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Honestly, that’s what I expected when we walked into the room.
“But we’re willing to fix it,” Grady says. He blanches when Mr. Jacobson balks at his choice of words. “We’d be honored to fix it.”
Seriously, if I went home without fixing it, Grandma would kill me. “We would like a chance to fix it,” I say quietly. I look to Grady for reassurance, but he ignores me. “Please,” I add.
“Okay.” Mr. Jacobson sits back, looking like it’s all resolved. That can’t be all of it, though, so I remain wary.
“When can you go to work on it with me?” Grady asks me.
“Any time,” I respond. “As long as it’s a night or a weekend.”
“You don’t work nights or weekends?” Mr. Jacobson asks, looking from me to Grady and back again.
“I do sometimes,” Grady says. Grady has his own grass cutting business. “But I can change my schedule.”
“Good,” Mr. Jacobson says. “Clear your schedules for the next few weeks, because I’m going to need you on Saturdays for a while. It’s almost time for Fright Night.”
“But I thought we were just going to fix what we messed up.” I look at Grady, whose brow is furrowing.
“Surely, it’ll only take a few hours to paint that barn,” Grady says.
“Maybe,” Mr. Jacobson says. “But I’ll need you for longer. Fright Night is coming up, and you know it’s a big to-do.” Fright Night is the town’s favorite time of the year. “When Fright Night is over, your free time will become your own again.” He stares at us, daring us to contradict him. “Or we can let this go to court and see how you fare.” He grins.
&nb
sp; So, we can accept Mr. Jacobson’s verdict, or we can get a verdict from a judge. “I’ll do it,” I say.
Grady says nothing for a moment.
“And you?” Mr. Jacobson says to him.
“I’ll do it,” Grady replies with a nod.
“You start Saturday morning. Eight a.m. Sharp.” And without another word, Mr. Jacobson rises from his chair and walks out of the room.
Grady drops his face into his hands so he can rub his eyes. “My daddy always said you would do it one day,” he says, his voice stony, his words as hard as daggers.
“Do what?”
“Ruin my fucking life,” he replies. He shoots out of the chair and rushes out the door without even a backward glance.
I have no idea what he’s talking about. I sit there for a moment, until the officer in the corner takes pity on me and motions for me to precede him out the door. I find Little Robbie Gentry standing in the lobby. “You need a ride home?” Robbie asks.
“That would be nice,” I reply. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He opens the door and steps to the side so I can walk past him.
“Did you see where Grady went?”
He shakes his head, but something tells me he’s lying.
“Do you think we should wait to see if he needs a ride?” I ask.
“On the way out, he suggested we keep you far away from him for the time being.”
“Oh.” I scrub my nose with my hand.
Robbie drops a clunky hand on my shoulder as he lets me into the front seat of his cruiser this time. “It’ll all work out,” he says.
