Unsteady (The Torqued Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free

look at the line of cars out the door and the mound of paperwork on my toolbox, they’d see exactly what I’m talking about. It’s also not helping that I have a brother not showing up for work on time because he’s fucking out late again, or my sister riding my ass because the guys in the shop suddenly forgot how to fill out time cards.
    See? Pretty simple.
    The afternoon sun blares through the open shop doors, blinding me as it hits the top of my toolbox. Sweat trickles down my back from my black shirt attracting the sun. It’s only June and already in the nineties. I can just imagine what July and August are going to be like.
    I stare at the sheet in my hand wishing we had air conditioning in the shop. “Where’s this car at?” I ask, holding up a repair order for a Camry that’s supposed to be in my stall right now and hoping someone answers me.
    Colt, whose stall is right beside mine, gives me a blank stare, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know, man.”
    Colt and I don’t always get along. He once said to me, “You’re controlling, dictating, callous, and have expectations we can’t meet.”
    It was last week.
    And then I thought, that’s ridiculous. Absurd. But I have to agree, it’s a totally accurate assessment of who I’ve become in the last month.
    Days like this, everywhere I look I’m reminded of my father’s presence in this shop and the hard work he put in day after day to keep it running. I’m also reminded I’m doing a fairly shitty job of keeping it going.
    Every bay has a car in it. Some have been here for days as we wait for parts or whatever else we need to finish them up. I don’t know how the hell he managed to keep everything running smoothly for so long.
    Around noon, fucking noon, when his shift starts at eight, Rawley comes walking in with his guitar around his back and last nights wrinkled shirt on. “Nice of you to show up, asshole,” I mutter when he walks by me.
    I almost envy Rawley’s ability to no care.
    He squints his eyes, making them look black under his dark brows. Widening his arms, he smirks. “Hey, I showed up, didn’t I? Why you gotta take everything so serious all the time.”
    Yeah, I know, I’m an asshole. Believe me, I know this. And if I didn’t, I’d be reminded. Daily.
    “Is this a fucking joke to you?” I grab him by his arm before he can escape me. “Don’t fucking walk away from me. Everyone else can get here on time. You start at eight. Be here at eight. If you can’t handle playing in your so-called garage band and getting here on time for your shift, then don’t waste my time.”
    Rawley’s icy brown eyes scan the shop and then land on me. “Fuck you.” He rips his arm from mine. “You’re not my father.”
    I laugh, once, and keep my eyes level with his. “You didn’t listen to him either. It’s time for you to grow up. This place is falling to shit, and we need help. It’s a family business, and we’re all pulling our weight for a business our father created. I know you pulled this shit on dad, but it’s not going to work with me. You either get here on time, or you find someplace else to work.”
    Rawley shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “God forbid anybody pisses off Red . I thought you were difficult before dad died, but since then, you’ve become impossible. You think you’re the only one that has stress.”
    “What stress do you have?” I practically yell, causing all the guys to stop and stare at us. “You fucking wash cars and change oil. You don’t have anything to worry about but getting here on time. But you can’t. You show up when you want, you live at home. It’s really not that hard, is it?”
    Rawley’s certainly never been one to back down to me. He’s actually incapable of it. Growing up in the same house, he purposely used to piss me off for his own entertainment. “It’s not my fault you’re doing this shit on your own. It’s not my fault your wife died. Quit blaming everyone