Page 8 of Jep

“In life, you need to learn to work with whatever circumstances you’re faced with.”

“I can’t work with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

“Of course you can. People do it all the time.” He put a hand on Moses and leaned into him. “And Slate’s not giving you a hard time because he disrespects you, you know. He’s always afraid that the new guy is going to replace him. He grew up in and out of foster care, like you. Now he’s waiting to be booted out of here. It’s the first place where he’s felt at home in his life. You just have to give him time.”

Jep had had his own confrontations with Slate over the last year. He was way too cocky for his own good, but they had made progress. That didn’t make Jep want to give up on the whole show any less. If only life had presented him with a better offer.

“Time? You want me to give him time? His problem will not be solved with time. You want me back, you get rid of him.”

“You know I won’t do that. You all deserve a chance.”

“Not even over that fight? You want me to tell you what he really said? The exact words?”

“I don’t need you to. I know him better than you do. But you’re telling me you can handle a fist to the face but not some rude words?”

“I don’t like him.”

“I don’t always like him either. Or you, for that matter. But I’d like you both to stay. Work through your trouble. It will be worth it in the end. I don’t want to lose you over a few words.”

Moses tsked, then shook his head, his dark eyes brightening a little. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

Moses waved dismissively as he trudged to his car, an old beat up Honda Accord that Jep had salvaged for him so he could get to work.

The alternator belt shrieked as Moses turned the engine over. Jep had forgotten to show him how to change it. And it was possible he’d never get the chance now.

Moses peeled out of the driveway, spewing blue-tinged smoke that mingled with the tiny stones and dust that kicked into the air as he sped off.

Jep waved uselessly, then walked toward the workshop, testing his face. It was puffy, but it hadn’t been the hardest hit he’d ever taken.

Inside, Slate was cleaning up the mess he and Moses had made. He sniffed as Jep passed him. “Good riddance to him,” he said, straightening the oil filters.

Jep spun and shoved him against the hood of a car, pinning him there. He wasn’t angry, but these guys didn’t always listen unless you forced them to.

“That’s how you want to handle this?” Jep said, pressing his forearm into Slate’s sternum. “I expect better from you. You’ve been here the longest. You know more than anyone how you need to behave.”

“But he?—”

“You think I invite you guys here because you have a right to be here? You’re grown men. Working in this place is a privilege. You should be able to sort out your own problems.”

“Yes, sir.”

He gave him one more shove before he stepped back and shook himself out. “Go home.”

“But—”

“That’s what you get for treating others worse than you want to be treated.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Slate?”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, keeping his focus on the cracked concrete floor. He toed an oil stain.

“I’ll see you back here in the morning?”

Slate’s jaw flexed several times before he responded. “If that’s what you want.”

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