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Monday couldn’t come fast enough. It had only been two days but Lucia and I were ready to rip each other’s hair out. It wasn’t like we always fought, in fact we usually only had one or two spats every other month. That was only when we both had our own space but lately it felt like we were both walking on eggshells. All I could think about when rushing out the door after another argument about the school thing was how much of a relief it would be to think about something else for 8 hours.
7:50 am on the dot and I was sitting in my car outside Romero Brothers Scrapyard, anxiously tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. I checked my appearance for what had to be the sixth time in the past couple of minutes, while thinking how it didn’t even matter since it was literally a scrapyard. It’s not like anyone was winning a beauty contest.
I didn’t go all out with my makeup, not that I was ever into putting on a full face. During the moving rush, I managed to leave a good amount of makeup at the old place, so I was working with what I had. That turned out to be a little brown eyeliner pencil nub at the bottom of my bag along with an almost empty container of eyebrow gel. I shamelessly used my sister's mascara, ignoring her grumbles of protest.
Once that dark green gate opened and I parked my car, I started towards the office taking deep breaths. “Morning,” I called. Bishop was leaning on the corner of the desk talking to Chucky. Both men turned towards me while I stood hesitantly at the door.
“Good morning. Cup of coffee?” Chucky didn’t wait for a reply before happily making me a cup.
Bishop took a sip of his own cup. “I’ve got some paperwork for you to sign. And then Chucky will give you a tour.” He stood up and smiled a bit before motioning towards the empty desk chair. The packet and pen sat on the desk. “The guys’ll be here in a bit to start their shift. Do introductions then.”
“Sounds good. Thank you!” With that Bishop was gone. Chucky placed the cup of coffee in front of me and smiled pleasantly.
We chatted as I filled out the basic information. The man was quirky, that’s for sure, but he was really sweet. We didn’t talk much about background and he didn’t offer any information. Even if I was slightly hoping he would go into an explanation about the plastic hands. He listened intently, his blue eyes lighting up when I talked about my love for baking. “This is gonna be great. I’m really excited to have someone to talk to during the day.” My heart warmed at his genuine nature. “Not that the guys aren’t great, cause they are. They really are. But it’s not like they want to hear about my homemade jam recipe.” Chucky stated it like a fact. My heart pinged a little bit.
“Well I would love to get that recipe when you get the chance.” I smiled, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “This is done.” I held up the packet and sat back for a second, still unsure of what I was supposed to be doing. Chucky hopped up from the seat across from the desk and practically skipped towards the door when he noticed my uneasiness.
“C’mon. I’ll show you the rest of the scrapyard.” The place looked deceivingly small from the office, but it actually took up about 4 miles worth of land. “So do you know the basics of how a scrapyard works?” He asked while leading me through a maze of recycled scrap to a space that looked almost like a loading zone/customer entrance. It was hidden a bit, and on a separate street from the actual parking lot entrance for employees.
I bit my lip and gave a sheepish smile. “Not really. I meant to do some research this weekend but time sort of got away from me with the unpacking and school registration for my sister.”
He didn’t seem disappointed at all, instead tapping his fingers together and smiling wider. “Don’t worry about it. Families are really important. You never know when they’re gonna get taken away from you so you have to hold onto them tight when you can.”
Chucky pointed towards three construction sized dumpsters lined up on what looked like individual super sized metal scales. “Customers call to make an appointment at least 24 hours in advance. Once we have it booked in the calendar, this is where we weigh customers' drop off. Their payment is dependent on the weight and the type of metal.” The dumpsters had fading wording on the front reading ferrous, non-ferrous, and e-scrap. Before I could ask about the meaning, Chucky pulled out a little notebook. “Here,” He said, handing it to me and pointing out the first couple pages. “This is like a handy cheat sheet. It breaks down which metals go in which category.”
“That makes sense. And all the piles of scrap around us are separated by these three categories?” There were multiple piles, all looking like useless junk to an untrained eye.
“Exactly.” We walked back towards the office. “Sometimes the guys will ride out to a site with a bunch of scrap and have it loaded and sent here.” He pointed to a couple of rusted metal buildings, sloped like a greenhouse and the size of a football field. “Those house all the equipment and tools that we use to process the materials. Then they get sent to mills to be turned into new metal products.” By the end of the tour we were back to the office where he showed me a bit of the computer and filing system. It wasn’t hard, in fact the process itself was pretty manual and archaic. I was careful not to mention it, even if my brain was thinking up new improvements..
While I was refreshing my coffee and Chucky was on the phone, Tranq wandered out to the office with a green shirt in hand. “Here’s your shirt. Let me know if it fits.” It was a dark green button down long sleeve with the words ‘Romero Brothers Scrap and Salvage’ embroidered above the left pocket. In the bathroom that was right across from the desk, I tried it on, fingers crossed that it would fit. The shirt was soft, and it fit snug but not too snug. By some miracle there was just enough room to fully cover my chest.
When I came out, Tranq was still there. His dark brown eyes skimmed over me quickly, probably making sure the shirt fit. “You okay with the shirt?”
I smiled. “Yeah, I like it. Are there any other dress code requirements?” It seemed like everyone favored jeans and boots.
“Pants, closed-toed shoes, and the shirt is pretty much it.” That was doable. He pointed to my hair. “Might want to pull your hair back. Don’t want it to get caught in machines.” I threw it into a quick over the shoulder braid while Tranq led me to the parking lot and then up towards what looked like a house. “C’mon, all the guys should be here by now. They’re interested in meeting you.” Hopefully the smile on my face was convincing enough. None of the guys have given me any reason to be afraid but their demeanor was intimidating at the least. Plus, I wasn’t that naive to think this was just a bunch of guys that loved riding Harley’s. I also wasn’t stupid enough to ask what they actually did.
We walked towards the house that sat next to the office. It was dark green with a big open porch and big windows. “So what is this building?”
“Clubhouse.” He quipped, staring straight ahead. He was definitely not a man of many words.
As soon as the door opened I was hit with the acidic smell of cigarettes. I had to work to keep my face neutral and hold in the cough that was climbing up my throat. Dark wood paneling covered every surface of the room while pictures, bike memorabilia, and tribal signs covered a lot of the walls. There were tables spread out in the middle, with mayans sprinkled around. A pool table and two couches tucked into the back right corner. A room directly to my right caught my eye. It looked sparse with a long intricate table and equally intricate chairs surrounding it.
Taza stepped into my line of sight, blocking the view, and threw a genuine smile. “Morning. How’s the first day going?”
“Can’t complain.” I smiled, genuinely feeling comfortable around him for some reason. “Chucky gave me a tour so I have some idea of what’s going on.”
“Good. Yeah, Chucky already had some great things to say.” A wide smile stretched across his face.
Bishop and the rest of the guys gathered around near the front door. It was nerve racking to have all eyes on me and I could feel the heat of a blush start to creep up my face. Bishop cleared his throat, getting the attention of the room rather quickly. “This is Adele. She’s gonna be working with Chucky in the office from now on.” I waved awkwardly, hating the amount of eyes that were on me.
Mumbled hello’s filtered through the group. Starting from the left, Bishop rattled off the names. Coco, who was the leanest of the group leaned against the table with a beer balanced between two long fingers. He grinned at me briefly before his gaze turned back to calculating. “This is Riz.” Bishop nodded towards another one. He seemed almost as well natured as Taza and gave me an actual smile.
“Nice to meet you.” He quipped.
Creeper was next. A shorter man who was as heavily tattooed as Coco. He smiled but there was a slight coldness behind it. Bishop called out Angel and EZ together, as they were brothers. Angel had a cocky smirk on his face as I couldn’t help but do a once over. The man was hot, that’s for sure. Tall and covered in lean muscle. Dark and thick hair gelled back and eyes that shined with mischief. EZ was shorter but was built like a bodybuilder. Didn’t sport that shiteating grin but he stood tall with confidence. “This is Gilly.” I guessed that that was short for Gilberto. He was sporting a beard, one that looked thicker than Angel’s, but his head was shaved. His smirk was less cocky, more sure of himself.
Bishop didn’t really leave time for small talk. Instead he ushered me back out to the office and corralled Coco, Gilly, and Riz with me as well. It was an hour or two into the day before Coco meandered into the office. After sending Chucky away to pick up lunch, he lit up a cigarette and leaned against the desk. “So Adele, how you like the job so far?”
“Well, the first couple of hours haven’t been too bad.” He nodded. “Can I help you with something?”
“Nah, I’m good.” I was expecting him to wander out but he just stood there, giving me that calculated look. Beads of sweat started dripping down my back due to the intensity of his stare. I smiled briefly and cleared my throat before getting back to the paperwork.
“You just moved to Santo Padre, right?” He blew smoke towards the open office door.
“Yeah. My sister and I moved a couple weeks ago.” It was obvious that the guy was sharp. Like his eyes were taking in every detail of a situation. I could feel him watching my hands as they tapped nervously on the desk. That type of attention was the last thing I needed.
“How old is she?” He continued the questions.
He whistled. “Damn, tough age.”
I snorted. “Oh yeah. She’s something.” I filed away a couple more reports. Barely making a dent in the piles and piles of papers still left. “Do you have any siblings?”
He shrugged, his head slanting to the left. “Got two older sisters. We don’t talk a whole lot though.” He stubbed out the remaining cigarette before reaching for some coffee.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It is what it is,” he said, matter of fact. “ You close with yours?”
“Yeah. I practically raised her after my parents passed away.” Coco sipped his coffee thoughtfully and I went back to work, thinking he would wander out. “How’d that work?” He asked suddenly. “Raising her at that age?” It was sort of a weird question and he didn’t seem like the type to elaborate on the rationale.
“Well um…” I thought about it for a second, trying to put into words all those feelings that come rushing at you when you're suddenly raising someone without relying on your own support system. “It’s not a cakewalk by any means. But no matter how hard it gets, I’d rather raise her over some stranger. Lucia and I have managed fairly well.”
“You ever worry about fucking it up?”
I snorted in laughter. “All the time. But it doesn’t really matter now. I mean, she is 18 now so the damage is already done,” I halfway joked. Coco didn’t laugh but his face paled a shade. “That’s a joke, sort of.” I clarified. “I can still mess it up but the dynamic is different than when we were younger. She’s an adult and a good wholesome person, so I try to take that into account. Be her big sister more than her mom.”
He pondered for a bit, absentmindedly lighting up another cigarette. “Alright, I’ll see ya.” And then he was gone, leisurely strolling back across the yard.
“That was interesting,” I mused before continuing on with the day. Tranq and Taza stopped in at random intervals, making sure that everything was going okay. It wasn’t an actual conversation, more of passing around pleasantries while filling up an afternoon coffee. Or tea, in Taza’s case. A majority of the time was spent with Chucky. By the time we had gotten through discussing the combobulated filing system on the computer and some of the very questionable documents I found rooting through some of those boxes of files, the day was over.
I walked into the halfway, fishing through my purse for the apartment key, so distracted that I almost didn’t see Lucia sneaking away from the door; head down and a hand covering her face. “And where are you going?” I asked, finally feeling the cool metal on my fingers.
She turned around slowly, giving me the puppy dog eyes. She was using the big guns. Those big bambi eyes mixed with the small pout would usually sway me. “A friends.” I eyed the checkered duffle bag thrown over her shoulder. “For the weekend. She actually should be picking me up soon.” Lucia glanced down the hallway, like the person was gonna be standing there waiting.
I crossed my arms sternly. “You don’t have any friends here. We moved like three days ago.”
“I never said it was here.” She said. “And before you say no,” I paused, really interested in hearing what shit was gonna come out of her mouth next. “I’m going to stay with Moira and her parents will be there the whole weekend. And we won’t do drugs or drink, like, at all. We’ll be perfect angels.”
“Alright, alright. You don’t need to go that far.” Considering Moira was her best friend and the week had been especially hard for her, locked up in the apartment and bored out of her mind. I felt bad about the whole thing. Bad enough that I ended up letting her go, ignoring the bit of jealousy that popped up. She jumped up in excitement, throwing her arms around me for a quick hug before dashing down the hall. “Text me at some point during the weekend for an update.”
“Fine.” She called, throwing me a kiss and rounding the corner at practically a sprint. While I hate the thought of being alone for two whole days, it was worth it to see some genuine happiness from the girl.
I dropped my bag by the door, looking around at the dirty dishes that were piled up in the sink. “Seriously?” I huffed in annoyance, heading over there immediately. It wasn’t like I was a complete neat freak but I didn’t like to leave things when washing them was probably the easiest thing in the world. I put on some music, letting Chris Stapelton’s warm voice soothe some of the tension from the day. It wasn’t until I was belting out the chorus of ‘Nashville, TN’ that I noticed what looked like a letter laying in the middle of the entryway. A letter that wasn’t there when I walked in.
Something about the letter was ominous. Maybe it was the lack of address or the crude drawing of what looked like a bird holding something encased in a circle. Either way I was officially creeped out. My hands shook as I pulled out a folded up piece of computer paper. At first glance It looked like a handwritten loan statement. A starting amount, an interest schedule, and a final number, circled with thick red ink. After a couple more seconds of contemplation I cursed, dropping the paper like it was on fire. The original nerves I felt doubled and my chest was feeling tight from lack of air. The fear I felt when this whole mess started came back with a vengeance. And this time I was alone, no Lucas to come up with a solution, and no backup funds to cover whatever crazy debt he’s racked up.
$100,000 was what Lucas originally owed some shady business partners. That was before he went away. I cursed again, pissed at myself for being ignorant enough to believe that this wouldn’t touch us. That I wouldn’t end up having to pay my ex-boyfriends debt. That I could just move away and forget the whole thing even happened. Ignorance is bliss but it could also be a death sentence for Lucia and I. Just the thought of the potential consequences was making me queasy.
I grabbed the letter, tearing it into tiny pieces and stuffing them in the trash. The thought of running away again crossed my mind. I only just started the job, Lucia wasn’t enrolled in school yet. It would be easy to just pick up and go. I imagined it for a bit, letting the visual calm some of the nerves. Somehow the calmness brought out the rational argument. These ‘business associates’ were gonna find us no matter what and I couldn’t uproot my sister's life anymore than I already have. Neither of us deserved that. The only thing left to do was stand my ground.
