Chapter 10 - Michael Took His Name Off The Truck
Monday morning, Michael accepted Weston’s offer.
He still had to tell his crew.
That was harder.
Devon swore.
Mark stared at the floor.
Luis already knew.
Michael explained the plan.
Finish two current jobs under a limited schedule.
Refund deposits on one future project.
Sell remaining large equipment.
Close Carter Home Renovation as an active contractor by the end of the month.
Devon said:
“So that's it?”
Michael looked around the warehouse.
Years of sawdust in corners.
Paint samples.
Old cabinets.
A refrigerator that worked only if kicked.
“Pretty much.”
“You’re just walking?”
“No.”
“It feels like it.”
Michael did not argue.
Devon had helped him build the company.
He deserved anger.
Mark asked:
“Do we get paid Friday?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
Michael felt that one.
“Yes.”
He had enough after selling equipment.
Not much left after.
But enough.
Luis stepped in.
“I can get Devon an interview at Weston.”
Devon looked offended.
Then interested despite himself.
Normal survival.
Michael spent the rest of the morning removing tools from his company pickup.
He had to return it to the lender after arranging sale.
The magnetic company logos came off last.
He peeled one side slowly.
CARTER HOME RENOVATION.
His own name curled in his hands.
At three, Ethan texted:
Rent paid?
Michael took a screenshot of the landlord portal.
Then stopped.
No.
He called.
Ethan answered immediately.
“Did it go?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Can you show me?”
Michael smiled despite everything.
“When I get home.”
“Okay.”
Then Ethan asked:
“Are you still a boss?”
Michael looked at the blank truck door.
“Not for a while.”
“Are you mad?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Michael laughed softly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
When he got home, Noah ran to the driveway.
“Dad!”
Michael barely got the door open.
Noah pointed at the truck.
“Where’s your name?”
Michael looked at the bare metal.
“I took it off.”
“Why?”
“My company is closing.”
Noah processed.
“Did it die?”
Michael almost said businesses don't die.
Then decided eight-year-olds deserved metaphors sometimes.
“Kind of.”
Noah hugged him.
Michael stood awkwardly for a second.
Then hugged back.
Ethan came outside.
“Show me.”
Michael opened the rent portal on his phone.
PAID.
Ethan stared.
“Okay.”
That was all.
He went back inside.
Sarah stood in the doorway.
“He asked me twice too.”
Michael walked toward her.
“Weston starts next Monday.”
She nodded.
“How do you feel?”
“Terrible.”
“Good.”
He gave her a look.
She smiled.
“Sorry.”
“No, you're not.”
“Not entirely.”
They stood near the place where the PS5 buyer’s car had been.
Michael said:
“Household account has four hundred left after rent.”
“I know.”
“My first Weston check is two weeks.”
“I know.”
“Northline is still seventeen thousand.”
“Seventeen?”
“Sixteen-eight after today.”
She nodded.
He waited for anger.
It didn't come.
Maybe because the number was finally visible.
Then the front door opened behind Sarah.
A woman Michael didn't recognize stood in the hallway holding a file box.
“Sarah?”
Sarah turned.
“Oh. Tessa.”
The woman smiled.
“Sorry. I’m early.”
Michael looked between them.
Sarah's face changed.
“This is one of my bookkeeping clients.”
Michael stared.
He knew Sarah had side work now.
He did not know clients came to the house.
Tessa handed her the box.
“Quarter-end mess.”
Sarah accepted it.
“Thanks.”
After Tessa left, Michael asked:
“How much work are you doing?”
“Three clients.”
“You said a couple.”
“It became three last month.”
“How much do you make?”
Sarah hesitated.
Michael felt the old panic rise.
Another hidden number.
He stopped himself.
“You don’t have to answer right now.”
She stared.
That surprised her.
Then:
“About twelve hundred a month.”
Michael blinked.
“You make twelve hundred a month after the boys go to bed.”
“Before taxes.”
“Still.”
He looked toward the new household account in his head.
Then at her.
“You were building more than an exit fund.”
Sarah nodded.
“I was building a way not to depend completely on either you or my employer.”
Michael felt hurt.
Not because she worked.
Because she had built a second life at the same dining table and he had never noticed.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
Sarah thought.
May you like
“I don't know.”
That answer belonged to both of them now.
