Until Sadie - Sarah Curtis Page 0,2
Dean got a glare from him. He returned it with a megawatt smile. Kill ‘em with fucking kindness.
“Have a seat.” Ray motioned to a metal folding chair that was positioned in front of an industrial desk. He opened a mini fridge. “I got soda and water. What’s your pleasure?”
“Water would be great, thanks.” Dean took a seat, trying not to cringe as the cold metal seeped through the ass of his jeans. It might be hot as hell outside, but Ray’s office felt like the Arctic with the way he had the air-conditioning blasting.
Ray pulled out two bottled waters and handed one over before sitting behind the desk.
After a few more minutes of shooting the shit, Ray speared him with his eyes. “So, tell me why you’re really here, Dean.”
Dean leaned back in his chair, legs spread wide, and didn’t bother beating around the bush. “To be honest, I could use a job.” He held his breath and Ray’s gaze as he waited for him to speak, not letting it show how much he had riding on the answer. He’d left everything familiar behind to start this new venture and hoped to shit it would pan out.
After what felt like a lifetime, Ray finally spoke. “I’m gonna assume you know your way around an engine.”
He nodded curtly. “I do.”
“Okay, you can start tomorrow. Six a.m. sharp. I’ll give you two weeks to show me what you’ve got. After that, if I like you, the job becomes permanent.”
“I appreciate the opportunity.” Dean stood and held out a hand.
Ray shook it. “You got a place to stay lined up?”
“Still need to find something. Fixin’ to hit up a cheap motel in the meantime.”
“Fuck that shit. Don’t waste your money. I’ve got a buddy who owns some apartments not too far from here. Some of the guys you’ll be working with live there. Nothing fancy, but cleaner than a motel and cheaper, too. Five hundred a month, includes utilities. Stay as long as you like or until you find something better.”
“Sounds good. I’m definitely interested.”
Ray opened his desk drawer and took out a set of keys. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Dean followed Ray back out front. He beelined to a black and chrome hog, calling over his shoulder before getting on, “Follow me. It’s only a few blocks down the street.”
Ray pulled his bike over in front of a long row of single-story apartments. Dean did a quick count. There were eight in total.
After getting off their bikes, Ray led him to the first in line and knocked. A guy in a Budweiser tee and faded jeans opened the door.
“Hey, Jim. Got a tenant for you. Name’s Dean Keller. I just hired him on.”
Jim gave him a once over before holding out a hand. “Nice to meetcha.”
Dean shook it. “Same.”
Jim leaned away from the doorway, coming back into view with a set of keys. “Got one’s been vacant a couple of months now. Guy who used to rent it moved on to greener pastures. Got his degree, then got some fancy-ass job in LA.”
He stepped out, and they walked three units down. After sticking the key in the deadbolt, he twisted the lock at the same time shoving the door with his shoulder. “Gets stuck during the hotter months. Wood swells. Just need to give it a good push.”
Dean crossed the threshold, and it was like stepping into a furnace. But Ray had been right, the place was clean. Spotless from what he could tell. It had a basic apartment setup. Living area straight ahead, a small kitchen to the left, an archway that led to a hall and presumably the bedroom to the right.
“Whew, it’s hotter than fucking Hades in here.” Ray moved to a back window and pulled up the blinds before sliding the window open.
“It doesn’t have central air, but with the ocean breeze, you leave the windows open for a while and it’ll cool off. There is a window unit in the bedroom, though,” Jim supplied.
Dean took a few steps farther into the living room, glancing around. “I’m used to the heat.”
“Yeah, where you from?”
“Was living in Tennessee.” He turned to Jim and smirked. “Until I got sick of the heat and humidity.”
Ray laughed, tucked his hands into his back pockets, and looked at Dean. “Well, what do you think?”
The place was fully furnished—sofa, recliner, coffee and end tables, TV. Everything was at least two decades old but was in decent shape, and he wasn’t fucking picky. “It’s perfect.