The Painted Man - by Dan Watters

Chapter 19

The bell at the entry into Two Bros. Auto Parts rang as I pushed through the door. Nick followed behind me, blocking my exit. Not that I felt like running. I just didn't want to be there for what was about to happen. I wound my way through the shelves of spare parts. In my hand, my phone rang. It was Tom Hoke.

'I can't talk. I'm at work.'

'NBC want to interview you.'

'I'll call you back.'

The back of the room opened onto Uncle Johnny's office. He was seated behind his desk, feet up as usual, but he wasn't reading. He had company. Seated opposite Johnny was a man with white hair and a ponytail. The man turned to face me. It was Geoffrey. He didn't offer a smile.

'I thought you quit?' I said.

'Someone convinced me to come along. This is your last chance, Will. You can't keep talking to the media.'

'Is that coming from Del Mar?'

'It's coming from me.' Uncle Johnny stood up and drew a set of keys off the office desk. He threw the keys to Nick. 'Open the locker.'

Nick glanced at the set of keys. His face drained of colour as if he'd seen a ghost.

'Are you sure?'

Johnny nodded.

My phoned pinged. It was another message from Tom.

-Urgent. Call me.-

'Leave your phone. Come with me,' said Johnny, standing up and coming around the desk. I put my phone on the desk and followed him into the warehouse. Back in the office, Geoffrey remained seated in the worn leather seats, a picture of patience.

'Last night, what you did was my mistake,' said Johnny. His words surprised me. He was taking responsibility for what I did. 'There was a reason why we told you not to talk to the media. We just didn't share that reason with you. I didn't want you to know. But, it seems like you have a way of getting into trouble so I'm going to make it clear. I'm going to show you why we need to keep a low profile.'

Johnny lead me to the tall sliding door that had become his private storage. For months I'd wondered what was inside. Now, I was wondering how this had anything to do with what I'd done last night. Johnny looked around the warehouse. It was empty. He gave Nick a hand signal and Nick jangled through a clutch of keys, unbolting a lock and pulling back a thick metal bracket. He put his weight on the door. There was a loud screech of metal on metal. But he didn't open the door entirely. Just enough to squeeze through. On the other side of the small gap was darkness. Johnny waved me towards the opening scanning the empty warehouse.

'The guys are going to be starting soon. Come on. Let's go.'

Despite months of wanting to see inside the storage room, I wasn't too keen on going first. Nick must have sensed my hesitation and turned in front of me, squeezing through the gap to disappear inside.

With one hand in my back, Johnny pushed me gently over the threshold into darkness which became darker when he rolled the door closed.

'Light it up.'

Tubes hummed overhead flickering fluorescent to light up a large space filled with cars. There was a mezzanine above running the perimeter of the room and underneath were toolboxes, workbenches and shelves full of car parts. It reminded me of a NASCAR racing team workshop I had been to in North Carolina years ago. The place was clean. Racing clean. The floors were painted, swept and mopped. The walls were lined and finished with large plywood sheets. It was nice. The cars in the centre of the room were nice too, but they were Frankies, made up of parts from a dozen salvage vehicles and assembled in all likelihood by Nick and Johnny.