by Lauren Dane
PJ frowned at Audra. “I know you’re probably right. What if he doesn’t take me seriously? I mean, why should he? He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what I can do. I didn’t have my portfolio yet.”
She’d been building a portfolio of her painting work so if—no, when—Asa met with her, she’d have something concrete to show him.
“Really? So you’re going to carry around a portfolio with you at all times? Like he’d have been cool with you just breaking it out at the bar? You know how to do this, PJ. This is like your destiny and whatnot.”
PJ snorted. “My destiny?”
“You know what I mean. You were raised to run your family’s business.”
“And then I turned out to be an artist. The shame of it.”
Audra threw her balled-up napkin at PJ’s head. “You know my opinion of Howie’s parenting.”
Howie being Howard Colman Jr., PJ’s father.
“Just because you dropped out of college doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You knew it wasn’t right for you. Thing is, you know cars. Your grandfather raised you to love them like he did. And you’re artistic and damned good at painting things. I’m sure Asa is just really busy. But even if he doesn’t take you seriously now, he will once you’re done with him. On a side note, apart from your ability, which we’ve already established as mighty, he’s also going to want to get you into bed. You said you two had that sort of chemistry.”
PJ had known Audra since they’d both been kids. It was one of her favorite things in her life that they had such a strong friendship. She knew Audra would say exactly what she needed to hear.
“We did have the tinglies for one another. But he and Duke built Twisted Steel from the ground up. It’s not like they could have done it if he’d been following his dick around like it found him water.”
“A dowsing dick?” Audra asked.
“I think I saw that in the Jim Rose Circus a few years ago.” They both laughed. “He just seems like the kind of man…” PJ paused, trying to find the right words. “He’s under control. It sort of rolled off him. He’s in charge of himself. I’m not saying he doesn’t get laid on the regular. I’m just saying he doesn’t lead with that head.”
“I need to get a closer look at this guy. Which is an excellent segue into me reminding you that you’re my best friend, so you need to say you’ll do this pinup calendar photo shoot so my boyfriend can keep a job. It pays. There’s sure to be hot guys around, and you’ll keep your spot as the best friend in the whole world. Which is priceless.”
Audra’s boyfriend, Tom, had combined forces with some other graphic arts designers and what had been planned as a fun little side project had transformed into a full-blown pinup calendar showcasing the wares of local indie artisans of everything from clothing to jewelry.
And the shoot would undoubtedly take place at a garage of some sort, which gave her another chance to network.
As PJ had told her sister a few weeks before, it was good to attract a whole new kind of business to keep Colman relevant and integral. All those gearheads, the build-and-restore crowd as well as the racing teams, needed paint on their projects. Why not expand Colman Enterprises to fill a market need?
Money was good. Work was good. Doing something nice for a friend was also good.
“Oh, all right.”
A commotion followed as a group of their friends came in, including Tom and PJ’s ex. Aaron looked around until he saw her and headed her way.
“I gotta go,” she muttered, gathering her stuff.
Audra put a hand out. “No. We were here first. This is our place.”
“Just not when I know he’s going to be here.”
It wasn’t even that she couldn’t get over him or still loved him or any of that. It was more like she was so embarrassed that she’d ever actually fallen for any of his crap that being around him was the equivalent of Sunday dinner at her parents’ house.
Tense. Uncomfortable, with the bitter stench of disappointment and passive-aggressive anger in the air. It made her tired and irritated. But he was a good lesson. That’s how she’d chosen to think about it.
They were part of the same social circle—which was how she’d found out about the cheating—so they’d see one another frequently. She wasn’t going to get rid of her friends, and eventually she’d tolerate his existence again. But she wasn’t there yet.
Aaron tried to slide next to PJ but she held a hand out. “No.”
His pretty face screwed up a little as he struggled to understand. “Come on, Penny.”
PJ curled her lip. “I’m not your fucking Penny. Just go be elsewhere.”
Aaron had convinced himself they were somehow meant to be. Maybe because she was the first woman who’d kicked his butt to the curb when she’d caught him stepping out. Maybe it was that he wanted what he couldn’t have. Whatever. She didn’t care why, really. Although she had been pretty pissed until she got the all-clear back from her doctor, because heaven knew what he could have given her.
“How long are you going to punish me?”
PJ looked at him and then over to Audra, shaking her head. “Is he kidding with this?”
“You know where I am when you realize we’re meant to be together, Penny.”
“Dude, have some self-respect.” Tom, Audra’s boyfriend, rolled his eyes and dragged Aaron off. “Come on, let’s get more pitchers. It’ll give you something to do so my girl won’t scoop your eyes out with a spoon.”
Tom sent PJ a grin as he swept Aaron away. Audra grabbed PJ’s arm and pulled her back to sit. “We already decided you weren’t leaving.”
Audra raised her glass, patiently waiting for PJ to do the same.
Audra made a prim face and then smirked. “You haven’t been out with us for nearly two months. I’m planting my flag right here. This is our table and the Ditch is our place and we don’t give a fuck if Aaron is around. He needs to see you every Friday so he can wallow in the hell he exists in now.”
Audra was seriously the best friend anyone could ask for. She always took PJ’s side, always had her back, always listened and supported and definitely kicked her butt when PJ needed it.
They all drank.
“I’m going to be sorry I asked,” PJ began, “but what you do mean by ‘the hell Aaron exists in now’?”
“The one where he doesn’t get to see you naked anymore. But he can still remember how awesome it was.”
They were still laughing when the guys got back with pitchers and several more of their friends. Audra positioned herself so that Aaron had to sit farther down the table. Enough out of range that PJ could pretend he didn’t exist.
She had awesome friends.
“I need you to handle a meeting for me tomorrow,” Jay said as he breezed into her office without knocking.
The oldest Colman sibling was the most like their father. Jay had been raised to own every room he entered. To broadcast his will and make it happen. And in his own way, he craved acceptance from Howard Jr. with the same wary yearning PJ did. They were both smart enough to know it was folly and yet they both kept at it.
Still, Jay, though constantly having to war with their uncle for access to their father, was a pretty decent brother. He’d been jammed into his life in ways she couldn’t possibly understand. Sure, she was expected to do certain things, but Jay had the weight of their generation on his shoulders. He was the oldest. He’d lead when their father and uncle stepped aside.
It made him a prick sometimes. But she loved him despite his flaws. Even at times like this, when he simply took for granted that people would obey his missives.
PJ finished the last sentence of her e-mail before sending it off and looking up at him. “Can’t. I’ve got a prior engagement tomorrow.” She’d be shooting the calendar all day.
“I said I’d play golf with Dad, Uncle Fee, and Shawn. The meeting is just a thing down at the factory. They need some petting. You’re good at that.”
“So wait. You, Dad,
Fee, and Shawn are all going golfing? Is Julie going?”
The look on his face told PJ it hadn’t even occurred to him to invite either of his sisters.
“So you boys go off to play and we have to handle the dirty work? I have plans tomorrow, and I can’t move them around. Can you find out if they’re free to meet today? Though you could stand to hear more voices that aren’t Dad’s or Fee’s.”
Her brother was brilliant in so many ways. But sometimes he was so focused he missed things outside his view. He knew money and he knew markets. But he wasn’t as good when it came to people.
And he’d say—with some truth—that she didn’t spend enough time learning money and markets and too much on people.
“I don’t have the time to hold hands, PJ.”
“Colman is built on that face-to-face, I’m-just-like-you interaction with not just the people in our industry but our own people too.”
“Which is why I’m sending you to pet them.”
PJ sighed and then flapped a hand toward her door. “Well? Run along and find out if they can meet me today. But Jay? This is my company too. Julie’s company. This is some medieval bullshit and I’m not going to tolerate it.”
She and her sister were really sick and tired of the way her brothers, father, and uncle tended to run Colman Enterprises based on decisions they made in places women weren’t allowed or invited.
“I’m CEO. Fee is CFO. We don’t need to consult you or Julie. But this is just golf.”
“That you’d stand there and say ‘it’s just golf’ when that’s how men have been making deals—and excluding women, I should add—for decades makes me want to stab you with my pencil right now.”
“Jesus, Penelope Jean. Lay off. You grew up rich. You have a job, but this is not your sweatshop. You are not abused.”
Ugh. Brothers pushing sisters’ buttons; it was an old-ass story, but she hated it when he patronized her.
“Oh hey, Jay?” She flipped him off with both hands. “Did you get an A in Smug Bastard 101? I never said a thing about being abused or being in a sweatshop. I said this is my company too. You ought to try listening to me sometimes. I have good ideas.”
“You can’t even stick with a hair color and you think I’m going to consult you when it comes to decisions for my business?”
His ribbing about his disdain for her feminist ideals was one thing; mainly it was affectionate even if he was a dingus about it. But there was an edge to what he’d just said. An edge that was a slap in her face. You’re not smart enough or good enough to listen to.
An edge that made the fire in her belly to prove herself to him glow. “My hair color has nothing to do with my ideas.”
“Your hair color is an indicator that your ideas are not normal.”
“Normal? So I’m abnormal because I have purple hair? Are you kidding me? From the outside you’re a perfectly handsome dude in his midthirties, but you’re like four hundred and twelve years old inside. Dried up. Yes, I’m different, Jay. So? Great-Grandpa ran moonshine. You think that was normal? You think he never took risks? He took risks every time he made a run. Being different is who we are.”
“You should have stayed in college and gotten your BA in English. Clearly you know a lot of pretty words that don’t mean shit when it comes to payday. Purple hair doesn’t sell accounts.”
“Did you read up on how to be this patronizing and insulting, or did you just inherit the ability from Dad and Fee?” PJ was proud her voice didn’t shake. Sometimes it was hard not to react emotionally to this sort of baiting. She knew some of her family discounted her for being different, and it hurt. Because they didn’t take her any more seriously when she did what they expected her to either.
It filled her with futile anger and hurt, but she had gotten pretty good at hiding just how much. “Purple hair sold more than you did last month.” She tipped her chin at the navy blue binder on the corner of her desk. “Fee’s special numbers say so. Now get out of my office. I’m working and I’m no longer interested in helping you with your problem. Handle your own meeting. I’m busy tomorrow, just like I told you.”
He threw his hands up in the air, but he’d been thwarted and she knew he understood that. It was a stupid, petty win, not that it’d stop her from claiming it.
CHAPTER
Three
Taco Friday is your best idea yet.” Asa filled a plate and moved on down the line of ingredients.
Duke shrugged. “I have them from time to time.”
“They generally involve food or liquor. You’re Shaggy and Scooby rolled into one.”
Duke laughed. “Right on. More evidence of how lucky you are to have me around.”
Asa snorted. But Duke was right. From pretty much the time they’d met in the army, Duke had been his friend. Had his back, in both the metaphysical sense and the physical one. Duke had saved Asa from getting killed more than once.
The lunchroom at Twisted Steel currently held all eleven employees, so it was loud and raucous. Which might also have something to do with the fact that it was Beer and Taco Friday.
It had been a hell of a long last few weeks. They’d pushed one total rebuild out as well as two other smaller jobs. Asa had slept on the couch in his office at least once a week rather than face a drive home after three a.m.
But the work had all been delivered to very happy clients, he was soon to be full of tacos and beer, and all was right with the world.
He and Duke had bought the building the shop sat in five years before, and Asa felt like it was only now truly operating to its full potential. They’d had three employees back then and only used about a quarter of the space. Now they had a showroom, eleven full-time employees, and a host of people they contracted work out to.
There he was, a successful business owner. A homeowner. Asa Barrons, the kid who’d grown up in trailers and shitty public housing apartments in Houston, now had multiple cars, money in the bank, and a life free of chaos and pain.
They had built something together, he and his friend—a business both men could be proud of. It was the ticket out he and Duke had barely known to have dreamed about.
“I’m going to sleep the hell out of a lot of hours,” Asa said, taking several long pulls from his beer once he’d collapsed into a chair and set his food down.
Duke settled in across from him. “No lie. I’ve gotta be back here at ten, though. No way would I miss such a fantastic opportunity.”
“What?”
“I told you about this last week. The pinup calendar shoot? They’re using the showroom and some of the bays,” Duke explained. “Don’t worry; I made sure Casey went over everything they have access to. They won’t get near any work in progress. Plus I’ll be here. Looking at hot women.”
“I probably wasn’t listening.”
“See what happens when you don’t?”
Hot women draped over his machines. Now that was indeed a way to spend a Saturday. He’d planned to come in to catch up on paperwork that next afternoon anyway.
Asa tended to keep in his head, especially when he was in the middle of a project. It’s all he thought of, the need to put his hands on something, to stamp it with his vision, to watch it yield under his will.
“Thanks for the save. Guess I’ll be here at ten instead of noon like I planned.”
“I was thinking of heading out to the track on Sunday. You up for it?”
Duke and Asa had recently started a racing team they co-owned with a group of their friends. It brought Asa to the track a lot, and that’s when he’d discovered how incredible it was to drive the track himself.
“Hell yes.”
Duke tipped his chin. “Fastback?”
On a motorcycle trip down the coast to Los Angeles the summer before, Asa and Duke had found the beat-up shell of a 1968 Fastback and had to have it. They’d spent their spare time since restoring it.
Duke was magic with machines. The best mechanic Asa knew. He’d built the engine they’d wanted
as Asa had coaxed all the badass back into the frame.
The result was a growling, hellaciously fast beast.
“Indeed. Depending on the conditions I might take the bike out too.”
“Your mom is going to kill me if you eat pavement, you know that, right?”
Fast and hard was his favorite. Nothing else felt quite like driving very, very fast. He didn’t have the talent to actually make a living racing. His talents lay elsewhere in the car universe. But he had access to a track and lots of fast machines, and he used that every chance he got.
“My mom uses a cane, you big whiner. You can outrun her. Then again, she doesn’t need to catch you. I bet she could throw it and knock you out from ten feet away.” Two years before, his mother had to have her foot amputated after complications from diabetes.
“I’m telling her you said that.”
“To Pat, that’s a love poem.” Asa grinned, thinking of how awesome his mom was.
“Speaking of that, the arbor you built over her back patio is really nice.”
Asa had gone into the army because it was that or end up in jail. He’d had more anger and potential for violence inside him than he could process. Years spent on the verge of trouble or running from it had left him feeling out of control and exhausted.
So he’d enlisted and then spent several years using the opportunity to make himself into a better man. A better son. To keep himself from landing in trouble in the army, he’d sent home most of his pay. It had been enough to get his mom and two sisters into a safer neighborhood.
He’d kept sending his mom what he could, even once he’d returned to the U.S. and left the military. Eventually, after the surgery, he’d convinced her and his youngest sister to move out to Seattle. It meant everything to him that he could provide for her at long last after she’d fought so hard most of her life just to survive.
“She needed some shade back there. Those big windows made her kitchen and living room way too warm.” He didn’t like her to be uncomfortable. “Anyway, what were you doing over there? You spoil her worse than I do.”