MY FATE FOR YOURS

Chapter 5- EAMON

Eamon

 I lean over the hitch I’m welding to Nelson’s new truck. Crazy ass wants everything twice as big and strong as it actually needs to be. I flip down my visor and flick my torch on again.

It took every ounce of self-restraint last night to get through Rachel’s shift. I have no idea how the hell she deals with so many drunk assholes a night. I wanted to call her to see if she got any rest, but her phone ringing would’ve ruined my purpose. Carl gave me more than one headshake through the course of the night, but at least I finished the shift feeling like I was able to do something for her.

Now it’s been a day, and I’m halfway through my day at Stine’s welding, and I keep looking up, wanting Rachel to stop in, but also knowing that if she did, I’d probably shy away. I want to call her, and I’m trying to figure out if this is a friend thing, or if this falls into the slippery territory of my stupid ass move of kissing her. I’m glad she laughed it off and blamed the booze, but a part of me really wanted to finish what we started.

“Eamon!” Jerry calls. “Got a sec?”

“Give me a minute!” I holler back over the sound of clanking steel from the other workers and my torch.

I finish up Nelson’s hitch and set down my gear, wondering what Jerry wants from me. Hopefully he won’t ask about my crazy ass brother because I don’t know what to tell him or mom at this point. Worry tinges at the edge of my thoughts, but I have to think that maybe Tobin just needed some time.

“What can I do for you?” I try to rub some of the black off my hands as I sit across the worn desk from him. Even his office smells like steel and fire. I’m waiting for him to ask me to supervise again, even though I sort of already do because I’ve been here longer. I just don’t want the title. It would be weird.

Jerry leans back in his chair, his thin hair slicked to his head in the heat. “I’m gonna get straight to the point.”

And then he pauses.

I just wait; knowing whatever he wants to talk about is bigger than I was thinking.

“I’m getting old, Eamon. You been here since you were sixteen. Close to eight years.”

Eight years? Is that even possible? The thought makes it hard to breathe. For a while there, I was working two jobs, like Rachel. Working at the refinery in the mornings and coming to work as an apprentice at Jerry’s place. Eight years. Wow.

“You gotta have a stash, E. I’m not saying you need to use it on this, but I wanted to know if you’d like to buy in as a partner here. You’d make more money, but you’d also have to help me manage the books and employees and all that.”

No. The word is solid in my mind, but I can’t say it. It goes with everything Rachel called me on the other night. I planned on sticking with this job. Jerry’s an easy guy to work for. He’s got no problems with me working a couple all-nighters for some long weekends, and I get a few paid weeks a year. The money’s good. The hours are whatever I want them to be, but he’s turning my convenient job into a real one. Something I know I should want. Something I should be excited about. I should be thrilled he asked me.

Jerry’s shop is known all over the south for custom trailers and hitches and roof racks, gates, fences, sculptures even. And he wants me to own half of this.

“I didn’t ask you to marry me, you stupid ass.” Jerry rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to run this place until I die, and right now I don’t want to run it alone. Don’t answer now.  I’m not even in a hurry for an answer, but if you think you might be interested we can sit and talk numbers, okay?”

“Yeah.” I close my eyes briefly and see nothing but Rachel so I snap them open because that’s another part of my life that’s starting to feel tilted. “I’ll think on it.”

“And no, I haven’t heard from your brother, but I’d like a call if you do. He’s got the time, but I’m…” Jerry pushes his lips together.

“I know.” I stand and pull in a deep breath. “Me too.”

“Nice job on Nelson’s truck. Don’t know what he thinks he needs that enormous hitch for, but…”

“But he paid for it.” I give Jerry a half smile before stepping back into the doorway.

He chuckles and waves me out of his office.

I’m itching all over from how much Rachel’s taking over my thoughts, from how Tobin’s still gone and how Jerry wants me to own half of the business he built from nothing. I need to get out of here. I need my bike.

***

“Eamon!” Traive’s face and motocross gear is covered in mud. His helmet’s slung over one arm, and Leslie’s in the other. Classic Traive. His dark hair is wet with sweat, and he’s got the same stubble as always because he trims it that way. He’d never admit it, of course. But I know he does it for the “rock band image” he thinks he’ll need when his band makes it big.

“Came out to kick your ass.” I pull my bike from the back of Dad’s old truck and think again that I should be looking for a Jeep. Open top this time of year would be about perfect.

“You’re on.” He plants a kiss on Leslie’s lips, and she doesn’t even flinch as his mud soaked arm pulls her thin waist into him.

They’ve been attached at the hip since we were twelve or thirteen. We used to give him shit, but he was the first of our friends to round all the bases, which shut us up quick.

“Don’t break anything, baby.” She laughs as she backs up and heads for the stands. The only spot in this huge dirt pit with some shade.

I tighten my pads and slide my helmet on, wishing the parish didn’t have padding and helmet rules because it’s fucking hot today. Maybe we’ll hit the trails after this, so I can shed some of this crap.

“Seen Tobin?” Traive asks, but instead of answering, I kick down and rev my bike to life. I plan on riding as hard as I can today.