PERMANENT CONSEQUENCE.
Leo hated it.
“That is unbelievably corny.”
Sully nodded proudly.
“I know.”
“You paid money for this?”
“Absolutely.”
“Why?”
“Annoys you.”
Leo left it on the wall.
By twenty-nine, Desert Iron had a new program.
Paid apprenticeships for teenagers nearing the end of foster care.
Leo refused to call it a rescue program.
It was work.
Real work.
Real wages.
Rules.
School attendance required.
Protective equipment mandatory.
No sleeping in the shop.
No off-the-books cash.
No one touched customer motorcycles without supervision.
Nobody had to explain their childhood.
The first apprentice was sixteen-year-old Marisol Vega.
She arrived twenty-seven minutes late.
Stood in Leo’s office waiting to be fired.
Leo looked at the clock.
“You’re late.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Bus.”
“You could’ve called.”
“My phone got shut off.”
Leo nodded.
“Okay.”
Marisol stared.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Her shoulders tightened.
“Bay four needs sweeping.”
She blinked.
“You’re not yelling?”
“Would yelling fix the bus?”
“No.”
“Then sweep.”
She left confused.
Six months later she diagnosed an electrical fault two experienced technicians missed.
Leo bought her lunch.
Did not tell her why.
The second apprentice was a quiet boy named Devon who had been moved through eight placements.
The third loved fabrication.
The fourth hated motorcycles and eventually discovered he was better at inventory management.
Leo considered that a success too.
Not everybody needed to become him.