s… uh….”
I grinned a little. “Did you forget it?”
He paused before saying, “This is going to sound daft, but I’m using a false surname while I’m in California. I’m supposed to tell you my last name’s Wilde. I picked that on account of Oscar Wilde, always been a big fan.”
“The thing is, I don’t want to start off lying to you. That just feels wrong. So if I tell you my real name, do you promise to keep it a secret?”
“Of course.”
“It’s Alastair Spencer-Penelegion.”
“It sounds like you’re named after that huge department store in London.”
“Technically, Penelegion’s is named after me,” he said. “Or, more specifically, my family.”
I drew in my breath and whispered, “Holy God.”
Alastair glanced at me again and said, “Please don’t let that throw you off. I’m just a bloke who goes to college and likes cars.” Whose family happens to be mind-bogglingly wealthy, I mentally added. I’d already figured out he came from money, it was pretty obvious. But the Penelegion fortune was another thing entirely. The world-famous department store was only the tip of the iceberg.
I had a million questions, but somehow they all got distilled down to, “What are you doing?”
“Driving a gorgeous guy to dinner.” He shot me a smile. “Would’ve thought that’d be fairly obvious.”
“You know what I mean. Well, okay, maybe you don’t, because that was a stupid way to ask it. What are you doing in California, and street racing, and asking out guys like me, when you should be sipping champagne in a private jet?”
“I’m enjoying a few glorious years of freedom before I turn twenty-one and all the responsibilities of the Penelegion financial empire land on me like a toppled pyramid.”
I thought about that for a few moments, then said, “Makes sense, actually. But should you be out on your own like this? I thought extremely wealthy people always traveled with bodyguards.”
“If I told you all the security measures in place right now, you’d be astounded. Suffice to say, nothing’s going to happen to either of us over dinner.”
“That’s…kind of weird.”
