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Standing in front of the only shop in town, he took a deep breath and went inside, standing at the front counter. There was a large window that allowed a good view into the garage area where several cars were being worked on. He spotted two men working – one was Tony, who owned the place and allowed him to work there years ago.
He made eye contact with him, and Tony smiled, flinging a towel on his shoulder as he came into the front lobby.
“Holy shit! Is that Mikey Brennan?”
Michael extended his hand for him to shake, feeling his calloused palms, permanently stained from motor oil, signifying a hardworking man. “It’s me.”
“I didn’t know you got out! How long have you been back?” The older man had aged – his temples were graying, and he had crow’s feet around his eyes. His beer gut showed he hadn’t slowed down on the drinking, and for a split second, Michael envied it. It’d be at least a year before he could have a drink.
“Got back yesterday.”
“Wow! Man, it’s good to see you!”
“Listen, I know it’s been a while, but I was wondering if you needed any help around here. I’m not certified, and I know you have all kinds of requirements you have to meet, but I’d like to pick up some hours. Maybe clean the shop… help with oil changes.”
Tony’s smile faded a bit. “I know you’re a damn fine worker. And you probably have to find a job for your parole, yeah?”
“I do. Sooner rather than later.”
“You’re right. The state has all these fucking new regulations we have to follow. But there’s always ways around it. You can be the shop janitor.”
“That’s fine with me.”
Tony held his hand up, stopping him. “Before you get too excited, Mikey, you need to know I can’t pay you much. Just slightly over minimum wage. Times are hard. People are moving away. Driving to the bigger towns. And I got Henry working full time.”
“It’s not a problem. I need a steady paycheck and proof of an income. That’s priority over my salary right now.”
“Who you staying with? Your mama isn’t…”
“No. Never. My brother is letting me stay with him.” Michael cringed at the mention of his mother. A good son would go visit his mother after getting out of prison. But a good mother would’ve never allowed what she had when he was a kid.
“Good. Just keep the shop clean and I’ll let you help with cars as long as prying eyes aren’t watching. Can you start tomorrow?”
“Hell, yes I can.”
“I open up at seven AM. We close for an hour at lunch and work until five PM. Open eight to noon on Saturdays and are closed on Sundays.”
“Works for me. The busier I am, the less trouble I get into.” Michael shook his hand. “Thanks for this, Tony. I appreciate it. You’re helping me out.”
“You were always a good worker for me, Mikey. You’ve just been dealt a shit hand and I wanna help you break that cycle if I can.”
When Michael got back to his brother’s place, his natural high from being able to mark some things off his to-do list faded. He saw her sitting on the front porch, and he almost turned around and walked back down the road. She spotted him and stood up, smoothing her hands down her hair.
"Mikey..."
"What are you doing here, Marilyn?” He stood at the bottom step, unwilling to get closer. Damn it, why did she have to look so good? It didn’t help his sexual frustration, and he feared he’d make a bad decision based on his physical needs.
“I heard you were staying with Mitch, and I don’t have a phone number for you. This is the only way I could think to get in touch with you.”
“How long have you been waiting?”
“About twenty minutes. I was about to give up and leave when I saw you coming down the road. Good thing the town is small since you’re walking everywhere.” She forced a smile and Michael didn’t return it. He had to keep his walls up around his heart.
“Mitch tells me we need to talk. And by how you’re acting, you apparently have something to tell me.”
“Can we go inside?” She reached for the doorknob and turned.
“Why?” If he went inside with her, he wasn’t sure if he could control himself.
