images that had haunted me all day, and eased back into my seat with a sigh. “Sam seems a nice kid. Knows his cars too.”
“It’s why I pay him,” said Jack, and I looked at him.
“He said you’re a tough boss to work for.” I kind of got that feeling. Then added in a whisper, “But seems to think you have this secret, soft, squidgy side.”
Grey eyes fixed on me for a brief moment. “Soft? Squidgy?” I think if Sam were here, Sam would end up as a soft, squidgy mass of blood and bone on the floor. “Then he’s speaking out of term to clients,” added Jack.
“Not his fault,” I said, looking out my window. “I asked.”
“Then you shouldn’t really encourage him. Sam...” Jack added this huff sound. “Sam needs to learn a few things about confidentiality.” Then. “Talking about your boss moving to the top of his shit list.”
He hadn’t meant that last one to slip, and it showed as he tensed and quickly apologised. I told him not to worry about it, giving a soft laugh.
“What else did he say,” said Jack, “just out of I’m-gonna-screw-his-nuts-to-the-wall curiosity?”
I controlled my chuckle. “He likes you, Jack. Even said he’d trust you with his dad’s car, which I think was code for something, just can’t figure out what.” The traffic started to ease a little and Jack’s tension seemed to ease with it. For a mechanic, he seemed strangely uncomfortable around hordes of cars and people.
“His father died a year ago,” said Jack. “Left behind this old Rolls Royce Phantom. When Sam says ‘trusts,’ he means ‘get the best deal selling it on.’”
“Uh-huh. That a personal detail there about one of your employees, is it?” I caught Jack’s glance at me and deliberately ignored it. “’Cause it’s not like it’s the whole ‘pot meet kettle, kettle—pot’ thing you have going on.”
“You’re a ballsy bastard, aren’t you?”
No, not usually. Just loved how Jack kept having a go over something he was guilty of. “He doesn’t want to keep hold of it?” I said, trying to remain at least a little “ballsy” in Jack’s eyes. “Something like that will only go up in value.”
“He doesn’t want the reminder.”
“Ah.” I fell quiet for a minute. “Rough upbringing and that family bullshit, I take it.”
“Bullshit?” Jack stole a look. I caught it but wouldn’t look at him. “You think family is bullshit?” he said quietly.
A shrug, not quite little-boy-lost, more little-boy-grown-up-and-long-past-giving-a-shit. “One-parent families were the norm where I grew up,” I mumbled, not really wanting to go there. “Father/son always equalled bullshit.”
“How old were you when your father died?”
That caught me by surprise and I glanced at Jack. “Fourteen. How did you know?”
His lips were a little thin. “One-parent family, struggled financially, all tied up with being a financial consultant now, it’s not that hard to work out.” He looked uncomfortable. Had he never lost anyone? Maybe found it hard to empathise? “Tough break,” he added quietly.
“Not really.” I really wasn’t that bothered. “He’d spent the best part of five years in prison before he died there.”
Things went pretty quiet and I shifted uncomfortably. Too much too soon?
“GBH and handling stolen goods,” I added quietly. “Got what he deserved, if you ask me.”
Jack coughed, even more uncomfortable now? Crap. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that?
“There—there was water in the distributer, which didn’t take long to clear up, but you also had a problem with your starter motor.”
At least he was still talking to me, even though it was a painfully obvious shift in conversation, and I cocked him a smile that said “rip off” before saying, “The starter motor was replaced, you going Jameson’s on my ass?”
Again Jack seemed to blush, just slightly, and he took a few seconds to answer. “This was to do with the female clips slipping
“It’s why I pay him,” said Jack, and I looked at him.
“He said you’re a tough boss to work for.” I kind of got that feeling. Then added in a whisper, “But seems to think you have this secret, soft, squidgy side.”
Grey eyes fixed on me for a brief moment. “Soft? Squidgy?” I think if Sam were here, Sam would end up as a soft, squidgy mass of blood and bone on the floor. “Then he’s speaking out of term to clients,” added Jack.
“Not his fault,” I said, looking out my window. “I asked.”
“Then you shouldn’t really encourage him. Sam...” Jack added this huff sound. “Sam needs to learn a few things about confidentiality.” Then. “Talking about your boss moving to the top of his shit list.”
He hadn’t meant that last one to slip, and it showed as he tensed and quickly apologised. I told him not to worry about it, giving a soft laugh.
“What else did he say,” said Jack, “just out of I’m-gonna-screw-his-nuts-to-the-wall curiosity?”
I controlled my chuckle. “He likes you, Jack. Even said he’d trust you with his dad’s car, which I think was code for something, just can’t figure out what.” The traffic started to ease a little and Jack’s tension seemed to ease with it. For a mechanic, he seemed strangely uncomfortable around hordes of cars and people.
“His father died a year ago,” said Jack. “Left behind this old Rolls Royce Phantom. When Sam says ‘trusts,’ he means ‘get the best deal selling it on.’”
“Uh-huh. That a personal detail there about one of your employees, is it?” I caught Jack’s glance at me and deliberately ignored it. “’Cause it’s not like it’s the whole ‘pot meet kettle, kettle—pot’ thing you have going on.”
“You’re a ballsy bastard, aren’t you?”
No, not usually. Just loved how Jack kept having a go over something he was guilty of. “He doesn’t want to keep hold of it?” I said, trying to remain at least a little “ballsy” in Jack’s eyes. “Something like that will only go up in value.”
“He doesn’t want the reminder.”
“Ah.” I fell quiet for a minute. “Rough upbringing and that family bullshit, I take it.”
“Bullshit?” Jack stole a look. I caught it but wouldn’t look at him. “You think family is bullshit?” he said quietly.
A shrug, not quite little-boy-lost, more little-boy-grown-up-and-long-past-giving-a-shit. “One-parent families were the norm where I grew up,” I mumbled, not really wanting to go there. “Father/son always equalled bullshit.”
“How old were you when your father died?”
That caught me by surprise and I glanced at Jack. “Fourteen. How did you know?”
His lips were a little thin. “One-parent family, struggled financially, all tied up with being a financial consultant now, it’s not that hard to work out.” He looked uncomfortable. Had he never lost anyone? Maybe found it hard to empathise? “Tough break,” he added quietly.
“Not really.” I really wasn’t that bothered. “He’d spent the best part of five years in prison before he died there.”
Things went pretty quiet and I shifted uncomfortably. Too much too soon?
“GBH and handling stolen goods,” I added quietly. “Got what he deserved, if you ask me.”
Jack coughed, even more uncomfortable now? Crap. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that?
“There—there was water in the distributer, which didn’t take long to clear up, but you also had a problem with your starter motor.”
At least he was still talking to me, even though it was a painfully obvious shift in conversation, and I cocked him a smile that said “rip off” before saying, “The starter motor was replaced, you going Jameson’s on my ass?”
Again Jack seemed to blush, just slightly, and he took a few seconds to answer. “This was to do with the female clips slipping
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