The Mechanic’s Apprentice – Part 5

Remi came out of the bathroom, and I grabbed his collar.

Everyone in this story is 18+

The Apprentice’s Dirty Job

Remi came out of the bathroom, and I grabbed his collar, landing a punch straight to his face.

“What the hell, dude?” he sputtered, looking confused.

“It was you! You’re the one Gabby’s been seeing!” I yelled, rage boiling over.

“No, what the fuck? I would never!” he protested, backing up.

“Oh yeah? Then what about this?” I held his phone up, the incriminating text from Gabby displayed on the screen.

Remi’s face went pale. “Oh, shit… man, I’m sorry! I meant to tell you—”

Before he could finish, I punched him again. This time, he was ready and swung back, hitting me right in the eye. We went at it, shoving and swinging, crashing into a vase and knocking over furniture in the living room.

Suddenly, my mom burst through the door, yelling, “What is happening here?!”

Remi had always been terrified of my mom. She was one of the toughest women in our neighborhood and could definitely hold her own. The moment she stepped in, he quickly found his footing and used the confusion to dart out the door.

I tried to follow him, but Mom’s voice cut through the chaos. “YOU STAY RIGHT THERE, OR YOU’RE OUT FOR GOOD!”

It took everything in me, but I stopped, looking around at the chaos we’d made. The anger started to fade, replaced by a heavy sense of regret. Was Gabby even worth this? I wondered.

“Mom, I… I’m sorry. But he took Gabby, and he…” I started, but she cut me off.

“NO! No excuses.” Her voice was firm. “I’m going up to rest after my 12-hour shift, and this place better be spotless by tomorrow.” She shot me a final, stern look before stomping off to her bedroom.

I let out a sigh and started cleaning up right away.

The next day, I woke up, feeling my morning wood aching for attention, but reality snapped back, and mostly, I just felt shitty. I’d cleaned up the mess, but the guilt still lingered. Pushing it aside, I quickly got out of bed, determined to arrive on time at the body shop.

As I approached the garage, I noticed someone standing by the entrance. I’d recognize that backside anywhere—it was the boss's son. He turned as he heard my skateboard approaching, and I decided to play nice, especially after I noticed some fresh bruises on his otherwise fair face.

“Oh. Hi,” he said, his voice a little nervous but still melodic.

“Hey there,” I replied with a friendly nod. “You must be the boss's son.”

He relaxed a bit, noticing I was being friendly. “Yeah, that’s me. He’s supposed to drive me to school; he told me to wait here for him.”

“Cool, nice to meet you. I’m Ryder,” I said, nodding again.

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Connor,” he replied, nodding back with a smile.

“So, someone giving you a hard time?” I asked, nodding toward his bruised eye.

He looked down, his expression turning a shade sadder. “Just some jocks at my school,” he said, his voice soft. But he quickly shook it off, his eyes regaining their usual sparkle. “What about you? Looks like you’ve had a rough go of it, too,” he added, glancing at my face.

“Oh, this?” I chuckled. “It’s nothing. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

“Is that so?” he grinned, then, half-joking, added, “Maybe you could teach me how?”

“Yeah, anytime,” I replied, puffing my chest a little. “Got a punching bag in the cellar and know a thing or two about defending myself.”

He seemed both amused and intrigued. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

Suddenly, we both looked at each other, a bit startled, at the unmistakable roar of an older V8 engine. I quickly spotted Joe, sitting behind the wheel of a spotless 1980 Chevrolet Camaro. The garage door opened automatically as he pressed a button from inside the car. I followed Connor as he slipped inside after Joe had parked in the garage.

“Look who’s on time,” Joe’s voice called from in front of us as he stepped out of the car with a smirk.

“Yes, I’m ready, sir,” I said, straightening my back a little.

Joe looked between us. “I see you’ve met my kid already—and it looks like you’ve had your own altercation too,” he said, eyeing my face.

“Yeah, I got int—” I started, but he cut me off.

“Not really interested in what you do on your own time.” Joe said, ignoring me.

He looked over at Connor. “Kiddo, your mom still comfy in my apartment two minutes from the shop while I’m renting a small, crappy place twenty minutes away?” he asked, half-joking, half-serious.

Connor shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing away uncomfortably. “I guess so,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, just messing with you, kiddo. Anyway,” he added, nodding toward me, “I’ll show Ry a few things, then I’ll drive you to school. Those punks won’t get off the hook so easily!”

He gestured for me to follow him, I caught Connor’s small nod out of the corner of my eye.

Joe walked me through a few tasks he wanted done—sweeping, tidying up the shop, that sort of thing. I nodded as he turned to leave the garage, heading back to where Connor stood, watching us with wide, deer-like eyes. I couldn’t help but smile at him, and his face lit up in response.  I watched them get back into the car as I headed off to change into my work overalls.

As I stepped back into the garage, I made sure Joe and Connor were really gone, then headed quietly toward the office. My conscience had been gnawing at me, and I wanted to return the $40 I’d taken, just in case Joe did notice. I reached for the handle and gave it a pull.

“Damn—it’s locked.”

So, I got to work, hoping I’d find a way to return the cash without Joe ever knowing. After about an hour of sweeping, tidying up, and putting tools back in place, I heard the garage door open. Joe had returned, driving his car in and parking. He stepped out, giving the shop a quick glance.

“Looking good in here. Keep it up,” he said with a nod. “I have to finish up some paperwork, but I’ll be back with more work for you soon, kid.” With that, he headed toward his office, unlocking the door.

I really hope he doesn’t notice, I thought, feeling a nervous twist in my stomach.

I continued working, starting to settle into a rhythm when I heard it. “RYDER! My office. Now.” Joe’s voice echoed through the garage, reverberating off the walls.

My first instinct was to bolt out of there. But another part of me still wanted this to work out. Maybe it’s something else, I tried to reassure myself as I made my way into his office.

As I opened the door, my heart pounded in my chest, and my palms were clammy.

“Ryder,” Joe said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “glad you took your time. Care to explain why there’s $40 missing from my desk? I do all my own accounting—I know exactly how much cash I have at all times. And the only other person in here yesterday was Old Tom, and he would never, ever steal from me.” His voice grew angrier as he spat out the last words. “Care to explain?”

“Eh, ehm… I…” I stammered, trying to think of something.

“You have three seconds, Ryder!” Joe barked, his eyes blazing.

I looked up, meeting his intense stare. “I… My girlfriend… Or, scratch that.” I let out a breath, deciding to come clean. “I was broke, and I ‘borrowed’ the $40 to buy weed. But things happened, and I didn’t end up using it. I meant to return the money today, but the office was locked. I even have it with me—I can go get it?”

“No, not right now. You do not steal from me!” Joe’s voice was cold and resolute. “I told you I didn’t want to hire any punk kid. You’re fired!”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, way harder than when Gabby broke up with me.

“Get your things, return the money, and I won’t press charges. But don’t set foot in here again!”

I felt a tear start to well up as I turned to leave, but something in me made me spin back around.

“Sir, please! I know I messed up. I know I did. But I want to be better—I really want this job. Please!” I pleaded, desperation in my voice. Joe just shook his head, pointing toward the entrance.

In a last-ditch effort, I dropped to my knees, folding my hands. “Please, Joe. I’ll do anything!”

For a moment, his expression shifted. That familiar gleam was in his eye, a suggestive grin edging into something darker, almost predatory. Joe pulled down his zipper, his gaze fixed on me. “Anything?” he asked, almost sneering.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. But then, I responded, “Yes, sir. Anything.”

“Maybe we can work something out,” he said, his tone shifting, less angry and more… something else. “Get up and close the door behind you.”

I did as he told me, my nerves tightening as I shut the door behind me, bracing myself