It’s worth thinking about.
If they were really that desperate, I thought with a sad smile, then they might take me.
I sighed. I really ought to be more cheerful. After all, I’d escaped Luke Lowry, mom’s creepy friend, and I was living here. That was much better than two months ago! And I’d managed to do that alone. With some help from Tanya, of course.
I was sure I could find a job.
I lay down again, my eyelids drooping with weariness, thinking about the job at the bike shop.
I stirred awake, feeling the softness of the pillow under my head and the warmth of a soft blanket. “Amelia?” somebody called, making my eyes open wearily. “Amelia? Are you awake?”
“What?” I groaned, sitting up. I was surprised it was morning already. The bright light flooding in through the curtains suggested it would be a good day. I rubbed my eyes and started making up my bed.
“Good morning,” Tanya said cheerily from over at the stove. “Coffee, anyone?”
I gave her a look. “What a question.”
She laughed, and I heard the clink and rattle of the coffee mugs as she set them out. Coffee was something Tanya was passionate about. Tanya was, now that I thought about it, passionate about everything. It was the thing I loved most about her.
“Hey, girl!” she said, pouring a cup of coffee and bringing it over to the table. I had hastily pulled on jeans and a blouse, my tousled hair hanging down to my shoulders, unbound. “You look stressed.”
“Not really,” I said. I reached for the coffee, taking a sip. The bitter taste woke me. I blinked, feeling my brain slowly get into action. “Just thinking.”
I had woken up with the newspaper beside me. I was sure now that I wanted to apply. The address was nearby, in the industrial part of the city. I could get a bus there. I was still making plans when Tanya’s voice interrupted me.
“What’s up?” she said. “Are you okay? I just asked if you want fried egg.”
“Oh!” I shook my head. I hadn’t heard her. “I mean, yes. Please.”
She stared at me. “What’s up?” she asked. I heard her open the bottle of oil, the slight gulp of the pouring of it, and then the click as she put it back. She turned around to face me. “You seem stressed. I haven’t seen you like this in ages. I hope you’re not pissed off at me?”
“Tanya!” I shook my head, laughing, even though I did have a lot on my mind. “Why would I be? You’ve been so nice to me.”
“I just cleared some space in my living room. It’s nothing,” Tanya said gently.
The notification pings on Facebook bothered me as I glanced down. I knew who it was: Luke Lowry. He kept pestering me. I was scared of his unwillingness to leave me alone, but I didn’t know what to do. And it wasn’t him so much that was on my mind. I kept on thinking about the job possibility, and I didn’t let my mind stray to him and how frightened he made me.
“If it’s that job you’re thinking about,” Tanya said, surprising me with her insightfulness, “maybe Tex could help? He said he knows the place. He could take you there or something.”
“That’s really nice,” I said warmly. “But I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Amelia, sweetie… don’t be silly. You’re my friend. It’s what friends do. And not only that—you’re a sweet, wonderful woman. I’d have to be a monster not to help you. Anyone would.”
“Thanks, girlfriend.” I swallowed hard. My voice was raw. I was deeply moved by her statement. Maybe she was right, I thought, as she started frying the eggs. I went to tidy up the mess from preparing the coffee. Maybe I should think more highly of myself. If she could see good in me, then I could, too.
And maybe it was time to take the plunge and apply for that job. I should start to believe in myself. After all, bike-shop owners couldn’t be that scary, could they?
2
Carter
It was very hard not to hit somebody sometimes. I knew I shouldn’t, but at that moment, I wanted to hit him. I looked down at the desk and breathed slow, steady breaths.
My one chat with a therapist—which had been a few days after my discharge from the army—had taught me that it was better to slow down before you did something spontaneous. Straight out of Anger Management 101. But it was still hard.
“What the hell is all this mess?” I shouted quite loudly, but nobody took any notice. I didn’t expect anybody to. After all, only my brothers—Matthew and Mark—were in the shop, and they never took me seriously anyway.
“Shit.”
I looked down at the desk. The notepapers with our header, “Brand’s Bike Shop—the best bike shop,” were scattered over everything, including the month’s calendar, an incomprehensible schedule, and loose receipts. It was chaos.
How am I supposed to work when I don’t know what’s supposed to happen when?
I felt my hands ball into fists.
“Carter? Hey! Carter! You in there?” somebody shouted from the workshop outside.
I swore under my breath. “Mark? What the hell is going on out there?”
“I’m Matthew. Would you please not do that? It’s undermining.”
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. My younger brothers were identical twins. Yes, they did sound similar when they spoke. And I understood that they hated it when people got them confused—admittedly it happened less now that they were twenty-eight.
“Sorry, Matthew. I’m stressed.”
“I can hear that.” Matthew appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just don’t know whose repair order we should work on next. How much I was paid this week or even last month. Or who called. What the hell are we going to do about it, eh?”
I gestured at the front office, the desk, the telephone. It was a real mess. People had just been writing receipts when the work was done and throwing them on the desk. Nobody had filed anything for months. I understood it—when you’re working on engines all day and juggling customers, you don’t have time to file things. Or answer calls. Or do ledgers.
I didn’t know what to do.
Matthew shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the boss.”
That was the other problem. At thirty-nine, I was the boss of Brand’s Bike Shop. It was a position that I still reluctantly filled, even though I’d been doing it since our parents passed away when I was twenty-two. Life and circumstance had thrust me into this position of custodian of the family shop.
“Okay,” I said softly. One thing I had learned after seventeen years was that, if people saw you as in charge, you had to act like you knew what you were doing and make a plan, even when you had no idea what the next step was. “We’ve put out an advertisement for the job of secretary. So far, we haven’t got any applicants. Until we get a secretary, we’re just going to have to be more organized, okay? Receipts go in here.” I picked a book up off the desk. I had no idea what it was, but now it was for storing our receipts. “The schedule is here.” I threw down one of the stray pages. “And whoever’s closest answers the phone and writes details in here.” I picked up a pad of paper that was half-buried on the desk. “That work for you?”