Chapter 6: The Shop

Dutton Collision sits on the east end of Main Street between a tire store and a vacant lot.

I used to do my homework at the front counter when I was ten.

It still smells of primer and cold coffee.

I came in through the side door at twelve-thirty and the shop went quiet around me.

Two of my father's men stood by a gray pickup with its hood up.

His office manager sat behind the counter with her glasses on her head, pretending to look at an invoice.

My dad was standing in the middle of the bay, in his work jacket, with his arms at his sides.

Colby was next to him in a clean shirt, holding his phone.

He had been told to stand there and had not been told why.

"Thank you for coming," my dad said to me.

"Of course."

"I want to do this once, and I want to do it right."

He turned to my brother.

"Colby. Show me something with your name on it from the school."

"Dad, I showed Mom."

"I know you did. Show me."

"Like what?"

"Your student ID. Your schedule. A grade. I don't care what it is."

Somewhere behind me a wrench hit the concrete.

Colby stood very still.

Then he opened his phone and scrolled, thumb moving fast.

He held it out.

It was a screenshot of a web page, with the university's logo in the corner and a list of courses under his name.

My dad took the phone and held it at arm's length because he doesn't like his reading glasses in front of the men.

"Marketing Strategy," he read. "Consumer Behavior. Business Statistics."

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