Chapter 3
"Dad! Got another interview here for ya! Have a seat, he'll be out to get ya in a few."
Walking back to the office I could feel his eyes on my ass. His eyes were a deep blue, the kind of blue any woman could get lost in. I had finally convinced my dad to put an ad out to hire another mechanic for the shop, preferably one that had knowledge of both cars and motorcycles. My dad wasn't as young as he used to be, he's pushing near 60 and still bending over backwards to fix cars. Over the last year or so we've had to turn away several people because my dad didn't work on motorcycles. He was a bike enthusiast and even taught me to ride after I turned 16 and got my driver's license.
Much to my dad's protest about the ad being put out we had about 30 people apply for the job. We agreed that these interviews would be a two-part process. My dad would do part one which would consist of properly diagnosing a problem and fixing it with one hundred percent accuracy, ensuring that the check engine light was reset and did not come back on either with the same code or another one. So far only four guys out of the 29 we've interviewed have passed. Our final applicant was sitting in a chair just outside my office door waiting for my dad to come and get him.
Part two of the interview process dealt with taking care of all of the office duties in my absence. I had a full-time job working for a law firm so I was only able to come into the shop and help my dad out one or two days a week. My dad has had me running his office since I turned 18 and in the last almost fifteen years not a single piece of paper has ever been misplaced. Some may call it OCD but whoever we decide to hire has to learn my filing system, they have to learn where all the bills to be paid go, they have to know how much cash is actually kept in the draw, and above all they have to know that Merle Dixon is a sneaky motherfucker who's always looking to make a quick buck. Give that man a list of parts and he'll go out to the junkyard and be back in less than two hours. Of course he'd use the money to buy his next round of drugs but there wasn't anything illegal about paying the guy to get what we needed, especially when I couldn't tell one part from another and my dad was busy ripping the engine block apart.
I watched from behind the glass as my dad appeared from the garage, wiping his hands off on his grease-stained rag, shaking the hand of our final applicant. The two disappeared into the garage and I went back to filling out the parts form for a 1997 Chevy Trailblazer that had its transmission fall out in the middle of the highway a few days ago. Despite my dad telling the owner that it wasn't worth the time or money it was going to cost to put a new one in, the owner insisted that the truck needed to be fixed; that it was their only means of transportation and they'd be taking out a loan to pay for the repairs.
The bell above the door distracted me from working on another set of forms and the voice of Merle Dixon sounding out had me realizing that until he was gone, getting any more work done would be impossible. The man looked like he just got out of jail again and looking for a quick dollar. Then again, he always looked that way the day after he went on a bender so really there was no telling what his visit today was for.
"Hey girly! How's about a hug for ole Merle, huh?"
"You remember what happened the last time 'ole Merle' asked for a hug, right? You try to cop a feel on me again it'll take more than a pair of cops to keep my dad from shooting you dead right here."
"I was just being friendly that's all! There was no need to get your daddy involved."
"What do you want? Need to make another dollar?"
"Nah, just wanted to find out if my baby brother ever came by for that job ya'll posted in the paper."
"You hoping your brother gets the job so you can steal from him and not have to come to me anymore for small jobs?"
"You really ought to quit teasing me, girly; you're gonna make ole Merle start to love ya."
"What's your brother's name? Only thing I'll be able to tell you is when he came in, anything beyond that you'll have to ask him yourself."
"Daryl."
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Well, this should be interesting.
Merle whipped around at the sound of the voice, exclaiming "baby brother!" in excitement; his arms held wide as if asking for a hug but the younger man shrunk away, confusion and disgust plastered across his features.
"You two know each other?" my dad asked, looking between the two.
"Billy, that there's my little brother Daryl. I was just dropping by to see if he man'd up and came in or if he pussy'd out like he done on all the other jobs I tried to get him."
"Well guys, it's getting late. Dad and I have to lock the shop up in here a few minutes. Merle, get your nosey ass out. You wanted to know if he came in and you have your answer. Daryl, my dad will let me know how you did; if everything checks out you can expect a call from me sometime after 10 o'clock tomorrow morning."
I shooed the two of them out the door as they started bickering, their voices steadily rising until they were nearly shouting over each other. Locking the front door, I watched as Merle climbed onto his bike, turning in the loose gravel and heading back down the road he came up. Daryl stood at the back of his truck for a few minutes, fishing a cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it up. The smoke ring disappeared as he brought his head to rest down into the heel of his hand.
"How'd he do?" I asked, lowering the blinds on the front door and switching the 'open' sign off.
"Out of the other four who've pass the test, he's the best I've seen. He doesn't have any kind of degree from a tech school but he's damn good at figuring out a problem. Now that I know he's Merle Dixon's little brother I am more than hesitant to move him forward onto your round of testing."
"Dad, just because he's Merle's little brother doesn't mean he's gonna go around acting like his brother. Yes the name Dixon is synonymous with drinking, drugs, and a slew of other things but maybe this Dixon is different. I'm still gonna phone in for a full background check in the morning but I have a pretty good feeling about this one. I think that if we hire him, give him all the tools he needs to actually get certified as a licensed mechanic that virtually nothing can stop him. You could take him on as an apprentice while he's in school."
"Do the background check in the morning and then we'll talk. You finish up the books for tonight and I'll get the shop cleaned up, then we'll leave. Your mom is making meatloaf if you wanna come over for dinner."
I declined as I headed back to my office, I had leftover chili in the fridge.
Under normal circumstances my dad would wait until I could get my car started before taking off toward home, but tonight he was in a bit of a rush. He had been expecting a new tree stand to be delivered at the house earlier in the day and he was more than excited to go home and put his new toy together. Lately I've been having trouble getting the car started and tonight was no exception. My dad was already half way down the road and my car was still refusing to turn over. The only comfort I had was that the car was already here so all I would need to do is tape a sign someplace obvious letting my dad know it wouldn't start.
How I was getting home and to work the next day were beyond me. I always kept extra clothes in the car for when it got cold out so why didn't I ever keep my tennis shoes in there too? I guess a ten mile walk home in sandals was in store for tonight; at least I was getting my exercise in.
Sliding the note under the wiper and placing my car key on the hook inside my office, I locked the shop up once more, double checking that I had my pepper spray on me. It wasn't going to be much help but it was better than nothing. I had just made it to the first major intersection, waiting for the crosswalk to change from a red hand to a person when a horn sounded off to my left. I ignored it, thinking it was some John looking to pick up a hooker a little ways down the street. Once I had the right of way signal to cross, I made a mad dash across the road since there were cars trying to get into the intersection as well. My favorite watering hole was just a few blocks ahead and as much as I needed a drink right now, I resisted temptation knowing that the money I would spend there was better put towards whatever I needed to get the car up and running again.
As I passed by the bar, I spotted Merle's bike parked out front; definitely not going in there tonight. I almost felt bad for the poor girl he's about take home and fuck; he was gonna rob her blind before she even knew what hit her.
The horn I heard earlier sounded again as I started walking across the parking lot entrance of the bar. Pulling my pepper spray from my pocket, I stopped in my tracks and peered over my shoulder to see a dark colored truck pull up next to me; the windows were still rolled up and the identity of the driver remained a mystery. It sat idling for a moment before the window slowly started coming down, a head of dark hair barely visible as the inside of the truck poured out smoke.
"Get in, I'll take ya home."
"I can walk, my feet work just fine. Thanks for the offer though, Daryl."
"Ain't safe for anyone to be out this late by themselves."
"Daryl-"
I was cut off at the sight of flashing blue lights and a single siren going off. How the fuck does this shit even happen? I practically work two jobs, how the hell does this get misinterpreted as someone picking up a prostitute? The car was twice occupied, the driver going up to the truck and the passenger waving me back further onto the sidewalk.
"Ma'am do you know you're being stopped this evening?"
Why do they always ask the obvious question? Not everyone is guilty of a crime.
"No…"
"Do you know him?"
"I know his name is Daryl, he applied for a job at my dad's shop, and he was offering me a ride home."
"You're not out here working, are you?"
"The fuck is wrong with you? You think every woman walking down the street is a fucking whore? My car wouldn't start and I live about nine miles down the road. If Daryl hadn't stopped to offer me a ride I'd still be walking and my feet would be bleeding."
Just as I had finished defending myself a commotion coming from the bar caught everyone's attention. Some guy went flying backwards and there was Merle coming out through the front door like a bull seeing red. The cops quickly forgot about the two of us and I climbed into the truck, slamming the door shut as Daryl put the car back in gear, taking off down the road.
"Thanks for the lift."
I watched cautiously from the corner of my eye as I rolled the window up, unsure of what Daryl was going to do with his right hand as it remained in the middle of the seat.
He grunted a bit and I couldn't help but flinch a little as he raised it off the seat, grasping the steering wheel as he retrieved the cigarette from his mouth in his left. The silence was stifling, the air conditioning was doing very little to create enough noise to distract my mind from thinking that I had just accepted a ride from a Dixon and I knew absolutely nothing about him aside from the fact that he was Merle's brother. His family's reputation was well known around town and even if he hasn't done anything wrong, he was still seen as guilty by association.
"You can let me out here, I don't live that much farther."
"Ain't gonna let ya walk home the rest of the way. Just gimme the address and I'll drop you off."
Glancing over, it became apparent that he was taking my silence for mistrust. Pulling the truck over under a street lamp, he put it into park before turning to face me. Cautiously I reached next to me to grab the door handle should I need to quickly jump out, in the other hand I kept my can of pepper spray at the ready.
"Merle's my brother and our name is Dixon, but that don't mean I gotta act like douchebag like the rest of 'em. Heard what ya told your dad in the shop, about me maybe being different than the rest of 'em. I ain't my brother, I ain't gonna try and do nothing to ya. It ain't breaking the law offering someone a ride when their car breaks down. I ain't gonna go around stalking ya if ya tell me where you live, ain't gonna let Merle bother ya either. You don't have to tell nobody that I gave ya a ride home."
"How'd you know I'd be needing a ride home tonight?"
"I didn't, but something just told me not to go too far tonight. Merle tried to get me to go to the bar with him tonight; you saw how well that went. You ain't got no reason to be scared of me, I don't put my hands on women; I ain't my brother and I sure as fuck ain't my old man."
"Go down about two blocks, my complex is the last one on the right."
Daryl nodded, putting the car back in drive and pulling away from the curb. A few minutes later, the truck pulled into the crowded parking lot of the building I lived in, backing up into an empty space as he waited for me to climb out so he could go home as well. Just as I was about to slam the door shut I had a thought strike me out of nowhere.
"Do you wanna come upstairs and have dinner? It's not charity or any bullshit like that. Just a thank you for the ride home. You look like you haven't eaten in a while."
"Nah, I'm good. I ain't got nothing better to do in the mornings, if you want I can give you a ride to work."
"I don't work at the shop, I'm only there on Thursdays and Fridays to do the paperwork."
"That's fine, what time do you need me to be here?"
"The ass of crack of dawn? I'm up at 6 and I have to be out the door by 6:45. If it's too early for you, I can always use my phone a friend. He owes me after I got a few parts for his car on discount."
Before Daryl could answer he reached into his pocket, pulling his phone out; the look on his face changed from indifference to anger. Knowing that Merle started another fight earlier, it was probably him on the phone asking for bail money. It was none of my business how their conversation went so I slammed the door of the truck shut and walked towards my building, mentally preparing myself for the three flights of stairs it took to get to my apartment. My friends and I jokingly called it the Stairmaster. It really did give you a good workout, especially when I tried to carry groceries inside.
Once I got the mail out of my mailbox, I begrudgingly made my way up the stairs. My feet were still sore from walking that first mile and a half, then again it was my own fucking fault for wearing sandals instead of tennis shoes. Pulling my keys from my pocket, I double-checked to make sure no one had followed me up the stairs. Chalk it up to paranoia and having lived on my own the last 3 years with a few incidents, I've learned to start taking in my surroundings a little more closely. The second to last stair of the second flight has a tendency to creak under any type of pressure; upon hearing it I quickly rushed inside, slamming the door shut behind me and throwing the chain in place as I dashed to the kitchen to pull a knife from the block on the counter.
A quiet knock on the door caused me to jump at least half a foot in the air. I did my best to approach the door with silent footfalls, completely unsure of who would be bothering me at 8 o'clock at night. Hell no one ever comes over here unless they want something. My attempt at being quiet though failed as my foot wound up getting caught in the jacket I had dropped on the floor the other day causing me to trip and fall face first into the door; my dumbass also dropped the knife as I was propelled forward, the tip embedding itself on the top of my foot.
I know, I'm so graceful!
The once quiet knocks turned to frantic fists pounding at my door, the hinges rattling inside the doorframe.
"Hold your fucking horses!"
Getting up from the floor, I hobbled the few steps it took to get to the door, the knife still in my foot. Peering through the peephole, I sighed and placed my head against the door. I was probably just being stupid for thinking that Daryl was capable of keeping up the bad boy attitude that his brother was infamous for; stupid for thinking that he was probably feeding me some line saying that he may be a Dixon but he wasn't his father. But you know what they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
"You come for dinner or did I forget something in the truck?"
The door was only partially opened, the chain remained in place until he either left or decided he was hungry enough to wanna come inside.
He chewed on his thumb for a few seconds, then started nibbling on the interior of his lip. Daryl never did look at me but my best guess would be because when he was a kid his father would beat him just for looking at him. It was no secret that their father beat the holy hell out of his boys and it was no secret that they were more than delighted when he finally kicked the bucket but the damage had been done. Daryl was about 10 years old than me and pretty much kept to himself. Before tonight I had only seen him in the grocery store once or twice and neither of us had spoken a word to each other.
"Both." His response was so jumbled that I had to ask him to repeat himself.
Shutting the door in his face for a brief second, I unchained the door and invited him in, requesting that he at least take his boots off before stepping further inside.
"Heard ya howling, what the hell happened?"
Rather than answer, I pointed down to my foot in embarrassment saying that I was going to the bathroom to pull it out. However Daryl did something that was beyond unexpected: he followed me into the bathroom and offered to help wrap my foot up.
"How the fuck did ya manage that one?"
"Heard someone coming up the stairs; thought that you had already gone home and someone followed me inside after you left. It wouldn't have been the first time it happened. Heard the knocking on the door and I panicked; grabbed a knife and in a moment of graceful movement, tripped over my own fucking jacket, smacked my head against the door, and the knife landed in my foot. You can go ahead and laugh if you want, wouldn't be the first time I've done something this stupid before."
As Daryl pulled the tip of the knife from my foot, a calm seemed to have passed over him; like he was in his element or something. His fingers were working quick to assess if any major damage had been done, although I don't think I was capable of pulling off such a feat even if I tried. Despite his rough appearance though, his hands on my foot were more than gentle, carefully holding it steady as the other ran a soapy washcloth over the top to clean the blood off.
For a moment I became enthralled with what he was doing; no one except my mom had ever done anything like this for me. I didn't mean to be staring as he fixed the hole in foot but I'm sure he was more than aware that I was watching him. He paused for a second, glancing up at me and in that second I had never seen eyes as blue as his. Eyes that held so much emotion, so much pain; and I knew I wanted to know more of what laid behind those eyes.
The sun was already starting to set by the time I made it back to The Hilltop. It was about a six mile ride from the Sanctuary, however I had to make it look like that I was keeping up the bargain that I struck with Negan. The only people who were going to know that I planned on playing both sides of the fence were Daryl and Jesus. Daryl needed to know that he was wanted and Jesus was just about the only person I could trust to keep Daryl hidden from the Saviors while I was out "searching."
Jesus greeted me at the gate as I rode in, the doors closing behind me as a small group gathered round, shocked that I was even back in one piece.
"He's not here."
"Where is he? He needs to know-"
"I can't tell you where he is. Trust me, he knows that the Saviors are after him."
"Does he know Negan wants me to hunt him down? Does he know-"
"He knows, trust me he knows. He knew Negan took you without having to be there to see it; even if he was still in the cells he said he knew you were close."
"Paul, where's Daryl?"
"You already know where he is, so why ask me?"
"I need to hear it from you. I need to know that he's someplace safer than here."
"We took him to The Kingdom right after you got taken. Ezekiel has walls that'll keep him safe and even if the Saviors got past the walls they'd have to get past Shiva. How did you get those?"
"Made up some bullshit rule about how having his things would help me learn more about the man. He looked naked without his bow so I was really only trying to get that back; I think he'll be happy to be getting his bike back too. I'm gonna go see if I can't get the smell of Saviors out these clothes though. That scrawny ass bitch with the burn on his face was wearing 'em."
A shudder ran down my spine as the image of Dwight wearing Daryl's clothes crept into my brain.
"So what's your plan? Are you gonna bring him back?"
"I'll tell you about it when we get to the Kingdom."
Hi all, hope everyone had a fantastic weekend and enjoyed last night's episode. For those who have not had a chance to watch it yet, I will refrain from possibly giving away any spoilers. Despite being as sick as I was last week I am more than relieved that there no grammar or continuity issues that arose. Even though this story is still in its infancy, those mistakes can still occur and I don't like making fatal errors that could disrupt the entire story. Also, I apologize in advanced if backstory and character history are not your cup of tea however it's a very critical component to this story. If you like what you're reading please drop a line (or a few) in the box below as well as follow/favorite.