I raise my hand for a high five.He slaps it with his, unable to keep the grin off his face.
“Yo, kid,” Wally calls out.
The grin drops off Remi’s face when he turns to look at him.
“Yeah?”
“How much money you got in your pocket?”
The boy shoots me a puzzled look.
“Indulge him,” I urge.
Shoving his hand in his pocket, he pulls out a couple of bills and some coins.
“Twelve dollars and seventy-five cents.”
Wally holds out his gnarly, arthritis-riddled hand.“You got yourself a deal.Gimme that.”
Utterly confused, the kid walks over and hands him the crumpled bills and change.
“Congrats,” Wally states.“She’s yours.”
Then he drives away with Remi’s money.
“What just happened?”
I grin at the boy and grab the back of his neck.
“You just bought yourself a 1979 Chevrolet C/K series.Come on, I’ll show you.”
It’s alreadydark by the time I pull the flatbed truck into the rear parking lot of the firehouse.
Remi hasn’t been able to stop grinning, or checking the side mirror to catch a glimpse of the Chevy strapped to the bed.The kid’s pretty pumped.
“I’ll unload it tomorrow,” I tell him when we get out of the truck.“I’ve got a poker game to get to.”
My standing Thursday night game at The Kerrigan pub with a bunch of friends, and I don’t want to miss it.
“Okay.”
I can tell he’s a little disappointed, but he’s going to have to learn to be patient, because that’s what rebuilding the old wreck is going to require.
“Can I come tomorrow?”
“We’re going to have to sit down and have a talk with your mother first.I’m sure she’s not going to want this project to get in the way of you doing well in school, so you’re probably going to have to give her some guarantees.Keep up grades, do your homework, that kind of stuff.The three of us are gonna have to work out a schedule.”
He’s obviously not pleased with that, but that’s too damn bad.He’s a smart kid, if he really wants this, he’ll learn to toe the line.
“Go home, Remi.I’ll touch base with your mom tomorrow, work out a time when we can hash this out.”
Grudgingly, he takes one last look at the pickup, and then walks over to his bike, swinging his leg over before riding off with a wave.
I hustle inside, hop in the shower for a quick rinse, change into clean clothes, and head back out to hop in my pickup.Normally, I’d walk the ten minutes it takes to get to the pub, but I’m already going to be late, and the guys will be watching the clock already.
I’m also going to have to get some pub grub there, I haven’t had dinner.Stella Kerrigan, who owns the pub with her husband, Jacob, is a good cook.However, there isn’t a lot that comes out of her kitchen one could consider “heart-healthy,” which is why I don’t often indulge.But I’m starving and look forward to some fish and chips.
Pulling off the lot, I turn down the alley that cuts through to Main Street, when I notice something up ahead.The beam from my headlights catches a glint off the frame of a bicycle lying on the side of the alley.
