Becoming Rain: A Novel

I hang up as I pull into the lot at the garage. “Rust’s partners at RTM, offering their condolences.”

“That’s . . . nice of them?” Rain offers hesitantly.

“Yeah . . . I give them two weeks before they start talking about buying me out of Rust’s share.”

“Is RTM . . .” she pauses, “part of that business you mentioned you had with Aref and Vlad?”

“No. This is completely separate. A hundred percent legit. Just like this garage. Rust kept that other stuff away from here.”

“And it’s all yours now?”

“Yeah. Or it will be, once it goes through probate. He already signed the garage over a few weeks ago.” All kinds of thoughts have been crawling into my head these past few days. Namely, did he have an idea that this might happen? And if he did, why the hell didn’t he do more to protect himself? Why didn’t he tell me to fuck off when I pushed him on the Aref deal?

“So, what are you going to do?” Her eyes land on the garage sign hanging above us.

“I don’t know. There’s definitely more than enough here to keep me busy and comfortable.” I take her hand. She’s been more quiet than usual since leaving the funeral home. This must be a lot for her to deal with. It’s one helluva way to meet my mom and sister.

“It’ll take months to sort out all the legal stuff, so I have time to decide if I want to step into Rust’s place or—”

“Take his place where?” Her pleading eyes rise to take me in.

“At RMT. Doing something that’s not going to put a bullet in my head. That’s all, I promise.” I’m still upright and breathing, with no sign of Vlad, so I have to think he’s not too worried about what I could possibly say. But what kind of future is this? If Rust’s death did anything, it served as a wake-up call. Maybe Vlad is right—I am an idiot, because I got myself involved in a multi-million-dollar car theft ring with the fucking Russian mob and I didn’t see this coming.

I don’t want to live the rest of my days worrying that I may piss someone off and end up dead. What kind of life is that? A hundred Porsches don’t make it worthwhile.

“That, or you could just take the money and start over. Clean,” Rain suggests.

“Yeah.” Whatever it is, it won’t be anything to do with stealing cars. “Let’s do this.” I nod toward the garage and then slide out of the car. It’s the first time I’ve been here since Rust died.

Was murdered.

“Luke.” Tabbs is the first to walk up to me, offering a clean hand and a rare, somber expression. “If there’s anything we can do, please let us know.”

I nod, afraid my voice will give away my grief. “Is Miller inside?”

“Yup. He’s been pretty much holed up in there.”

I find Miller sitting behind his desk, staring at his lap. When he finally looks up and notices us standing there, he’s on his feet instantly, coming around the desk to offer me his hand.

“Luke, I . . .” He clears his throat. He looks even worse now than he did after his short hospital stay a few weeks ago. He may even have lost weight. His face looks gaunt. “I’m sorry about Rust. He . . .” He bows his head. “He was always good to me.”

“For what it’s worth, he always spoke highly of you. He trusted you unequivocally.”

“I’ll . . . uh . . . I’ll take care of things around here. Don’t worry about any of that.”

There’s just no way I’m ready to come back here. “Thank you. I just . . .” I exhale heavily, sliding my hands into my pockets. Looking at the wall across from me, where an array of recognitions and business awards for the garage hang, including one of a smiling Rust shaking hands with the mayor of Portland after winning an area consumer award, a lump fills my throat. He was so proud of this business. He took pride in all his ventures, legal and otherwise. Everything he touched was successful. Until now.

“It’s hard, Miller. I’m still waiting for it to really hit me. But don’t worry. You’ll always have a job here while I own this place.”

He clears his throat again, his voice turning rough. “You can count on me.” Then he storms past us, out the door and down the hall, rubbing at his cheek as he disappears into the restroom.

I feel Rain sidle up to my back, her arms roping around my waist to give me a hug. “Were they close?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Miller’s been running this place since it opened.” My phone’s ringing, pulling me away from thoughts of Miller.

It’s the police. My car is finally being released.

I’d let them keep it if only I could have Rust back.