He checked the clock with his hands on the steering wheel and the engine off doing the breathing thing. The in-and-out thing. The thing he did when something was happening in his chest that he needed to keep from reaching his face. Then he got out, unlocked the shop, and went to work. Marcus showed up at 9:00 the way Marcus always showed up on Saturdays when there was unfinished business.
Because Marcus had the work ethic of a man who had been poor enough long enough to never take an open shop for granted. He walked in, took one look at James, and said, "Who died?" "Nobody died," James said from underneath the vehicle he was working on. "You got the face," Marcus said. "I don't have a face."
"Everybody's got a face. Yours right now is the one you had when that transmission blew in the Hernandez fleet account." And you had to call them at 7 in the morning on a holiday. Marcus pulled up the rolling stool and sat on it backwards, arms crossed over the top. What happened?
James rolled out from under the car, sat up, looked at Marcus. Marcus was 53 years old, had been working cars since before James was born, and was one of exactly four people on Earth whose opinion James actually trusted. He was also constitutionally incapable of pretending not to notice things which was both his greatest quality and his most aggravating one. Sophia showed up last night. James said the shop went very quiet.
Marcus blinked. Sophia. Sophia. Yeah. The Sophia who?
Yeah. Marcus. Marcus was quiet for a moment which for Marcus was remarkable. Then he said she alive. She's alive.
She okay? She's James looked at his hands. She lost her job. Lost her apartment. She's got a baby.
Eight months old little boy named Noah. She showed up at my door with nowhere to go. Marcus absorbed this. And you? She's in my guest room.
Marcus made a sound that wasn't quite a word. Say what you're going to say. James told him. I'm not going to say anything. Marcus, I'm not.
He held up both hands. That's your house. That's your life. You do what you feel like you need to do. He paused one beat too long.