Page 11 of Stick Around
“I can’t believethis shit is happening.”
Billy leaned over and reached his arm out to give Nikki’s neck a gruff squeeze. “I know, bro. It’s fucked.”
Nikki slammed his hand down on the breakroom table. “What are we supposed to do? Like, are we closed? Do we keep working? What the fuck? This is so messed up.”
Billy sighed. He had no idea what they were supposed to do. Brian was the adult, the owner, the one in charge. Billy and Nikki just threw wrenches and did as Brian asked.
“I don’t know. What do you think Brian would tell us to do?”
Nikki glared at Billy. “We both know what Mr. Avery would say. He’d tell us to quit bitching and get the work done.”
Billy looked at his brother and mustered up a tight-lipped half-smile. Nikki had been working at Avery Autos for nine years, only a year and a half less than Billy, and Brian was still “Mr. Avery” to him. He chugged the last gulp of coffee from his MAC Tools mug and pushed himself back from the table.
“Exactly.” He stood up and slapped his brother on the back. “So pitter-patter then, eh?”
Billy headed for the back of the shop where he was three-quarters of the way through a job on a Chevelle. He pulled his phone from his pocket, connected to the shop sound system, and chose Brian’s favorite classic rock playlist. He cranked it up and pulled on his work gloves.
It hadn’t even occurred to him not to come in this morning, but once he and Nikki were inside, standing at the coffee maker, watching the steam and listening to the drip, drip, drip, he wondered if he should be somewhere else. What do people do when their bosses die?
He hadn’t been prepared for the police to be there. Or their tape marking off the area of the accident. Or the blood stain where Brian had lay waiting for the ambulance. He’d had to swallow the urge to vomit.
The constable had given them the okay to head into the shop to work, but asked them to keep the doors locked to customers for the day. Maybe tomorrow, too. Nothing to worry about, they had assured him. Regular procedure.
He hadn’t been prepared for how quiet and dark it would be in the shop, either. Billy could count on one hand the number of times he’d gotten to work before Brian in the past ten years. He was always the first one in and the first one out.
Fuck.
He shot up from underneath the hood and whipped a wrench at the metal overhead door behind him. The metallic crash was followed by abang, rattle, rattleas the wrench settled on the floor.
“Fuck!” He paced the shop floor, looking for something else to throw, or smash, or otherwise destroy. His eyes settled on a broken parts washer sitting in the corner. Billy had been trying to take it to the dump for months, but Brian insisted he’d get around to fixing it. He snatched a pry bar from the top of his tool chest and stalked toward the washer. The rage filling his chest exploded from his hands and he swung the heavy metal bar over and over, bashing the machine until he had dented and crumpled it beyond recognition. He bashed the legs off, sending the heavy base skidding across the floor into Nikki’s feet.
“Dude,” Nikki shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”
Billy threw the pry bar to the floor. He turned his back to his brother and ran both hands through his hair, scrubbing at his scalp.
Nikki approached him and placed a hand on his back. “You good? Last night had to have been totally messed up. Why don’t you go home or something?”
Billy took a deep inhale and blew it out between puffed cheeks. “I just can’t believe he’s gone. I was working on that Chevelle and stood up to go ask him something about the firing order, and then I remembered. He’s dead. Fucking dead.” He turned around to face Nikki. “Brian Avery, of all goddamn people. Dead.”
“I know. It’s crazy. I never would have thought Mr. Avery would die. He seemed, like, invincible or something to me. Like a superhero or some shit.”
Billy let out a sad chuckle. “Yeah.”
The brothers stood in silence for a moment. Billy’s eyes scanned the shop. Brian was everywhere, in everything in that shop. He had built Avery Autos from nothing, with no help from anyone. Just the sweat of his own back.
“We gotta keep the shop going,” Billy realized aloud.
“What?” Nikki furrowed his brow.
“The shop. We have to keep it alive. Brian busted his ass for what, twenty-some years building this place? We can’t let it die with him. He’d fuckin’ hate that, Nik.”
Nikki looked around the room and let out a deep sigh. “Yeah. We gotta keep it going for Laur and Mads.” Billy offered a fist, but Nikki shoved it off and scooped his brother into a bear hug. “Now can you quit going friggin’ apeshit in here and get that Chevelle done already? And clean all this shit up while you’re at it.”
Billy laughed and playfully pushed his brother off. “Yeah, bud. I’ll do my best.”
Nikki grinned and headed back to his workstation on the south side of the shop while Billy set about cleaning up the damage he’d done.
As he picked up the bits of parts washer scattered across the floor, his heart rate returned to a regular pace and his breathing calmed. He considered what saving the shop would mean. They’d have to buy it, obviously, but he didn’t have the first clue how. He didn’t have a penny in his savings account, but he had a decent house in town he’d purchased a year ago. It was small, but he didn’t need much, and the massive backyard overlooked the creek.
