A few days later, I was walking out of school, my backpack slung over my shoulder, when I heard someone call my name.
“Leo! Wait up.”
It was Toby Gentry, standing near the bike racks, looking hesitant. He wasn’t in his usual work clothes, but a faded band t-shirt and jeans. He looked uncomfortable, glancing around the busy parking lot.
I stopped, my heart thumping a little faster. This was unexpected.
He walked over, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Hey,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “I heard what happened. With my dad.”
“Heard what?” I asked, testing him.
Toby swallowed hard. “The paperwork. The motorcycle. I know he’s… he’s been difficult.” He finally looked at me, his eyes earnest. “Look, I didn’t know he was doing all this until recently. I mean, I knew things were bad, financially. But not like this.”
He reached into his backpack, pulling out a slim, leather-bound notebook. My breath hitched. It was Danny’s motorcycle maintenance logbook. Danny kept meticulous records of every oil change, every part replaced, every mile logged. It was like his personal diary for the Yamaha.
“My dad… he took this a few weeks ago,” Toby said, pressing the book into my hands. “When Danny came by the yard to drop off that generator. Said he needed to check the serial numbers for ‘inventory control’.”
My fingers brushed against the familiar leather cover. This book was priceless to me, full of Danny’s handwriting. It was like holding a piece of him.
“Thank you,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “Thank you, Toby.”
He shrugged, his gaze still troubled. “He shouldn’t have taken it. He shouldn’t be doing any of this, Leo.”
“Why is he?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “Why now?”
Toby leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “He’s in a really bad spot. Our landlord served him an eviction notice. Thirty days to clear out or pay up. He needs a lot of money, fast. That $14,500 he’s demanding from you… that’s exactly what he needs for the back rent.”
The world shifted on its axis. Arthur wasn’t just after some vague money; he was trying to save his entire business from collapse. That $38,000 medical debt, the eviction notice… it was all tied together.
“He’s gonna lose the yard, Leo,” Toby continued, his voice tight. “Everything. He’s always been proud of that place, even if it’s a dump. My mom helped him build it. Without it, I don’t know what he’ll do.”
He pleaded with his eyes. “Please don’t report him to the police. He’s my dad. He’s made a lot of mistakes, but he’s desperate. He’s not a criminal.”
I nodded, clutching Danny’s logbook. I understood the desperation, the fear of losing everything. But that didn’t excuse preying on grieving families. Toby’s quiet shame, his genuine desire to make things right, solidified my resolve. This wasn’t about revenge; it was about truth.
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