He led Jake into the shop and walked behind the counter. Jake stepped up as he had dozens of times and there was his part, sitting right on top with ‘1957 Chevy Truck’ scribbled on the box; Nick was his go-to person for parts for just about anything, as well as who Jake himself used for car repairs and oil changes for Gabby’s car. He’d stopped doing it himself years ago when he and Gabby started making enough money to send it to the shop. The little bit of free time he got away from his own work as a mechanic, or time with Gabby, was better spent tinkering with Ruby or helping the family out on the farm. Both Grayson and Dusty brought their stuff to Nick too. Nick was pretty much the only mechanic the entire family trusted. He was downright cantankerous at times, but he was honest.
Just a few months ago, Grayson had mentioned Nick had finally sewed up a long battle of a divorce, which was the cause of most of his cantanker-isms. Twenty years with the she-devil had buried Nick under layers of stress and debt. Whoever had said it was cheaper to keep ‘er obviously hadn’t met Nick’s wife. As Nick ran his finger over the paperwork rack on the wall, Jake took stock of him. He’d lost a lot of weight. The divorce had dragged on for several years, leaving Nick wiry, weary and whiskery.
And then once that was buttoned up, he’d jumped right out of the fire and into the frying pan with Rena. At least five years younger and could be a howling hellcat, but at least this one had a heart of gold, ran the office like a well-oiled machine, and could also hunt, fish and turn a wrench, if she wanted or needed to. They were a good match.
The fact that Nick owned the place but more times than not wore a uniform and crawled up in and under things with or without his team earned him respect, with both his staff and his customers. He was a hell of a mechanic. Best in the state, the rumor was.
Jake’s eyes widened when he looked behind the counter. Four cardboard boxes crowded the space behind the register, stuffed with mostly canned goods; metal cans as well as glass jars of homemade preserved food. Colorful pickled vegetables, collard greens and jam and jellies caught his eye. Behind that row of boxes sat two more heaped high with miscellaneous things. Toilet paper, cigarettes and even a few bottles of liquor topped the heap.
Seven five-gallon gas jugs stood sentry over the food as the final row.
“What’s all that for? You living here?” Jake nodded at the stuff.
“Trading here. At least until the last of the gas is gone. Two of us will be taking this stuff over to the house later,” Nick answered as he slid the part to Jake with a paper slip and pen for signing the receipt. Jake almost chuckled that he was still following office procedure when he and his staff were all outside, armed to the huckleberries, circling the wagons. Probably worried that Rena would have his hide if he skipped a step. Nick was the boss, but Rena ran a tight ship behind that counter.
Jake scribbled his name and slid the paper back to Nick. “You’ve been busy if you got all that in two days. So you’re not taking money at all?”
“I could have bought all that and more with the sale of one used car before the lights went out, and I wish like hell right now I would’ve. But no. I’m not taking cash. Ain’t nothing to buy with it. Stores are already bare bones. What good is it?”
Jake shrugged. “It looks like you’re all set for a while anyway.”
Nick shook his head. “Nope. That won’t last long. I didn’t have much at the house when the lights went out. Grocery store was wiped out the first day the power was gone. Gas stations aren’t pumping anymore. I got plenty of money and nowhere to spend it. I wish I’d listened to your brother-in-law when he’d talk about all that being prepared shit. I did get lucky. I got something people need right now. But hell, what I’ve gotten in return so far won’t last us a month. Rena and I are feeding my boy, too.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We need numbers, though. Can’t get no damn sleep if there’s only two of you, even if Rena is a hell of a shot.”
“You already had trouble out at the house, too?” Jake asked, concerned. Nick lived ten miles from him, but closer to town.
“Hell yeah we have. Bunch of damn rednecks came looking for food last night. They left rather quick-like, especially considering they probably had a bit of buckshot in their asses for their trouble. But they’ll be back, or more of ‘em. It ain’t safe nowhere near town.”
Jake nodded. He wouldn’t head back to the house. It would just be a waste of gas. If trouble had already found Nick’s neighborhood, it wouldn’t be long until it found his. He trusted Tucker would be on top of it. He was heading straight to Grayson’s place. He’d just have to get the 4-wheeler back later.
As though Nick read his mind, he said, “Say, how’s Grayson doing out at his place? I know he’s prepared. And he’s far enough out there it’ll take a while before he sees company. But when he does,” Nick shook his head again. “He got numbers to watch his six?”
Jake wasn’t positive, but felt pretty sure it was just Grayson there right now. However, it wasn’t his place to invite anyone, nor did he want anyone to know they might not have enough protection, even if it was Nick, whom they all knew and liked.
“Yeah. He’s got a house full. Bunch of buddies, plus Dusty. You know Dusty is a cop, right? He brought some of his crew with him, too.”
Nick sighed and Jake felt bad for the lie.
“Look, if there’s room for y’all, we’ll find a way to get back to you and tell you. Maybe you can load up what you got and come out there. But don’t come unless one of us comes to get you. Might not be room enough for y’all and those cops are trigger nervous. That work?”
Nick looked relieved at the possibility. “Yeah. You tell Grayson we’ll pull our weight and then some. We’ll be ready to go once all this gas is gone.” He waved at the gas tanks lined up behind him. “And I don’t think that’ll take more than a day or so.”
“I’ll tell him.” Jake gave him a nod and turned to go.
“Hey, Jake,” Nick said, “What color is your Chevy?”
“Red. Ruby red. Why?”
Nick shook his head. “I thought so. We had a group of bikers in here yesterday looking for bike parts. One of them saw this box and asked about it and asked where you live. He was looking for a red one. I know you work on it out at Grayson’s but I told him I didn’t know where you lived.”
“You tell him the color?”
Nick scoffed. “Yeah, I did. But I told him it was yellow. I’m not stupid.”
“Thanks, man. Why was he asking?”
“State-wide Biker-Scavenger hunt. Those things are big deals for bikers and it was on their list. You should have seen that convoy. Beat all I ever saw. One biker had a pig—a live pig in a purple skirt—strapped to the back of his bike.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah, apparently a red ’57 Chevy was on the list too. But they moved on, headed south toward the beach.”
Jake’s blood ran cold. “You know which beach?”
Nick shook his head. “I wasn’t asking any questions. That crew wasn’t too friendly. I gave them all the bike parts I had on the house and sent them on their way. I was just glad I didn’t have all this food and stuff sitting out here when they came through. They’re part of the baddest biker gang in the Carolinas. Looking for trouble. You be careful out there, you hear?”
“Will do,” Jake answered. “And you might want to stack that stuff in the back until you get it hauled out of here.”