Page 4 of The Virgin
Spencer had put weeks of work into securing funding for the shop programs because they weren’t exactly seen as essential. There had been a big push in the past to steer kids toward math and science, toward university degrees and doctorates, but the world needed people who worked with their hands. It needed carpenters and plumbers. People who brought other people’s visions to life and built homes.
One thing that Spencer had witnessed in his years teaching shop was the wonders it could do for a kid’s self-esteem. There were tons of kids who struggled with the academic subjects but excelled in his classes. He did his best to make sure all his kids had a good time in his class, but he had a soft spot for the ones who struggled elsewhere.
“Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?” Spencer asked.
“I have ribs marinating, so you and Damon better show up or I’ll die of indigestion.” Jonah was a hell of a cook. His entire family were kitchen gods, probably because they grew up in their dad’s diner. While Jonah and Colby had gone on to other things, Taylor, the youngest brother, still worked the diner with their dad Ethan. Spencer usually swung by there once or twice a month for breakfast.
“What are you doing tonight?” Spencer asked Jonah as they stepped into the parking lot. The warm breeze danced across his skin, reminding him there were a handful of months left in the school year. Spencer couldn’t wait for summer break to throw himself fully into his projects.
“Nothing much.” Jonah stuffed his hand in his pocket and pulled his keys out. “I’m probably going to stay up late grading papers and watching bad television.”
“Or you could watch good television.”
“That’s boring.” Jonah laughed. He turned to Spencer and, for a moment, Spencer thought he wanted to say something, but then the look disappeared and Jonah’s walls went back up. Even though Jonah was Spencer’s best friend and his colleague, there were things about him that Spencer didn’t know. Most of the time he was okay with that, but Jonah had seemed unsettled lately. If Jonah would open up to him, maybe Spencer could help, but unless Jonah was honest with him, there was nothing he could do.
“I need to get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Once he had Spencer’s agreement, Jonah got in his car like his ass was on fire. Spencer watched him go before getting into his own vehicle. Eventually Jonah would crack, and Spencer would be there when all the stuff he’d been bottling up spilled out.
Spencer lived in a small house with a big shop on the outskirts of town. He was lucky to own anything, let alone a space that let him do what he loved, but it had been his grandparents’ place. His grandma had loved to garden, and though Spencer didn’t have a green thumb, he did his best to keep the yard tidy and the gardens from being overrun with weeds.
The shop wasn’t enormous, but it was big enough for two vehicles to park inside, not that he ever used it for that purpose. It was where he did all his wood and metal work at home. Lately he’d been more into his metal projects.
Spencer made a quick detour into the house to check on the food he’d started in the crockpot that morning. The kitchen had been updated in the nineties, which meant it was out of date again, but Spencer didn’t care much about aesthetic. Besides, he loved the wood cabinets and the beige tiled floor. The house had a million memories inside it. His grandparents had practically raised him, after all. It was his grandpa who’d taught him how to weld and how to run a chop saw. Everything he knew, he learned from him. Grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge, he headed out to his shop.
When his grandpa was still around, bless him, he’d been a packrat. And what he lacked in organizational skills, he’d made up for with enthusiasm and a memory like a steel trap. He could find a lug nut, a wrench, or a bent nail in any heap of junk. Clearing through it after his passing had been somewhat nightmarish, but the end result was a shop with industrial strength shelves from floor to ceiling along two of the walls. There was a workbench that ran the length of a third wall, and the fourth wall was taken up by garage doors. In the summer, Spencer often left all the doors open and worked with the fresh air blowing in. In the winter, he kept everything shut tight and had a couple of space heaters he used to keep himself from freezing to death.
Spencer popped the top off his first beer and leaned against the counter, staring at his current project. Right now, it was little more than a pile of chains, but eventually it would be a bear. He wanted to build the body out of thick chains, then add some texture in with smaller links. He ended up selling most of his pieces, but depending on how this one turned out, he might move it to the front yard and keep it there.
A knock on his shop door startled him, and he frowned as he crossed the floor to answer. He wasn’t entirely shocked to find Greta standing there. As an artist who specialized in upcycling, she often passed him bits she didn’t have a use for but thought he might be interested in.
“Come on in, Greta. You want a beer?” Spencer motioned to the extra one he’d brought from the house.
“No, thanks, I can’t stay. I was cruising the curbs this morning, seeing what little treasures I could find, and I found this box of pop can tabs.” Greta set the box down on the bench and flipped it open.
“There has to be thousands in there.”
“Right? Whoever started this collection was committed. Who knows what they were going to do with them. I have too many projects going right now, but I thought maybe you could use them, or you could take them to the school if you had an idea for one of your classes.” Greta smoothed her hands down the front of her paint-splattered overalls. She’d always sort of reminded him of one of those eccentric characters who were only supposed to exist in books. Her hair was a deep auburn, and the braids she kept it in were shockingly thick. When they first met, they’d flirted with the idea of dating, but that’s as far as it went. Their chemistry was limited to friends only, which suited Spencer just fine.
“I have no idea what I’m going to do with these, but I’ll think of something.” Spencer tucked them away on a shelf under the bench. “Did you want to check out my pile of castoffs?”
Greta’s eyes shimmered with delight. “Do you have any old wooden ladders? I’ve been trying to get my hands on them.”
“I don’t, but I can keep an eye out for you.”
“Damn. It’s okay. I’m sure one will turn up. There’s a light fixture I’ve been wanting to make for the loft, is all.” Greta lived in a constant state of renovation and decorating. It wasn’t a surprise to Spencer anymore for Greta to announce that she’d redone this or that in her house. Apparently this year it was light fixtures.
“I’ll leave you alone now,” Greta said, making her way toward the door to let herself out.
“Thanks for the junk,” he said to her retreating form. Her laughter rang out as she pulled the door shut behind her.
Spencer finished his first beer and got ready to work on his sculpture. The pop can tabs were now a nuisance in the back of his mind. A gnat, buzzing around his brain, begging for an idea. He finished his second beer, then grabbed his helmet and his gloves and started welding the feet of the bear. They were the trickiest part of the whole thing. Even though they’d be welded to the steel plate, they had to be built well enough to withstand all the weight they’d eventually hold.
A person with more sanity might’ve crafted the bear to stand on four legs instead of two, but Spencer wanted the sculpture to be as imposing and intimidating as a real bear.
He’d made okay progress when he stopped for a late dinner. Once the chicken breast in cream cheese with bacon was all shredded up, he added cheese and ate it in a bun. It wasn’t anywhere close to what Jonah could do, but it filled the hole.
As if he’d magicked him out of thin air, Spencer’s phone rang with Jonah’s name flashing up on the screen. Spencer answered with his mouth full of food.
“Hey, Jonah.”
