After they cleaned up the mess, Shane and Karen stood at the door saying goodbye to Sheila. To everyone's surprise, the sadness had mostly faded from her face. Her expression was focused now, and she even wore a small smile.
Even the most patient woman would feel suffocated if someone spent every day putting her down, controlling her, and tearing her apart. Eddie's exit wasn't really a family falling apart. It was more like giving Sheila room to breathe again.
"We're heading out, Aunt Sheila."
"Oh, okay. Drive safe, kids."
Shane had thought about tracking down Jimmy, but in the original timeline Jimmy's stolen car got spotted by the real owner, so it was smarter to play it safe.
Before long he and Karen pulled up to a used car lot on the South Side. It wasn't much more than a chain-link fence around a flat patch of ground packed with beaters. A Rottweiler chained in the corner barked at anyone who walked past.
They'd barely stepped inside when a middle-aged white guy in a jacket and White Sox cap came straight toward them.
He stopped in front of them and looked Shane over. "You the kid Frank the deadbeat's been running his mouth about?"
Shane nodded. "That's me."
"Huh." The guy smacked his lips and reached out to pinch Shane's arm. "Not bad. Solid. Doesn't look like Frank's seed at all."
Shane didn't argue. "I hope you're right about that."
This was George, a VIP contact Shane had squeezed out of Frank with two bottles of booze. In the South Side money solved most problems, but at their age getting a car titled, insured, and all the shady paperwork squared away needed the right connections.
George tipped his cap. "Frank said you got good stuff. These days cash alone doesn't always make me go the extra mile."
"Don't worry," Shane patted the backpack on his back. "If you take care of me, I'll take care of you."
George nodded and waved at the rows of cars. "Alright, you and your girl take your time. When you find one you like, come find me in the office. Long as it's not my dog, you can drive any of these out of here."
He turned and disappeared into the shipping container that served as the office.
Shane looked at Karen. "Let's go. Pick whichever one you want."
Karen looped her arm through his and they walked between the rows. She skipped right past the big Chevy and Ford trucks and headed straight for the imports in the back.
Her eyes moved between a couple Nissans and Toyotas before landing on a clean silver 2006 Volkswagen Jetta. The paint was shiny, the lines tight. It looked sharp.
Karen walked around it once, then opened the door and slid inside to test the seat. After a minute she leaned out, smiling, and patted the steering wheel. "This one."
Shane raised an eyebrow. "A Jetta? I figured you'd want something flashier. A convertible maybe."
Karen climbed out and leaned against the door. "This one looks respectable. Like what the West Side people drive."
She winked. "You're gonna be training all those rich kids over there. I need to be able to drop you off without looking like I rolled up in a beat-up Ford or some hooker-mobile. This one's perfect."
Shane paused, then laughed and pinched her cheek. "You're already thinking that far ahead. But it's your car. If you wanted a Ferrari I'd get it for you eventually. Just give me time."
Karen leaned in and kissed him. "Then hustle, baby. I'm holding you to that Ferrari. But right now this is the one I want."
"Done."
They walked into the container office. George was reading a newspaper. He looked up when they came in. "That fast? Which one?"
"The silver Jetta."
George nodded. "Good choice. Solid car. Price ain't cheap though. With paperwork and my service fee we're looking at twelve grand. But if you brought hard goods, I'll do it for sixty-seven hundred flat."
Even discounted it was still above market, but he was handling all the gray-area stuff, so the markup made sense.
"Cash or payments? Interest gets ugly on payments." He slid a contract across the desk.
"Cash." Shane pulled out the check Fiona had already signed and filled in the amount. He set it on the desk, then reached into his backpack and pulled out a dozen black Xbox 360 Kinect sensors—bare units, no boxes.
These were the "99% new, girl-owned only" ones he'd grabbed cheap from the app back home. In America right now, especially this close to Christmas, they were hot scalper items that went for triple the price if you could even find them.
George snatched one up, checked the ports and lens, confirmed it was basically brand new, and grinned wide. He pocketed the check and the sensors, then looked at Shane with new respect. "Kid, you got connections. Frank that old bastard actually made something useful."
"If you got more of these, bring 'em here. I'll give you a good price."
Shane nodded. "We might have something to talk about later."
He was already thinking it was time to start flipping secondhand electronics on this side of town.
George was in a great mood now, so the paperwork flew. Ten minutes later the silver Jetta rolled out of the lot.
Karen was behind the wheel, both hands gripping it tight, cheeks flushed with excitement. This was her car. Completely hers. No more asking Eddie for anything.
"How's it feel?" Shane asked from the passenger seat, adjusting the seatback.
"Feels—" Karen turned to him, eyes shining. "Feels like I'm the happiest fucking girl in the whole goddamn world right now. Shane, I've got a car. We've got a car!"
She let out a little scream and stomped the gas. The Jetta surged forward.
Karen was thrilled. Shane was pretty happy too. Now she could drive him to the West Side lessons without him freezing his ass off on the scooter. Tuesday afternoon those parents wanted him to check out the space—she could take him.
Just when Shane thought she was going for a joyride, Karen turned onto a quiet side road with almost no traffic. She pulled over, killed the engine, yanked her hair into a quick ponytail, and unbuckled her seatbelt.
Before Shane could say anything she climbed straight over the console and into his lap.
The car started rocking with a steady, urgent rhythm.