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He chuckled softly. “I care about not cutting them. I care about doing a good job. I guess I’m discovering what it means to look after them. I know nothing about looking after livestock. Never even had a pet.”
Ari gasped. “This is a travesty. One that should be rectified.”
“One thing at a time.” I paused, knowing exactly her panic, the fear of being on the edge of stopping one thing and trying to find another living. “Tom Turner’s been really helpful with my questions. He’s given me good ideas for my place. Said he’s happy to mentor me.”
I swallowed at a lump in my throat. “So I get it, what you’re trying to do. And there’s nothing wrong with doing make-up for money while you are figuring it out. Scored some shearing contracts locally for a couple of small landholders. The money will come in handy.”
“That’s so great, Jet.” Ari sighed. “I just wish I knew what I wanted to do.”
“Keep on searching. Don’t let a cracked piston stop you from figuring out who you are.”
“Or pig hunters?” Ari chuckled.
“Ha. Ha.” I paced about in my living room. “I have to tell you something.”
“Okay. Spill the tea.”
“Something from my past. I may have overreacted about your break down because of dumb decisions I made when I was fourteen. I stole a car with a mate. I was drunk on cheap scotch we’d nicked from Blake’s foster dad. We were bored, listless, and thought we were bulletproof.
“Had no money, no friends. No Nintendos or whatever. Not even a bike. Or a phone. Let alone a laptop. I already knew how to drive from learning off Pop in his paddocks in his rusty ute. Mum and Dad were away for work, so one night, me and Blake stole a car. Took it for a joyride and we crashed into a fence post.
“I was sentenced to an experimental farm for youth in the justice system. Nothing dodgy; it was a shearing school. I learnt to shear, and it probably saved my life.”
Ari said nothing.
“I’m a shearer because I totalled a car under the influence and put not only my life at risk but also my friend’s and everyone else on the road, and I totally understand if you don’t want to talk to me again.”
“Why would I do that?” Ari blurted. “God, Jet. I’m sorry I was casual about getting a lift.”
I shrugged, even if she couldn’t see me. “Some people have shunned me because of that dumb stunt when I was young.”
“Well, I’m not. I won’t,” Ari whispered. “So, um, are any of your tattoos prison tatts?”
I burst out laughing.
“What?” she growled.
“First of all, I was fourteen, so nobody was inking up a scrawny teen. Second, I never got arrested again after that fiasco with the car. Never been to prison.” I spluttered another laugh. “Are you disappointed I don’t have prison tatts?”
Ari made a whiny noise.
“Why, Miss Wilde, did we just unlock a kink?”
She made the noise again and just maybe a kink had unlocked. Huh.
“I lovedPrison Breakat the time. Wait a second, is that why you can’t believe you have now inherited your grandfather’s place?”
My head spun at the abrupt change in conversation. “Maybe, a little?” A whole damn lot and you know it. “Have you ever owned a place? Or had a mortgage? You know what I mean?”
“Mum’s always rented. And so have I in Sydney.” Ari laughed. “Closest thing I’ve come to home ownership is the van. Probably will be for my entire life, too.”
I laughed with her. “I had an old Toyota HiAce, and I mean old. It leaked when it rained, thanks to rust. But it was home on wheels for a few years getting to shearing jobs. Then I got mybike and stayed in shearers’ quarters or slept in my swag. Until now.”
“Are you okay about inheriting your grandfather’s place?”
“Yeah?” Panic slithered through my chest, hot and slippery. “It’s just a lot to take in. Never thought this would happen.”
“But it has.”
