Chapter Four: The Cost of Integrity
The air inside Altec Auto Repairs was thick with grease and gasoline, the scent of labor and long hours. Kelly Adeniyi had learned to live with it—it clung to his clothes, seeped into his skin, and followed him home like a shadow. But it was honest work, and it paid just enough to keep the lights on and Zuri's lunchbox full.
Today, however, the shop felt different. Ten minutes into his shift and the tension was already humming beneath the fluorescent lights. Mechanics exchanged tight nods. Someone's radio played faintly in the background, but even that felt out of place—like laughter at a funeral.
Kelly was under the hood of an old Ford when the voice came.
"Kelly. My office. Now."
It was sharp. Feminine. Laced with arrogance.
He wiped his hands on a rag and turned. There she was—Trisha Lorne, the shop's operations manager, standing by the office door with a clipboard in one hand and disdain in her eyes. She was always impeccably dressed for someone in a garage—tight skirts, red lips, heels that never seemed to smudge.
Kelly followed her wordlessly. He'd been here three years and still didn't understand why someone like her managed an auto shop.
The office was small, cluttered with invoices and the sharp scent of lemon sanitizer. She closed the door behind him and leaned on her desk like she owned the world.
"We need to talk about your attitude," she said, slowly crossing one leg over the other.
Kelly stood, arms folded. "What about it?"
"You're cold. Distant. You don't laugh at my jokes. You're… tense."
"I'm here to fix cars, not flirt."
She smirked. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
Kelly didn't respond. He'd seen the way she hovered when he worked, brushing past him too close, making comments with double meanings. He wasn't stupid. But he had bills. And Zuri.
"You could make things easier on yourself," she purred, walking closer. Her nails tapped the edge of his belt buckle, slow and deliberate. "A little appreciation goes a long way, you know."
He stepped back. "I'm not that guy."
Her face hardened in an instant. Gone was the flirty pretense. What remained was pure venom.
"Then don't act shocked when your hours get cut. Or when things suddenly go missing under your name."
He didn't flinch. "Do what you need to do. But don't touch me again."
Trisha's eyes narrowed, and a cold smile spread across her face.
"You'll regret this."
---
The regret came quicker than he thought.
By lunchtime, he was called into the owner's office. Frank barely looked at him.
"We're letting you go, Kelly."
"For what?"
"Missing inventory. Carelessness. Disrespecting management. Pick one."
"You know that's not true."
Frank shrugged, looking more tired than angry. "I don't make the final call. She does. And she's not happy."
Kelly felt heat rise in his chest. Not from embarrassment, but injustice. He clenched his fists, then forced himself to breathe.
"I see."
Frank looked up then. "Look, I'm sorry. You're a good worker. But good workers don't always survive politics."
He left without another word.
The walk back to his car was the longest of his life. Not because of the distance—but the weight.
How would he tell Zuri? Rent was due in two weeks. He had groceries for maybe four days. He had no savings. No backup.
But still… he had his dignity. And some people, like Trisha, would never understand what that meant.
---
When he picked Zuri up from school, her face lit up.
"Daddy! Guess what? I got TWO stars today!"
He smiled, even though his chest ached. "I'm not surprised. I have a genius in the car."
She giggled and climbed into the backseat. "Can we go get the ice cream ? remember you promised
Kelly hesitated.
"Pleaseeeee," she added, her voice sing-song.
He started the engine. "Just a little. We'll share one plate."
Her cheers filled the car, washing over the silence he couldn't explain.
---
That night, after Zuri fell asleep watching cartoons, Kelly sat in the dark living room, the glow from the television casting shadows across his face. His phone buzzed again. A message from Frank.
Frank: "Just keep your head up. Something better will come."
He stared at it.
Better.
Better would need to come fast.
Because he wasn't just fighting for himself. He was fighting for Zuri.
And no matter what the world threw at him next—he wasn't backing down.
Not now.
Not ever.
---