Fighting to Be Free
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Synopsis
Jamie Cole has just been released from juvenile detention. Determined to go straight, he tries to cut ties with crime boss Brett Reyes - but Brett has no intention of letting him go. Jamie's life is already more complicated than it needs to be, yet it's when he meets a beautiful stranger at a bar that Jamie knows he's really in over his head.
Ellie Pearce has just come out of a terrible relationship and isn't looking for anything serious . . . until she meets Jamie. Their attraction is overwhelming and intense - she can't seem to shake her growing feelings for him, even though she's trying to keep it casual.
But when fate goes horribly wrong and Jamie's family is faced with ruin, he's forced to strike a deal with Brett. Despite his struggles, he wants nothing more than a future with Ellie. That's until Ellie finds out that he's been hiding more from her than she could ever imagine . . .
This is a sweet and sexy romance with a big heart by the bestselling author of The Boy Who Sneaks Through My Bedroom Window.
Release date: September 6, 2016
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Print pages: 400
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Fighting to Be Free
Kirsty Moseley
Taking a deep breath, I stepped tentatively over the threshold, leaving the place I vowed I would never return to. I was free; finally, after serving just over four years in juvie, I was free to start over. Stuffed deep in my pocket, so it wouldn’t get lost, I had just under two thousand dollars—my wages for working kitchen duties while I carried out my sentence. Nestled next to it was the address of the rooming house that my parole officer had arranged for me to stay at, some sort of shitty convict rehabilitation accommodation block by my understanding.
As the door slammed shut behind me, panic set in for a second because I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to be free. But that was when I saw it. Outside. Not the exercise yard, which was the only “outside” I usually got to see, but freedom. The January sun was shining, there were no walls with barbed wire on the top, just a clear, open view of a road and a yellow cab parked a hundred yards away, obviously waiting to pick me up and take me to my new place. Nervous excitement built in my stomach.
I shouldered my bag, which contained the only possessions I had to my name: a few sets of clothes and one photograph of my little sister, Sophie. As I took the first few steps away from the gates, my heart was beating out of my chest; it felt weird to be walking away from the place I’d considered home for the last few years. I was waiting for the alarms to sound and someone to tackle me to the ground and start smashing me with a baton. They didn’t. I walked quickly toward the waiting cab. I didn’t look back; I’d never look back. This was my fresh start. This place had saved me, and I was hoping that it had changed my life and had at least given me a fighting chance. I didn’t want to go back to the life I’d led before all this happened; I couldn’t live like that any longer. I was determined to change.
“Hey, Kid!” someone shouted just as I pulled the cab door open.
I turned around, and my heart dropped down to my feet as I spotted a familiar figure just getting out of a shiny black Mercedes that was parked across the road and down a little way.
“Ed?” I hadn’t seen this guy since I was sent down, and I didn’t want to see him now.
Ed jogged over and pulled me into a hug, slapping my back enthusiastically. “Good to see you again,” he greeted me happily.
Ed looked no different than I remembered; he was still a smarmy, overdressed jackass. “What are you doing here?” I asked, flicking my eyes around nervously. I didn’t even want to be seen talking to guys like this again.
“Boss wants to see you.” Ed nodded toward the car about thirty feet away from the cab that I was so desperately trying to get into.
“I can’t right now, I need to go get checked into my new place,” I rejected, trying to think of a better excuse. But I knew it was useless; if Brett Reyes wanted to see me, he’d see me conscious or unconscious.
Ed smiled. “Boss wants to see you now, Kid. You can check into your place later.” He turned and walked off toward his car without looking back.
A scowl slipped onto my face. I hated being called Kid. They had all called me that when I worked for Brett. I guess it was because when I started working for him, that’s what I was. I was eleven years old the first time I did a job for him—dropping a manila envelope full of cash through the window of a parked cop patrol car. Bribe money. The cops turned a blind eye to his activities, and in return they got a nice little payout. Perfect.
I closed my eyes and sighed dejectedly before leaning into the cab and smiling apologetically at the driver. “Sorry, I won’t be needing you.” I didn’t wait for an answer, just slammed the door and followed behind Ed, climbing into the passenger side of the Mercedes.
I felt sick. There was no way out of this. I probably wasn’t going to survive the rest of the day. So much for the fresh start I wanted. I wasn’t even going to see the sun set. To say that my life sucked right now would be the understatement of the century.
Resting my head back against the expensive leather, I looked out the window, watching the streets change and turn more urban as we headed deeper into New York City and toward, I assumed, Queens, where Brett usually conducted his business. I sighed inwardly and wondered why I’d dared to hope that things could be different. There was no way Brett would let me live, I knew too much about him. The things I knew could put him away for years, but I would never tell. I’d been offered a deal so many times when I was going down: reduced sentence, a high-class juvie instead of the craphole I was sent to, even a cushy little job when I was inside. But I never once considered turning state’s evidence and standing against him, never.
* * *
About forty minutes later, we pulled up to the warehouse that I had spent so much time in as an adolescent. The place hadn’t changed at all. My stomach clenched as I thought about what was probably going to happen to me inside. I just prayed that it would be quick and painless. Brett surely respected me that much, at least.
“Come on then, Kid, let’s go,” Ed urged, climbing out of the car.
The sounds of the angle grinders and welders from the warehouse chop shop were like familiar music to my ears. I’d spent way too many hours of my childhood here, learning how to remove serial and chassis numbers so that we could sell the cars that I stole to order. I was the best car thief in Brett’s organization. People placed their orders, Brett found the cars, and I stole them. Easy. I’d never even come close to being caught. We didn’t steal any old car, though; they had to be top end. We didn’t take anything worth less than a hundred thousand.
“Hey, Kid. Long time no see!” someone called.
I glanced over to see Ray lifting his welding mask from his face. He was the one who’d taught me everything I knew about cars. I walked over and gave him an awkward hug while he patted my back affectionately.
“Hey, Ray. How’s it going?” I asked, discreetly eyeing the silver Porsche 911 on the ramp.
“Things are great. I have a daughter,” he answered proudly, pulling off one of his thick leather gloves and running a hand through his sweaty brown hair.
“No shit, really? Congrats!”
“Thanks. We called her Tia. She’s two,” he gushed, grinning.
I slapped him on the shoulder; he’d always taken care of me, and would make an excellent father. “That’s awesome, man, nice.” Ray deserved to be happy. He was one of the best people I knew.
“Thanks. How you been?” His eyes drifted over me slowly, probably checking for any cuts or bruises.
I shrugged. “I’m good. I’m about to go see Brett. I’ll talk to you later; maybe we could grab a drink or something?” Now that I was trying to go straight, I wanted nothing to do with anyone in this world anymore, but Ray was the exception. I thought of him as a big brother, and would love to keep in touch with him. Well, if I survived the next few minutes, which was highly doubtful.
“Absolutely. Here, I’ll give you my number. Call me and we’ll sort something out. You have a place to stay? You could come and stay with me and Samantha, she won’t mind. You can meet Tia,” he offered, already scribbling his number onto a scrap of paper and holding it out to me.
I stuffed the number in my pocket as I spoke, “It’s okay, I’ve got a place. But thanks anyway.”
“Kid, come on, you know Boss doesn’t like to wait!” Ed called behind me.
Sighing deeply, I gave Ray another man hug before following Ed. I felt like I was taking the long walk to my death.
I thought about my life as I climbed the stairs. My eighteen short years of life. Wasted. A pile of shit. What was the point in even bothering? To be honest, for about fifteen of them I’d wished I was dead anyway, so maybe this outcome wasn’t too bad after all. At least this way I wouldn’t have to try to change. Changing would be hard, probably the hardest thing I would ever have to do. Maybe I should be grateful that I was about to bite it.
I stopped outside the office door, waiting as Ed knocked.
“Come in!” Brett shouted through the door. The sound of his deep, husky voice made my shoulders stiffen.
Ed smiled and twisted the handle. “See you after, Kid. We’ll catch up,” he said, opening the door and slapping me on the shoulder.
“Sure, Ed, whatever,” I replied dismissively, rolling my eyes. Why he was bothering to act like he didn’t know what was coming was beyond me.
Holding my breath, I forced myself to remain calm. My eyes swept the large office; it was still done up exceptionally, just like I remembered. Brett’s overly large antique oak desk still had pride of place in the center of the room. There were expensive vases and statues behind him, and even the houseplant on his desk looked exotic. Brett Reyes liked the best, he always had.
Brett stood up from behind his desk, smiling warmly at me in his expensive gray tailored suit. “Hey, Kid! Good to see you,” he said, coming around the desk and engulfing me in a hug.
“Yeah, you too,” I lied, trying to control the slight tremor in my voice. I knew how this was going to end; I just prayed he liked me enough to do it quickly. A nice shot to the face, or, even better, the back of the head so I wouldn’t see it coming.
Brett pulled back and smiled at me, his blue eyes soft and friendly. He’d aged considerably in my absence. His forehead was lined with wrinkles, and his dirty-blond hair had receded. Although he’d aged quite a bit since I last saw him, he still didn’t look as old as he was. He was easily in his midfifties, but people often thought he was early forties.
“So, how was it?” he asked, gripping my shoulders as he waited for my answer.
“It was okay.” Glancing around, I saw two guys sitting on the sofa off to the side. The older, dark haired one I didn’t know, the other was a guy I knew from juvie. Shaun. He was a real nasty piece of work, and I’d seen him make many peoples’ lives a misery in the year that we were inside together. I myself had had a fair few run-ins with him, the last of which had ended when I’d smashed his face into a table not long before he was released. I held in my groan. “Hey, Shaun,” I greeted him stiffly.
Brett snickered and slapped me on the shoulder as he strutted back around to his side of the desk. “Yeah, I heard you two had some problems inside,” he mused, still chuckling. “Maybe you should kiss and make up.”
I snorted. “He can kiss my fucking ass if he wants,” I retorted, looking at Shaun warningly as he glared at me and stood.
“You little shit…I swear to God, I’ll—” he started, but Brett held up a hand, silencing him.
“Enough! I won’t have you two fighting. Shaun, you’ve been here for the last three years, so I’ve seen how you operate, but trust me, you don’t want to be having a problem with the kid,” he warned.
I clenched my jaw. I didn’t want to get into a fight, but I knew I could defend myself if I needed to. I’d always been proficient at taking care of myself—probably because I’d learned how to block out pain. Of course, I still felt it, but I just didn’t care. Pain made you strong; it meant you were still alive. Pain could be your friend when you thought you were dead inside.
I smiled a challenge at Shaun, daring him to go against Brett’s orders. He sneered at me but sat back down, so I turned my attention to Brett.
“So then, Kid, I’ve set up an apartment for you. I thought you’d like a few days off to get settled, and then come back to work Friday night,” Brett said, rummaging through the top drawer of his desk. He pulled out a set of keys and tossed it to me. “Here, it’s a two-bedroom. We’ll sort out rent and stuff later.”
I set the keys on the desk and shook my head. “Brett, thank you for going to all this trouble for me, but I can’t. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m going straight from here on out.”
He visibly recoiled at my words. “Kid, I need you here. No one can boost like you.” The throbbing muscle in his jaw told me he was growing angry.
“I’m sorry, Brett, I am. But I just don’t have the motivation that I used to. I’m not doing this type of shit anymore,” I replied sternly. I’d made up my mind: Either I went straight, or he would have to kill me. I didn’t need this anymore; the reasons I’d had to do it had died the day I became a murderer. Everything changed on that day: my outlook, my priorities, everything.
His fist slammed down on the desk, making his plant shake from the blow and a pot of pens tip over, scattering across his desk. “You think you can just walk away? For more than three years I looked after you and showed you my business! Three years I spent training you, and you think you can just walk away? You can’t!” he ranted, his loud voice echoing off the walls.
“Brett, I want out of this life. I just want to go straight. I won’t do it, I’m sorry.” I shook my head and looked him right in the eye, showing him I wasn’t going to back down.
He sighed, the muscle in his jaw clenched again, and then he nodded to the two guys behind me. I closed my eyes, waiting to die. In unison, they grabbed my arms, pulling them behind my back as I was slammed face-first into the desk. Someone’s arm went across the back of my neck, pressing down, making it difficult to breathe.
I didn’t open my eyes when something hard pushed against my temple. As the safety was clicked off, I waited for my life to flash before my eyes, or the epiphany you were supposed to see before you died, but I didn’t see anything as the gun pressed harder into my skin, causing my jaw to ache.
“Kid, you know the rules. If you want out, you earn it. You still owe me for all the time I invested in you,” Brett growled angrily.
I forced my eyes open and saw that he was the one holding the gun as he leaned over the desk, glaring at me. I didn’t bother struggling; I was dead either way, there was no way I was getting out of here.
“Just kill me if you have to, because I’m not doing it,” I said, awkwardly shaking my head.
“I don’t want to kill you, Kid. You’re amazing at what you do. The best I’ve seen. It’d be a waste,” Brett said, looking at me hopefully.
The arm across my neck pushed down harder, making me groan as I struggled to draw breath. “No!” I choked out.
Brett growled in frustration. “I need you to do a job. It’s five cars, one night. One job, then you’re out.”
Just one job? But would it actually stop at one? The thrill of boosting cars was like some sort of addictive high. If I started again, would I be able to stop? I wasn’t convinced I would.
“Can’t do it,” I said ignoring the metallic tang of my own blood as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I knew what was coming, and it wasn’t going to be painless.
But instead of delivering the slow, brutal death I was envisioning, the gun was withdrawn and Brett stepped back. “You should think of your mother, Kid. She’s so screwed up. Having her daughter murdered like that, then her son getting sent down. She kind of went off the rails. I’ve been looking after her for you. It’d be a shame if something awful happened to her after all she’s been through already.” He shrugged casually as if we were talking about the weather.
The son of a bitch is threatening my mom? I thrashed, managing to get one of my arms free so I could push myself up, but before my attempt could accomplish anything, I was slammed back down on the table roughly.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” I shouted acidly.
Brett chuckled. “Kid, I like her, honestly. I don’t want to have to hurt her. One job and I’ll leave your mother alone,” he bartered.
I squeezed my eyes shut. As much as I hated my mom, she was still my mother at the end of the day and I didn’t want her hurt, especially not the type of hurt I’d seen Brett inflict on so many other people.
Awkwardly, I nodded in agreement. Air rushed back into my lungs as I was yanked up to standing by the back of my shirt. Shaun smiled wickedly at me as he patted the top of my head. “There’s a good boy,” he teased condescendingly. I gritted my teeth, trying not to react.
Brett clapped his hands, rubbing his palms together excitedly. “Great! The job is in three days. Here, take this cell and I’ll call you with the details, I had it all set up for you. And take the apartment, too.” He slid a cell phone and the apartment keys across the desk.
I grabbed the phone and shoved it deep into my jeans pocket. “I’ve got a place. One job is what we’ve agreed to, so I don’t need the apartment. Thanks anyway,” I said, trying to be polite even though I actually wanted to maim him.
“Okay, Kid. Whatever you want.”
I turned to leave but caught sight of Shaun arrogantly smirking at me. Before I could stop myself, I raised my arm and threw a punch into his face. The satisfying crack of his nose made me smile as blood instantly spurted from his nostrils. He yelped, shocked, his hand shooting up to his nose to staunch the flow.
“Don’t ever touch me again. There’s a good boy,” I growled angrily, using his words. I turned and strutted out the door, ignoring Brett roaring with laughter behind me.
Chapter 2
This is it,” the cabdriver announced, cautiously locking his door with his elbow as he stopped outside a filthy-looking, dilapidated apartment block.
Trying not to turn my nose up at the place the state had arranged for me to stay upon my release, I handed him the requested money and stepped out. Instantly, the sweet aroma of burning weed assaulted my nose from where several people milled around outside smoking joints in broad daylight. The cab sped away almost as soon as my door closed, leaving me standing there among the scummy-looking people, who were all looking at me like they wanted to beat and rape me to within an inch of my life.
As I made my way up the sidewalk toward the front of the building, a barely legal girl stepped forward and set her hand on my chest. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was wild, and she looked like she hadn’t washed or changed her almost nonexistent clothes in about a week. “Hi there, handsome, you looking for someone?” she purred.
“No thanks,” I replied quickly, shrugging away from her hand as I continued to the front door.
Once inside, I walked toward the little reception desk, my feet sticking to the cracked tile floor with each step. I had to laugh when I realized that the guy was sitting behind chunky thick bars with what looked like bulletproof glass behind them. He even had a handgun sitting on the side of his desk.
He sneered distastefully as I approached. “Yeah?” he grunted, muting the TV show he was watching.
“Hey. I’m Jamie Cole. I was told I had a room here.”
“Cole? Let me see…” He shifted in his chair, causing it to squeak from the pressure, and shuffled through some papers.
I turned subtly so that I could see up the hallway, making sure no one was sneaking up on me from behind. I’d gotten pretty adept at staying out of trouble. As long as you saw it coming, you could either face it head-on or walk the other way.
“Yeah, here you are.” He ticked my name off some sort of list, then sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand as he pushed himself up from his swivel chair and padded over to a little cabinet mounted on the wall. He pulled down a set of keys and waddled back to me, plopping down heavily. Everything looked like too much effort for him. The guy was carrying about fifty pounds of sheer fat around the middle, so no wonder life seemed taxing.
He threw a couple of forms and a pen into a little metal drawer and shoved it hard so that the drawer popped out on my side of his protective bubble. “Sign on the bottom and it’s all yours,” he instructed as I retrieved the registration forms from the drawer.
I scribbled my name and passed the papers back to him.
Barely glancing at my forms, he tossed them to the side. “Okay, so there aren’t very many rules here. Just try and stay out of trouble. Make sure you lock your door, even when you’re in the room. Take anything valuable out with you, or lock it in one of the safes here inside the office,” he advised, waving his chubby hand at the row of little safes built into the wall. I nodded, and he continued, “You have a front door key. The door gets locked at ten p.m.; after that you’ll have to let yourself in. Your room is 234.” He shoved the drawer back through to me.
I grabbed the set of keys from the bottom and shifted my bag on my shoulder.
“Second floor, turn left at the top, and good luck.” He smirked, and I silently noted the amusement in his tone.
“Right,” I mumbled. On the way to my room I avoided touching the railings and walls, covered in years of grime and dirt. If Brett didn’t kill me, then I’d probably die from some incurable infection I’d catch from this place; I could practically taste the germs with every breath.
I found my room easily, unlocking the door and shoving it open. The room was bare save for a couple of bits of furniture; on the upside, the mattress looked clean, and the sheets piled at the end looked new, so at least I wouldn’t have to sleep in other people’s filth.
In the corner, next to a door, was a little sink; I headed over to the door and opened it to find a toilet and the tiniest shower stall I’d ever seen. I could kill two birds with one stone, and shower while I’m taking a leak. Now that’s a time saver! I snorted before outright laughing at my predicament. The place was so awful that I kind of wished I were back in juvie; at least it was clean and familiar there.
Dropping my bag, I flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling. All I could hear was shouting and fighting from outside, and people banging around in the room next door. I closed my eyes and thought everything through. I needed to get a job, and I needed to get a car, and then I could get the hell out of this place. One job for Brett would make my mom safe; after that I could move on like I’d planned.
When the sounds of girlie moaning and headboard banging started in the room next to mine, I pushed myself up and decided that I might as well go and start the job hunt now.
I left the rooming house in quite high spirits and headed to the nearest stores, starting to ask around for a job. A couple of people seemed interested, right up until I told them where I was staying, and then they backed off right away. It was obviously common knowledge what kind of people lived at that place—scum of the earth, murdering losers, just like me. By the third place I asked, I was lying and telling people I was in the process of moving. But I still didn’t manage to swing an interview.
A little way out of the neighborhood, a junkyard caught my attention. I decided to try to fulfill my second task—getting a car.
I headed toward the little white office trailer, but a guy stopped me on my way there. “Hey, what you looking for?” he asked politely, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. He was wearing oil-stained gray overalls and had a Yankees baseball cap covering his black hair; he was probably not much older than me.
“Oh, hi. Uh…I’m not sure. Do you have any cars that need work to get them running? Ones that you want to get rid of cheap?” I inquired.
A smile crept over his lips. “You know about cars?”
“Yeah. A thing or two,” I answered. There wasn’t much I didn’t know about cars, actually.
“Okay, well, I’ll show you what we’ve got. None of them run, though.” He shrugged and walked off behind the trailer. I followed behind, barely able to contain my excitement. I hadn’t had my hands on a car engine for what felt like forever.
Around the back of the office, he stopped. “These are the ones we use for parts; the others we crush. They’re okay, except they don’t run. None of them are complete now, though. You could make a car out of the parts of the other ones and what we have around the yard,” he stated, nodding to about ten beat-up, scratched, and rusted cars parked there.
“Can I have a look?” I asked, heading over to the first in the row. I instantly dismissed it because the chassis was rusted to hell. I hated welding. After looking at a couple, I settled on a pickup that had probably started its life as dark green. It had no wheels and no bumper, but those were probably lying around here somewhere. “This looks good. Can I turn it over?”
He grinned and nodded, obviously thinking I was crazy as I jumped behind the wheel excitedly.
The keys were already in it, so I pumped the gas as I turned the engine over, hearing the whine and slight ticking noise. It was perfect. It sounded like the problem was with the alternator, easy enough to fix if I could find the parts in the yard somewhere. I popped the hood and jumped out to look at the engine. As I clipped the hood above my head, I smiled. It didn’t look too bad at all; it just required a little cleanup and a few new parts. All she needed was some love and care. I shoved my hand down the side and pulled out the alternator cable. “You have a rag I could borrow?”
The guy’s smirk grew wider as he threw me the rag he’d been wiping his hands on. I cleaned up the cable and plucked a stone from the ground, scratching the inside of the head slightly to give some friction before putting it back.
“Can you turn it over for me?” I requested.
He burst out laughing. “Look, man, this truck’s been here for almost a year, it’s probably rusted solid. I’ve tried to get this one going, it’s not just gonna be the alternator.”
I shrugged. “Worth a shot, right? That’s just a temporary repair, I’ll have to change most of the fixings, but it should be okay.”
He rolled his eyes and climbed in, clearly not expecting anything judging by the look on his face. As he turned the key, the truck spluttered to life for a split second before cutting out. It was loud as hell, but it was perfect. The guy stepped out, his mouth agape.
“So how much you want for it? I’ll need the parts, too. New wheels and bumper. I’ll replace all of the plugs, clips, and cables as well,” I stated, taking another look into the engine.
He pursed his lips in thought. “Call it…two hundred bucks?”
I raised one eyebrow. “Two hundred is a little steep. You said yourself you can’t get it going. I’ll take it, and the parts, for one fifty,” I bartered, knowing I would pay the two hundred and it would still be cheap as anything.
He rolled his eyes. “One seventy-five?”
I nodded. “One seventy-five it is then. You think I could maybe fix it up here? I won’t be any trouble; I’ll stay out of the way, I promise. It’s just, I don’t have anywhere to do this…” That was a lie, I could easily get the truck to Brett’s warehouse, but I didn’t want to owe him anything.
“Sure, why not,” he agreed
“Awesome. I’m Jamie, by the way.” I stuck out my hand to him.
“Connor,” he replied, shaking it.
After paying for the truck, I made arrangements to come back the following day to make a start. On the way back to the hellhole that I now called home, I grabbed a sandwich from the corner store. As I headed into the building I ensured I steered clear of the drug dealer and the two prostitutes who had set up camp outside the door.
* * *
The next couple of days passed quickly. Other than a quick visit to my parole officer the day after my release, the rest of my time was mostly spent down at the junkyard; I was doing extremely well with the car. Connor was a likable guy; at twenty-one, he was fairly close to my age, as I’d guessed. His dad owned the yard, and Connor ran it for him most of the time. The day I finally finished fixing up my pickup, I was more than a little proud of myself.
Connor sauntered out of the office, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. “I can’t believe you did this. I tried with this one. I’m pretty good with cars, but this one was dead.”
I took a sip, wincing at the slight burn on my tongue. “You know, I could have a look at the others if you want. Maybe fix them up so you can sell them?” I offered. I’d been thinking about this a lot recently.
He frowned skeptically. “Yeah? And what would you get out of that?”
I shrugged. “What would you sell them for in the state that they’re in?”
His lips pursed as he thought about it. “I don’t know. Hardly anything. No one’s crazy enough to buy a car that doesn’t work. Present company excluded, of course,” he joked, laughing.
“Okay, well how about this: I fix them up, you sell them, and I get half of the profit,” I suggested.
“Half?” he repeated.
“Only half of the profit,” I clarified. “So, for example, if you buy the car for a hundred bucks and sell it for two, then I’ll get fifty. That way you’re still making more than you normally would and I get some, too. Plus, they won’t just be worth two hundred when I’m done; you’ll probably sell them for closer to four or five hundred.”
“Um…I’m not sure, Jamie. I like the idea, but I’m not sure how feasible it is. We’ve never been into selling working cars, only parts.”
“Tell you what, how about a trial run?” I looked around and pointed at the car that, in my opinion, needed the least work to get going. “It’ll take me a couple of days to get it running but if I do, how about you stick it in the auction next week a
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