Page 9 of Nixon’s Promise

“If it’s all right with your sister, I’d appreciate the help. We’ll work out how much you get paid.”

Zack looked around the yard before his eyes settled on his feet. “I’d work for trade.”

“For trade? I don’t mind cartin’ your ass to the movies every once in a while, but I don’t have the time nor the desire to play chauffeur. Sorry, bud.”

“No, nothing like that. You have an…um…”

“Spit it out.” Nix encouraged.

“An old dirt bike behind the old metal shed. I’ll help you with this if you’ll give me the bike.”

It took a minute to place the dirt bike Zack was talking about, and when he did, Nix smiled at the memory. “The old white YZ125?”

“Don’t know if it’s white, most of the paint is gone.”

Nix could remember the day he got that Yamaha. It was his first dirt bike. It should’ve been junked about a year after he’d gotten it when he was ten, but he didn’t have it in him to toss it. Apparently, his father hadn’t, either.

“Dude, that bike was a piece of shit when it was given to me. Never did run right. I can do one better than that. Come with me.”

Zack followed Nix across the yard to the big metal shed. Yet another building that needed to be repaired, then painted. He unlocked the padlock and slid open one of the large barn doors. Looking up at the track as it creaked with every inch it opened, Nix realized he had one more thing to add to his list. The hardware around the door needed to be replaced.

At some point, he’d have to resign himself to the fact that some of the buildings needed to be torn down. It would be cheaper to rebuild than to be nickel-and-dimed to death.

“Here.” Nix motioned to the Honda CRF150 sitting in the corner.

“Dude. I couldn’t take that.”

“It doesn’t run. Carb needs to be rebuilt. Seat’s ripped and the front fender is cracked. You’ll need to put some work into her.”

“No way, that one is too nice.”

Nice?

Nix wanted to laugh. “I’ll make you a deal. You help me pull out the pipeline, load it on the trailer and haul it to the junkyard, and I’ll help you rebuild the carb.”

“I um… I don’t know how to rebuild a carb.”

That bit of news was surprising, considering his sister knew how to change a serpentine belt and pulley on her old Ford. The fact that it ran at all told Nix she knew her way around the engine.

“I’ll teach you, then,” Nix said, but thought better of it. “Unless you were looking for a project for you and McKenna to work on together.”

“Why do you call Micky, McKenna? No one else does. Not even Dad. He called her Micky, too.”

“Micky is a boy’s name. There is not one thing about your sister that’s not all-woman.”

Zack’s face turned to stone. Nix wasn’t sure if he didn’t like him pointing out his sister was a good-looking woman—not that he’d used those words—or if Zack was simply figuring out she was a woman and that men noticed.

“Right.” The kid shook his head and lost the look. “She’s too busy to start another project. If you wouldn’t mind teaching me, I’d like to learn. And I’ve never ridden a dirt bike. Could you…um… teach me how?”

“Absolutely. You talk to your sister, run everything by her. If she’s good with the deal we’ll start this weekend.”

“We can start now.”

“We’re losing light. No sense starting now. Besides, you need to talk to McKenna first.”

Zack nodded and added. “Yeah. All right.”

Nix heard a cell phone buzz. Zack reached into his back pocket and pulled his out. “This is her.” Then he answered. “Hey… I’m at Nix’s house.” There was a short pause. “No, I’m not bugging him. Jeez. Listen, is it cool if he comes over for dinner tonight?” Another pause, then, “Cool. I’ll ask him. See ya.”