Page 9 of Mechanic

Using me as an example to the class, the instructors reinforced the importance of being able to deal with everything under any circumstances.

The funeral home made quick work of taking care of Gram. Holding her urn of ashes tightly to my chest as I step into my apartment, having just returned from there. Closing the door, I place the simple, white marble and silver urn on the end table next to the couch.

Tears fill my eyes again, but I refuse to let them fall. My eyes have been red and swollen for days.

Forcing myself up from the couch, I shuffle to the bathroom. I grab a washcloth from the closet and turn the hot water on in the sink.

Running the towel under the stream of hot water, I ring out the excess, shutting off the faucet.

Heading back to the couch, I lie down, putting the warm cloth over my eyes.

The past several days’ lack of sleep and stress catches up to me, pulling me into a deep slumber.

Chapter 7

Roderick

It’s unclear what Aymond and Sheriff Galloway talked about since they both refuse to tell me. But the attitude toward me has changed dramatically. Not just from the sheriff either. The entire town is treating me like a long-lost family member.

When I confronted Aymond about it, his response was vague at best. Instead of answering me, he deflected to the state of the hotel and casino.

The casino is coming along nicely. All of the plumbing, wiring, insulation, drywall, and flooring have been completed in both buildings.

I had the construction crew put a rush on one of the rooms. As soon as it was habitable, I checked out of my hotel room inDewhurst, the next town over. Being on-site and not having to drive back and forth has been a Godsend.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sereno,” a voice calls through the closed door.

Flipping the screen on my laptop closed, I make my way to the door. Pulling it open, a young man stands there. He looks nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Yes.” The sound of my voice has his head whipping around as he jumps, his gaze having been focused down the hallway.

“Uhm, sorry to, ah, disturb you, sir,” he stutters out. “There’s a, ahm, building-building inspector here to, ah, see you, sir.”

“Thanks, take me to him,” I reply. Making sure I have my room key, I let the door close behind me, following the kid out of the hotel.

As we walk, he keeps looking over his shoulder, checking to make sure I am still behind him. Restraining my eye roll, I say nothing. Unless someone has really messed up to the point where it costs me money, I think that I am a pretty easygoing guy.

Stepping into the lobby area of the casino, the building inspector is easy to spot. Dressed in a suit that appears to be two sizes too small, I suppress a groan. The button of his jacket looks like it will pop with the first deep breath he takes. His pants are two inches too short, showing bare ankles above the edge of his loafers. Years ago, people made fun of a television celebrity for the ill-fitting suit he wore. Now, it’s a fashion trend.

Continuing my assessment of the guy, his light brown hair, parted to the side, is slicked with so much product the separate strands look glued together. He turns around, making eye contact with me. Owlish eyes blink at me from behind silver, wire-rimmed glasses.

“Fuck me,” I mutter under my breath.

My patience wears thin as the kid and I continue to stare at each other.

“I’m Roderick Sereno, you wanted to see me?”

Raising an eyebrow at the guy due to his lack of response to my introduction, I cross my arms over my chest. He blinks several more times before finally speaking.

“Yes,” he confirms, looking at his clipboard and flipping up some papers attached to it, looking for something. “Sorry, I am here to inspect the utilities, and if they pass, sign off on them.”

“Sure, sure,” I respond automatically, trying not to let my annoyance show at his lack of self-introduction.

This guy was due three days ago. Biting my tongue, literally, as the copper tang fills my mouth, it takes great restraint not to flip out. My instinct is to snap out at the lack of social skills this kid has, but getting the approval for the next stage of construction is in his hands. If I piss him off, he can fuck me over, big time. This leaves me no choice but to play nice.

We continue to stare at each other, his eyes wide. Not wanting to waste anymoretime, I clap my hands together, causing him to startle. Pasting a fake smile on my face, hoping that my frustration isn’t obvious, I speak.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

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