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“h e gets easily caught up in his work.”
    “What do you do here?” I asked, trying to pass the time.
    “I work behind the counter,” s he replied , pointing to the checkout counter at the front of the store . “I've been here for almost four years now, and don't tell Paul, but I still know very little about the junk people bring in here.”
    “Yeah, I can't imagine what that might be like.”
    Before the pink-haired woman had a chance to respond, Paul came walking out from the back of the store. He looked just as I remembered him, if not slightly slimmer. He was a bulky man, with broad shoulders and muscles fit for a wrestler. His appearance had always intimidated me, but despite the way he looked, he was a gentle man. Atop his head was a thick mane of bronze hair that I was grateful I hadn't inherited.
    “Alexis!” h e said , walking in our direction with a wide grin on his face before suddenly engulfing me in his big arms.
    “Hey, Paul, ” I squeaked under the pressure of his grip.
    He released me and the grin remained on his face. “Happy birthday!”
    I frowned. “I suppose you would know it was that day, huh?”
    “Can't keep it from everyone,” h e laughed. “What brings you around these parts, havin’ some car troubles ? I told your mom that old Al- ”
    “Mom – no, Janet – gave me a letter last night, ” I interrupted, lying slightly , not mentioning that Salem had filled me in on the rest of the story.
    “About what?” h e didn't seem to have a clue why I was here. I glanced through the windows at Salem. He hadn't moved an inch.
    “About her and Desmond not being...” The words caught in my throat, “not being my real parents.”
    “Oh...” h e mu ttered, looking at me in shock, “d o you want to go to the back room?”
    I could feel Kate's brown eyes gazing curiously at us. I nodded my head slowly and followed Paul into the back. We were surrounded by boxes of car parts that weren't out on the shelves yet, and in the far corner was a light brown desk cluttered with used coffee mugs, scattered papers and a checkbook. He took a seat behind the messy desk and I sat in the seat on the opposite side.
    “What exactly did she tell you?” h e asked, pushing some of the debris away so he could lean forward with his elbows against the wood top.
    “She told me that you are my real father,” I mumbled, “i s that true?”
    He appeared just as uncomfortable back here as I was. “Yes, Alexis. I am your father,” h is voice was barely audible.
    “Why...why has this been kept from me so long?”
    “It was for your own good,” he sighed, “I was just trying to protect you.”
    “Protect me from what?”
    “From me...from my lifestyle,” h e appeared to be having trouble discussing it.
    I frowned. “I don't understand, because you’re a mechanic or what? Or because you’re a single father and you didn’t think you could handle raising me alone ? ”
    “ That’s not it at all… I'm just not the fatherly type.”
    “I find that hard to believe, ” I laughed. “You ’ve always been a great enough uncle.”
    “It's much more difficult than you could know , Alexis, ” Paul sighed heavily, “I take it Janet didn't explain much , huh ?”
    “She didn't really give me much more than 'Paul's your dad!'” It felt wrong lying to Paul about some of the details, but by the way Salem reacted to even entering the building I felt he didn't want Paul knowing he was involved.
    He smirked. “That sounds about right for her. This isn't easy for me to tell you...”
    “What isn't?” I was getting impatient; someone needed to give me a straight answer soon before I went insane!
    “You are going to think I'm crazy, and you are probably going to want to run awa y,” h e stared a t me, watching my expression, “b ut don't. I promise you, there's nothin’ to run from.”
    “Get on with it, Paul, ” I couldn't take any more of these vague answers.
    “The Waldron family is different from