by K R Max
A red haze rises in my mind and my eyes and I grind my teeth with the effort it takes not to drive my fist into this asshole’s face.
“That ‘side piece’ was going to be your boss. Just as soon as I can find her.”
“But...she quit.”
“So? She’s the best damn mechanic I’ve got, across the entire company. She got Dad’s Superbird running again and even he couldn’t manage that.”
I stand up, too antsy to stay seated, and I find myself staring at my desk. It takes me a minute to put together a couple of things that aren’t matching up. For one thing, Frank is far too relaxed about all this. And for another, something’s missing from my desk.
I look up. “Where’s the paperwork I left on here?” It’s a rhetorical question, until I look up and see Frank trying, and failing utterly, to look innocent.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been in here.”
“You were here when I came in,” I snarl through gritted teeth.
He shrugs but he hasn’t got the face for innocence. Besides, I know the truth now. The numbers don’t add up for a reason. He’s been skimming from this place for months. I was going to give him a chance to come clean, but now I won’t bother. I open my mouth to rain down hell, but a knock interrupts me.
“Not now!” I snap, but it opens anyway to reveal Julio, looking tired but determined.
“Hey, Frank,” he says. “You dropped these by your locker. They looked important, so I figured I should make sure you got them back.”
It sounds casual enough, but something about his tone has my ears pricking up. I scan what I can see of the papers and a couple of important words catch my eye. A quick glance at Frank’s panicked face intrigues me and I hold out a hand.
“May I see that?”
“It’s private,” snaps Frank, reaching for the papers.
“Sure,” says Julio, angling them away from him and holding them out to me. “You’re the boss, right?”
It doesn’t take long to confirm my suspicions. It’s the contract I left for Charlie, promoting her to manager of this shop, and making her training manager for the entire company.
I thank Julio, then turn to Frank. “You’re fired. Get out. And don’t bother trying to get another job with any reputable classic car repair shop. I’ve already started the process for pressing fraud charges against you. You didn’t fire fourteen mechanics in three months. You never hired them in the first place. Just filled out the paperwork and pocketed their salaries. Like I said, Charlie was going to be your boss, until I found out you’ve been defrauding the company. Now get the hell out!”
Frank’s face goes slack, then settles into hard lines. “You arrogant son of a bitch. I made this company. Your dad wouldn’t have shit if it wasn’t for me, and neither would you, you entitled, spoiled little ngh!”
He breaks off as I wrench his arm up behind his back and slam his face into the wall. “My dad worked like a dog every damn day. You were just a flea with a pair of hands. The closest you’re going to get to repairing classic cars in future is as a prison mechanic when a goddamn washer breaks down.”
A solid cop comes through the door and doesn’t even twitch when he sees me strong-arming my former employee. I send Frank stumbling towards him and the guy cuffs him with professional speed. “Get him out of my sight.”
I take a breath, then grab my car keys. I can only hope Charlie hasn’t left town yet.
I’m about to leave when I remember something else. I turn to look at Julio, who’s been watching the show with a gradually widening smile. “I hear you’ve got some challenges at home,” I tell him, and his grin vanishes.
“It doesn’t stop me from doing my job,” he says hurriedly.
“Never said it did. Here.” I grab a second set of keys from the desk and throw them to him. “This is yours for as long as you work here. Company car.”
He stares at the keys, then stammers his thanks. I head out, hiding a smile. If he’s that overcome with a set of keys, I almost wish I could stick around to see his face when he sees the 1970 Chevy Chevelle parked out front, waiting for him.
But I can’t. I have to find Charlie.
***
Charlie
It takes me longer than I’d like to pull myself together. Sure, it hurts when you think someone actually cared about you and then you find out they didn’t, but it’s not like I haven’t been here before. I can’t waste time wallowing in self-pity. I need to take action. Move forward.
I stare out over the steering wheel on the Mustang, wishing my parents were still around. Or that I had a friend somewhere, anywhere. Someone I could call up, someone to tell me Leo lost out by ditching me, that I’m better off without him, that I can do so much better.
The inner voice is laughing at me but I shove it away. There’s no one to call, so I have to tell myself this stuff instead. I’ve got to be my own best friend, an army of one.
But, God, it hurts. For a minute there, just a hot fucking minute, I felt part of something. A team, a family. Something bigger than myself. And now I’m on my own again, and I can’t shift the ache in my chest. It reminds me of the weeks and months after my parents died, once the numbness faded, that constant pain that never let me forget I was all alone.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I was into dresses and make up and giggling at boys instead of cars. It would have made it a whole lot easier to make friends growing up.
I look over at the clock. I’ve been sitting here feeling sorry for myself for nearly half an hour. I roll my eyes. No one ever solved a problem by crying over it. I need to find a computer.
I fire up the Mustang and head for the next town and the Byte And Bite, a twenty-four hour Internet cafe that’s going to solve all my problems.
I hope.
Thanks to the glory of the Internet, it doesn’t take long to come up with a list of all-female auto shops. It takes a little longer to narrow that down to places that specialize in classic cars, and then a bit longer again to find the ones who are actively hiring. By the time I’m done, I’ve got three contenders, and the closest one is seven hundred and fifty miles away.
I sigh and do some math in my head. The money I got from the garage was less than it should have been, but I guess I should be grateful I got paid at all. It’s not like I can hire a lawyer and sue for wrongful dismissal, and do I even want that job now that Leo’s clearly decided to cut me loose?
Hell, no.
A girl’s got her pride.
You can’t eat pride, whispers the still, small voice within, and I glare at it. I may not be able to eat it, but it’s irrelevant. I can’t get that job back, even if I wanted it. Time to move forward, and you don’t do that by constantly checking the rearview mirror.
Factoring in the money I have got, I can make it to Classic Ladies, as long as I live on rainwater and candy for the trip. I grimace but it won’t be the first time. I’m young. My teeth can handle a few more calories before they give up the ghost. Once I get settled, in a job where I don’t have to worry about catching the wrong person’s eye, then I can worry about looking after myself. Right now, though, it comes down to some very simple math. Fuel = new job. Ergo, fuel takes priority.
At least I know the Mustang is in good shape. The belt Leo replaced was the only thing that really needed attention. She’ll get me to my new life, and then this will all just be an ugly stain on my memory.
It’s getting late but I’d rather get clear of this whole area sooner rather than later. I’ll actually have to head back through Caulville on my way to Classic Ladies, and I’d rather just eat that frog now.
I settle up and head out, then pull into a gas station on the way out of town. The gas here’s a little cheaper than most other places in the area, and every penny counts. I’ve also got to be able to eat until I get my first check from the new place, provided they take me on.
They’ve got to take me on. I know my shit and last I checked, I’m a woman. First time in my life that’ll
actually be a positive, but I’ll take what I can get.
I head inside to pay for the fuel and score some snacks for the trip. Turning a corner, I run straight into a brick wall and bounce off, knocking half a shelf of Oreos to the floor.
“You!”
Before I’ve even had a chance to see what I ran into, Frank’s sneering voice tells me all I need to know.
Well, shit. Guess I should have gone the long way around.
“Why are you still hanging around here, huh? Thought you might try and weasel your way back into the boss’s pants when I wasn’t around? Nice try, princess. You should take your tight ass and your bucket of bolts and get the hell out while you can. Brent’s a vindictive son of a bitch. He doesn’t like his mistakes hanging around, smoking the place up. If you don’t leave of your own accord, he’ll make you. And he’ll enjoy it.”
Frank looks half-crazed, his eyes all bloodshot and his face mottled with anger. Even filled with rage, though, he can’t stop his eyes from lingering on my breasts, and his hands clench convulsively into fists.
Screw Leo. Frank scares me. Screw the snacks, too. I look around helplessly, searching for a way out. Behind the desk, the cashier looks at me and Frank, then picks up the phone.
Oh hell, I do not need the cops getting involved. The way my luck is going, they’ll arrest me for disturbing the peace and fuck knows what’ll happen to my car while I’m in a cell.
I turn away from Frank. The cashier’s no help, just talking on the phone. I don’t dare stick around for change, and certainly not for gas. Frank is advancing like a bull and I’m out of there, racing across the forecourt to jump in my car and get the hell out of this shitty town. I’ll have to get gas someplace else.
By now, though, it’s nearly midnight, and I remember these roads. Much as I’d like to drive straight through, the last few weeks of near constant work and not enough sleep, not to mention the last twelve hours of emotional upheaval, are catching up with me.
I spot a familiar turn in the road and pull over. I’ll get a few hours sleep and then head out when it’s light. That way I won’t break a goddamn axle when the nearest repair shop is the one place in the entire country I will never go again.
***
Leo
I can’t find her and I’m mad as hell about it. I checked the house and all her stuff is still there, so she can’t have gone far. I tried the place I found her parked up the night before last and she’s not there either. Where the hell else can I look? There is nowhere else. She’s done nothing but work and sleep, and scream her pleasure, since she arrived. She hasn’t had time to make friends or find a place to stay.
Except she did find a place. My place. And she’s not damn well there.
I storm back into the office and ask Sheila if she knows where Charlie is. She shakes her head. I’m not sure she’d tell me anyway, since I’m growling at her like a bear with a socket wrench up its ass, but I have to ask. And I don’t think she knows. They’ve barely said a dozen words to each other. Too busy working.
The truth is, I’m pissed as hell that she just left. She really thought I’d fire her? After everything I’ve said, the responsibility I’ve given her, everything that’s happened, both here in the shop and between us in private, she really thinks I’d kick her to the curb like that?
It’s like she doesn’t know me at all.
Or maybe she’s just not interested. She had her fun and now she’s moving on. Maybe she didn’t stay fight because she didn’t want to. I’m well aware that most of my appeal is in my bank account. I’ve been told that enough times by women to believe it. But this still bites, because I thought this was different. I thought she was different.
“What the hell happened to you?”
I look up to see Jackson in the doorway of the office. I don’t even remember walking in here, or sitting down. I stare at him, then at my desk, then back at him.
“What do you mean?”
His eyebrows rise. “You look like someone shit you through an exhaust pipe five seconds into a ten second race. What’s going on? And do something about your hair. It looks like it’s about to open its eyes and challenge me to a game of poker.”
I glare him, but raise my hand to my head. Sure enough, my hair’s all over the place, probably because I’ve been running my hands through it, and occasionally trying to pull it out, for the last twelve hours.
“Better?”
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Whatever. That’s as good as it’s going to get. I may be a billionaire but the mirror can go fuck itself. I’ve got better things to do than worry about my appearance.
I suddenly realize that’s been one of the things I’ve really enjoyed about the last couple of weeks. Not having to wear a suit and tie, not having to bother about looking the part.
Maybe I’ll embrace that a bit more going forward. I feel more like me in jeans and a t-shirt.
Clearly not good enough for Charlie, though. I wonder idly if she’d have been more impressed by Armani-wearing me.
“Where’s the secret weapon?”
I blink and focus on Jackson. “What?”
“Your hot lady mechanic. She was here last night. Cute little thing. Seemed like she knew what she was doing under the hood, if you catch my meaning.”
My hand is around his throat before I can even form a thought and his eyes bug out.
“Leo! Leo!”
I suddenly realize I’m choking the life out of one of my closest friends and drop my hands. “I’m sorry, man. I’m...I’m really sorry.”
He says nothing for a minute and I brace for a punch. He’s never been the type to take an insult lying down, but the blow never comes.
“So you do like her. I was wondering when you were going to admit it.”
I narrow my eyes at him. The asshole’s actually smiling at me. He played me! “You could have just asked.”
His smile widens. “You gotta admit, this way’s much more fun.”
I snort, then sigh. “She left.”
“Left?” He looks as confused as I feel.
“Quit. Departed. Elvis has left the building. And I have no idea why. I mean, I know why, but she didn’t call me. Didn’t say a word. I’ve never met anyone like her. It’s not just her as a person, although she’s amazing. She’s skilled, so goddamn skilled. I’ve never met someone I admired and respected professionally, as well as… well, being attracted. She had it all, the full package, and I was going to promote her, put her in charge of training across the entire company, and...nothing. She left.”
“You tried to promote her and she left?”
“No. There was a...an asshole incident and she thought I was firing her. I can’t believe she thought I’d do that. I was trying to promote her, for Christ’s sake!”
He nods. “What did she say when you told her?”
“Told her what?”
“About the promotion, dumbass.”
“I haven’t had a chance. She thought I was kicking her out and left. The promotion was supposed to be a surprise and I haven’t been able to find her to explain.”
“O-kay. So have you told her the other stuff? Any of it? About respect and admiration and so on?”
I shake my head slowly, feeling a little stupid, but still pissed off. “I let her work on the goddamn cars. Why would I do that if I didn’t respect her abilities?”
He squints at me in a way I’ve learned to hate. It usually means I’m about to get my ass handed to me, and it hurts every single fucking time.
“You let that Hispanic kid out there work on the cars. Hell, you let Frank work on the cars.”
“Julio isn’t a kid. He just looks like one. And Frank doesn’t work here anymore,” I mutter, and fill him in on Frank’s assholery.
“‘Bout fucking time,” he says. “Anyway, you like her. She’s not just an employee, right?”
I give him a look which should blister his skin right off, but he just stares calmly back. Eventually I rol
l my eyes. “No, smartass, of course not. She’s...more. She’s everything.”
“So did you tell her that?”
“No!” I snap. “I told you, she—”
“Left, yeah, I know. My point is, what have you told her?”
I think back and the silence draws out as I try to remember when I told her what she meant to me, or even implied it.
He sighs theatrically and shakes his head. “What was the last thing you said to her?”
I replay our conversation in my office before I left this morning, then something tickles the back of my mind and I track further back, to what I was saying on the phone when she came in.
