Chapter 21: The Table

Jesse's POV

I cleared the cars out of the middle bay at ten.

By noon nineteen men were sitting on toolboxes and overturned buckets in the smell of motor oil.

Nobody had ever voted on anything in my garage.

I stood by the lift with my arms folded and tried to look like I knew what I was doing.

Hallie leaned against the back wall next to the tire rack, with her hair tied up in the leather cord.

I wasn't looking at her.

I had been not looking at her for about four minutes.

"All right," the man with the gray ponytail said, and clapped his hands once. "Let's get this done. Three questions."

"One, what do we call ourselves. Two, who's in charge. Three, what are the rules."

"In that order?" the big man asked.

"In whatever order gets us home by supper."

They argued about the name for twenty minutes.

Somebody wanted the Iron Pines, and was shouted down.

Somebody wanted the Mill Spur Brothers, and was shouted down louder.

A prospect with a soft voice said, "What about the Switchbacks?"

He turned red.

"It's the road up Schultz Pass. The one with all the turns."

"You don't know where you're going until you've come around the last one."

A silence followed.

"The Switchbacks," the man with the gray ponytail said, trying it out. "Hands."

Every hand in the garage went up.

The prospect looked like he might cry.

"Two," the gray ponytail said. "Who's in charge?"

"Jesse," the big man said.

I unfolded my arms.

"No."

"That's three votes."

"It's not a vote. I'm saying no."

"Why?"

"Because I've watched what happens when one man decides everything."

I looked at the faces on the buckets.

"I spent my whole life in a club where a man's word was the law," I said.

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