Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

“It’s not pretty, but it’s clean.”
    Casey smiled. “If only I could say that much for myself.”
    His eyes narrowed playfully. “I don’t know. You look pretty clean to me.”
    Casey barked a laugh, and Aaron turned to pick new tires off the wall, which he held up to the bike. “Look good?”
    “Perfect.”
    He set to work, whistling.
    “So have you worked here long?” Casey watched his black-smeared fingers, marveling that she hadn’t noticed them at rehearsal.
    “Since I graduated from high school.”
    “And that was what? Last year?”
    He glanced back at her. “How young do you think I am? I’ve been out three years.”
    “And you came here right away?”
    His ears reddened, and Casey could see his jaw bunching. “Pretty much. I’d thought about college…” He shrugged. “But that didn’t exactly work out.”
    Casey wanted to ask why, but wasn’t sure she should be that personal. After all, she’d known the kid a total of two days. If you could call the little she’d seen him “knowing.”
    “And Jack? He’s your brother, right? A year younger?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Does he work here, too?”
    He was quiet for a moment as he spun the front wheel of the bike. “No. He works down at HomeMaker.”
    “Really?”
    He stopped the tire and moved to the back one. “For now, anyway. We were surprised he lasted through Christmas.” He turned to her. “You heard about that?”
    “I heard.”
    “Well.” He was back at the tire. “Somehow he got missed when the lay-offs happened. His whole section did. But it really doesn’t matter. He’ll be out of a job come a month or two, anyway.”
    “Any ideas for where he’ll go next?” Not college, apparently.
    Aaron shook his head and gestured at the garage. “Not here. The owner can barely afford me, let alone another guy. It’s just me and him, and when he’s not here…” He shrugged. “We do what we can. It’s not like folks have the money to be doing work on their cars unless they absolutely have to, anyway.”
    All of which explained the unmanned cash register at the front, and the one guy she’d found at the station the day before.
    “Do you get other customers? Other than from town?”
    “Some.”
    “People who work at HomeMaker?”
    He looked at her sharply. “A few.”
    “The CEO?”
    He snorted. “Karl Willems bring his car here? I don’t think so. He’d never trust us smalltown hicks with his precious Cadillac.”
    “What about Rosemary and Lillian? Do they bring their car here?” The Orion in the garage looked undriven, but that could’ve been from the care.
    “Their old Civic? When it needs it. But they don’t drive that much, and Civics don’t need a lot of work, so…” He plugged an air compressor onto the back tire’s air valve and gave it a pump. In a few seconds he was done and swinging the bike down from its perch. “Good as new.”
    Casey wondered about the Orion, but didn’t want to bring it up in case the ladies did, indeed, take it elsewhere for service. “Thank you, Aaron. What do I owe you?”
    Aaron wheeled the bike back to the front of the garage and stepped behind the cash register, where he scribbled on a receipt pad. “Two new tires, plus installation.” He ripped off the sheet and held it out to her.
    She pulled some bills from her wallet and placed them in his hand. “Keep the change, okay? I am allowed to tip you?”
    He blinked. “I guess. No one’s ever tried before.”
    She smiled. “There’s a first for everything.”
    “Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome. And thank you . Now I won’t have to come down to the air pump every morning.”
    “Too bad. I could use the company.”
    She mounted the bike, enjoying the feeling of the firm tires. “Just because I won’t need air doesn’t mean I can’t come by.”
    “Sure. And I’ll see you at rehearsal tonight, anyway. Right?”
    “Right. Now—” She tilted her head toward the garage. “Back to your hip hop.”
    He grinned. “Until the next customer scares me to death.”
    She waved, and pedaled the bike out to the road.
    When she looked back, Aaron was gone. She could already hear his music.

Chapter Sixteen
    Casey took her time riding down the town’s streets, unoccupied as they were by cars or people. The architecture was impressive—or, it would’ve been a hundred years earlier. Her tour made it clear that The Nesting Place wasn’t the only pretty Queen Anne in town. Just the only one whose owners