Disgrace

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  A wooden sign, which read Mike’s Auto Shop, sat tilted against the front of the building.

  Right beside the auto shop was a small cabin with a few bushes around the front. It was nothing special, but it did have that cute, homey feel to it.

  When I used to dream of having a family, I always thought we’d vacation in a cute cabin like that each year.

  As I pulled open the front door of the auto shop, it squeaked and dinged a bell above the door. I glanced around the shop, but no one was around. I walked to the front desk and hit the bell, hoping someone would notice my arrival. When no one did, I began walking around the shop.

  Out of nowhere, a big black lab started walking in my direction. He moved so slow, though, wagging his tail. When he reached me, he sat down and kept wagging his tail.

  “You must be the guy Josie told me about,” I remarked, bending down to pet him. He kept wagging his tail as his breaths sawed in and out as if the short walk exhausted him. I glanced at his dog collar. Tucker. “You’re adorable, Tucker,” I told him before he stood back up and slowly walked back to his dog bed.

  What a sweetheart.

  “Hello?” I called out, but no one answered. “Hmph.”

  I waited a bit longer in the front lobby before I heard a loud banging. Walking toward the back of the shop, I saw an open door that led to the backyard. The banging grew louder and louder as I walked through the door, and there buried behind a few trees was an automobile that looked as if it had been tossed through a hurricane a few times. Standing over it with a sledgehammer, Jackson was slamming into the vehicle.

  He stood shirtless and sweat dripped from every inch of his body as he kept pounding the car over and over again. Every muscle in his body was on full display, and I couldn’t help but notice. How could I not? Jackson might’ve been the town asshole, but his body was something worth worshipping. You didn’t come across men as handsome as he was very often—too bad his personality didn’t match his looks.

  “Hey!” I called out to him, but he didn’t look up. He kept hammering away, aggression in every hit. He had earbuds in his ears, which didn’t help his case when it came to ignoring me. So, I moved in closer. “Hey!” I shouted, pounding my hand against the car. He jumped out of his skin when he saw me, dropped his sledgehammer, and within seconds, he was cussing up a storm.

  “Holy shit!” he shouted, grabbing his left foot in his hand, the unfortunate place that the sledgehammer happened to fall. “Fuck, that hurts.”

  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I claimed, covering my mouth with my hands. “Are you okay?”

  “I just dropped a fucking sledgehammer on my foot. What the hell do you think?!” he barked.

  I would’ve called him out on his sass level, but well, he did drop a sledgehammer on his foot, so his anger seemed warranted.

  He grumbled, something he was a professional at doing, and gave me a harsh look. “What do you want?”

  “I got a call from Alex saying I should stop in to check on the car, and no one was in the shop. Then I heard you doing”—I gestured toward the destroyed car—“whatever it is that you’re doing.”

  He grumbled some more, finally dropping his foot back to the ground, and he started toward the shop. I stood there for a moment, uncertain of what I was supposed to do as he limped away.

  He glanced over his shoulder at me and huffed. “Are you coming or what?”

  “Oh, okay,” I replied, hurrying in his direction.

  Once we got inside, he walked over to my car, and said, “Alex had to run out to tow someone.” His face was sporting a bit of a five-o’clock shadow, and he brushed his hand against it. “He told me to update you on the car if he wasn’t back.”

  I placed my hands on my hips and stared at the car. “So how is she doing?”

  “She?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Cars don’t have genders.”

  “Cars definitely have genders. Just because you can’t pick up on it doesn’t mean that they don’t. Rosie, here, is definitely female.”

  “You would be the type to name a damn car.”

  “And you would be the type to complain about someone naming a car,” I remarked.

  He grumbled again, and I smiled. I felt as if my smiling irritated him, and I somewhat enjoyed annoying him because he somewhat liked to be mean to me.

  “The car’s a piece of shit. Alex should’ve tossed it into the scrapyard,” Jackson stated. “You wasted your time coming down here. It’s junk.” I took a deep breath, and he held his hand up to me. “I swear to God, princess, if you start crying, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind. I’m the one with a broken foot probably, and you don’t see me getting emotional.”

  I sniffled and tried my best to hold my emotions together. “Sorry, it’s just that Rosie and I have been through a lot.”

  “Stop calling your car a human name.”

  “Stop calling me princess.”

  “No.”

  “Then Rosie stays, too, and I’m going to call you Oscar.”

  “What the hell does that even mean?”

  “Because you’re grumpy—just like Oscar the Grouch.”

  He gave me the blankest stare. “Oh, how creative, princess.”

  “Thank you, Oscar. Because ya know, calling a woman princess is really outside of the box,” I mocked.

  “You’re annoying.”

  “And you’re a grump. But…” A knot formed in my gut, and I rubbed my hands against the back of my neck. “I am really sorry, ya know. About your foot. If you want, I can have—”

  “Nope,” he cut in.

  “What?”

  “I said no. We aren’t doing this. Let’s make something clear, this isn’t something—our back and forth interactions. This isn’t a thing.”

  His response perplexed me. “I never said it was a thing. All I was saying was—”

  “Don’t. Don’t say anything.”

  “Stop cutting me off!”

  “Then stop talking. You think I don’t see how you look at me every time you’re in that bookshop? Like there’s something about me that you can’t figure out? Well, there’s not. So if you could just please leave me the hell alone, that would be great.” And, like normal, he grumbled once more. “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Crying.”

  What? Dangit!

  “Hot. Mess,” he breathed out. “Just wait for Alex to get back,” Jackson muttered. “I don’t want to deal with you anymore.”

  Wow.

  I think I hate you.

  I went to the waiting area and sat down, leaving my purse on the table as I waited for Alex to come back. When he walked through the front door, he gave me that same bright smile. “Hey, Grace! Thanks for coming in! Have you been helped yet?”

  “Not really. I mean, Jackson spoke to me, but he wasn’t really helpful, per se. He told me the car was a piece of crap and not worth saving.”

  Alex crossed his arms. “Where is he?”

  “He’s outside banging a sledgehammer against some car like an insane man.”

  “Oh.” Alex frowned and shook as if a chill had run over him. “Don’t take it personally. He’s having a bad day.”

  I sarcastically laughed. “How can you tell? It seems as if he’s always in a mood.”

  “Yeah, but…” Alex frowned. “When he’s out there, hitting those cars, it means he’s in a bad mood. Like, really bad mood. There’s no getting through to him when he’s like that.”

  “He’s not the easiest person to deal with.”

  “That’s true, too.” He snickered and nodded, walking toward my car with me. “He’s not as bad as everyone says.”

  “No,” I agreed. “He’s worse.”

  “That’s just because you don’t know him. The Jackson I know is one of the nicest guys, but he doesn’t show it the same ways as others do. If you watch closely, you’d see it every now and then.”

  “So what you’re trying to tell me is that somewhere
inside that person’s body over there is an actual heart?”

  “Yes.” Alex smirked and leaned in toward me, whispering. “And sometimes it even beats.”

  Wow.

  What an odd concept.

  “Listen, I know the shit people say about him, and I know the rumors that get tossed around, but those lies aren’t Jackson. The truth is, he’s one of the best humans on this here Earth. It’s a shame the world is missing out on knowing him because they are so stuck in their false realities of the man that he is. He might be my only nephew, but if I had more, he’d still be my favorite.”

  “He’s your nephew?” I asked. “Mike is your brother?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “His mother was my sister.”

  Was. That word hit me so hard, and my next breath was stolen from me. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. It’s been over fourteen years. Hannah was…” His words faltered, and he cleared his throat. For the first time, I witnessed Alex frown, and it was the saddest moment. His always happy eyes became a bit dimmer. “My sister was a good person. Not a day passes that I don’t think about her. Not a day passes when Jackson doesn’t, too.”

  “I’m truly sorry. I couldn’t imagine what going through something like that is like.”

  “It’s worse than anyone could ever believe. What Mike and Jackson both went through…” He took a deep breath. “No one can understand that kind of suffering. Not even me.”

  It made it seem as if there was a lot more to the story, but I didn’t ask any questions. It wasn’t my place.

  He shook his head back and forth and washed away his somber stare. “But listening to my family’s woes is not why you’re here. Let’s talk about your car.”

  “Oh yeah, the car,” I muttered, still somewhat thinking of the monster that had greeted me.

  “Do something for me.” Alex scrunched up his nose, rubbed the back of his neck, and then tossed me the set of keys. “Give the engine a turn.”

  I did as he said, and a high-pitch sound came through before it began to smoke.

  “That can’t be good.” I laughed.

  He agreed. “Yeah, but it’s a better sound than before. I’m not giving up on it just yet.”

  “Yes, you are because it’s a piece of shit!” a person snapped, stumbling into the space. “I don’t know why you brought that into my damn shop.”

  I looked up to see a grown man wavering back and forth with a whiskey bottle in his hand. He was almost Jackson’s exact twin, except aged with wrinkle lines, gray hair, and an even more pronounced permanent scowl.

  I didn’t know someone could scowl more than Jackson.

  Alex’s persona shifted at the sight of the man. “Mike, I thought you weren’t coming in today.”

  “It’s my shop. I’m allowed to come and go as I please. Don’t forget it,” he hissed, walking over to the car. He tossed the hood down and tapped it twice. “Take this to the scrapyard.” He took a swig of the whiskey and then finally glanced my way. The moment he met my stare, I swore I saw hatred swim in his eyes. “I know you,” he hissed.

  “I don’t think so,” I replied, nerves building in my gut. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jackson in the back corner of the shop, looking our way.

  His frown was identical to his father’s.

  “I’ve seen the likes of you. You related to those people at the church?”

  “My father runs the church.”

  “Hmph. You’re a PK,” he groaned, taking another drink.

  “A PK?” Alex asked, but I knew the term. It’d been tossed my way all my life.

  “A pastor’s kid,” I answered.

  “I don’t want nothing to do with you people,” he scolded me. “So take this piece of shit car and get out of my shop.”

  “But Mike, I think I can fix it,” Alex started. It was clear Jackson’s father made him nervous. The same kind of nervous he was making me feel. It was scary being around unstable individuals because you never truly knew would come next.

  “We ain’t fixing shit for this bitch.”

  Chills down my spine.

  Knots in my stomach.

  “Dad, knock it off. Don’t be a fucking asshole,” Jackson barked from afar, growing a bit red in the face. I didn’t know someone could make Jackson seem so soft, but his father sure did. “You’re drunk.”

  “I might be drunk, but I ain’t stupid.” His eyes stayed glued to me. “I know what kind of people that church brings up, and I don’t want nothing to do with any of them. The way they act like they give a damn about people, but really, they just take their money and live in their mansions. You think I don’t see how y’all look at me when I go into town? The way you look at my boy? Like we’re some lowlifes?”

  “I don’t know you,” I whispered, my voice shaky. I only knew the stories people told, and those stories were terrifying. Though, all the stories seemed a bit based on facts that afternoon.

  “Yeah, but I know you and your type. I don’t want you anywhere near this place again, you hear me? Take yourself and that dirty money of yours elsewhere. We don’t want any of the Harris’s filth near us. Especially the daughters. Everyone knows the biggest whores are the daughters of a pastor. Now piss off and tell your God to do the same thing.”

  Did those words really just leave his drunken mouth?

  My lips parted to speak, but nothing came out. I was stunned into silence.

  I turned slightly and found Jackson’s eyes on me. He frowned as if he felt bad for me, which made me feel even worse.

  I didn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Emery because that seemed like it would’ve been a victory for him. He was intent on making me feel as though I was nothing but darkness, and the way his eyes pierced into mine made me want to vomit. I wasn’t certain what to do, so I turned around on the heels of my feet and stormed out of the shop.

  “Hey!” Jackson shouted after me. “Hold up!”

  I whipped around flustered. “I get it, all right? You guys hate us. I won’t come back.”

  “No, it’s…” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. He didn’t say anything, and he went back to his dark, sulky look.

  “What is it, Jackson?!” I snapped, annoyed by the likes of him and his father.

  He spoke low. “You forgot your purse,” he said, holding it out to me.

  I snatched it from his hands and muttered a thank you even though he didn’t deserve it.

  “Listen…” He cleared his throat. “What he said to you…that was too much.”

  “Everything he said was too much.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “My dad’s a lot sometimes.”

  “Ha. That’s putting it nicely.”

  “He has these issues with your family. He’s been through some stuff with the church after the incident a few years back.”

  “You mean when he drove his car into the church while drunk? Then he proceeded to walk into the service and cuss everyone out? There’s a reason people call him Mad Mike.”

  Jackson twitched. “Don’t call him that.”

  “That’s what everyone calls him.”

  “I fucking know that’s what everyone calls him,” he growled, making me take a step backward. He locked eyes with me, and unlike his father’s stare, I swore I saw a pained expression. As if he was fighting against his true urges. I took in a sharp breath. Always zoom in… “Just because everyone calls him that doesn’t mean you have to, too.”

  “Sorry.” I saw how the nickname affected him, how it hurt him, and right away, I regretted saying it to him. I wondered how often he heard that name as he walked through town, and I wondered how often his heart skipped because of it.

  “I know he’s an asshole, but everyone always brings up that one incident about him, and it’s labeled him forever. He was having a rough morning that day.”

  “From what I hear, it was more than rough. He took a sledgehammer to the pews.” The same way Jackson took a sledgehammer to the car outside.


  “It was a really rough morning,” Jackson replied.

  “Jackson, come on,” I argued, annoyed by how he was defending that grown monster for his actions.

  He tossed his hands up in defeat. “Yeah, okay, I get it. My dad’s a fucking asshole. If anyone knows that best, it’s me. Back then, he made a mistake—a big one—but the way the town turned on him was uncalled for. Hell, they tried to shut down his shop! They tried to burn it down. They tried to run us out of town. They protested on our lawn and called us things that you wouldn’t think would come out of the mouths of ‘saved’ people.”

  “But what he did—”

  “Was wrong, yeah, I get it. But he’s broken, and instead of showing up with that compassion bullshit this town is always pretending to have, they showed up with malice. They broke him even more and made him harder, colder. They painted us as these awful beasts and then got mad because we became the damn nightmares they created. I was just a kid. I watched these people, this town, attack my father and me because of a mistake.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened, Jackson, I really am, but I don’t see why you and your father are so against my family. We weren’t the ones storming your place.” We hadn’t done a thing to the two. We took no part in the malice they received.

  “Come on, you can’t be that stupid,” he said, seeming somewhat disappointed in my lack of understanding. “We all know who runs this town. Your family are the royals of Chester.”

  “So…? They still weren’t the ones attacking you.”

  He clasped his hands behind his neck and cocked an eyebrow. “Listen, princess, if your father or mother would’ve stood up in the church and said, ‘Stop,’ it would’ve all come to an end. They could’ve shown compassion for my father, who obviously wasn’t doing well, but they stayed quiet. They never spoke up for him. Or me.”

  My stomach ached. “Why don’t you guys just leave? Why stay in a town that makes you feel so unwelcomed?”

  He glanced back toward the shop where his father was still wandering around wasted, arguing with Alex and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “We got our reasons, and we ain’t gotta explain shit to no one,” he muttered. “Especially to a Harris.”