by Loren
She waited to see if he would take them to the sink himself. She wasn’t a maid, and she had no plans to clean up after a man she just met. There was no reason to set the precedent of what she might do should she decide to invite him over again.
He grabbed both their plates, surprising her as he rinsed them off before looking for the dishwasher. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she thought.
“I don’t use that,” she said, moving around him to place the glasses in the sink.
“Why not? That’s what it’s for, you know? To wash dishes.”
“I know but I have hands and so do you. We’re the dishwashers. It’s just lazy to run that thing when I’m the only person who eats here. It would take forever to get enough dishes to run a load.”
She stopped talking for fear she would say something else she shouldn’t. What the hell was this man doing to her? Now he knew she was single and lived alone. She would have to sleep with a bat beside her bed for the next couple of days just in case he got any ideas and tried to climb through a window.
“Where’s the soap?” he asked, grabbing the wash rag from where it was hanging.
“Under the cabinet,” she said, not stepping forward to help him.
She let him run the water and wash while she put the food away and wiped down the table. When she was finished, he had set all the dishes in the drying rack and was leaning against the sink, watching her work.
“I’m sorry about earlier … at the garage,” he said, surprising her. “I was rude and a bit of an asshole.”
“A bit?” she mumbled. “A sexist really,” she added which shocked him into silence. She didn’t do him the favor of filling the silence with conversation. While he thought on what she said, she grabbed two long white candles from her junk drawer and a small box of matches.
After a few minutes passed, he added, “I know women can do all kinds of jobs.” He pushed himself off the sink to walk towards her. “This is a new age we’re living in.” He came to a stop in front of her. “I shouldn’t have assumed,” he said in a low voice as he stared down into Gene’s eyes. “This is the part where you say you accept my apology,” he said, leaning a hair closer to her, so close she could feel his breath on her mouth. Her heart was racing like she was running a marathon. What was happening? Was he crazy? Should she be worried? For some reason she wasn’t. She was turned on, which was even more worrisome.
“How do I know that was genuine?” she asked just to keep him on edge.
“You don’t. I guess I’ll have to stick around to show you what I look like when I’m BSing.”
Was it her imagination or did he lean even closer?
“I already know what you look like when you’re BSing. You couldn’t have really thought that lasagna was homemade.”
He chuckled deep and low. “Then we’re ahead of the curve.”
“Fine,” she whispered. “I accept your apology.”
“Good. If it’s that easy to get your forgiveness, I hope you pardon me for this too,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her.
She took a giant step back, and Liam stumbled, eyes jolting open in confusion.
What the hell was wrong with her? She should have just let him do it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t wanted him to kiss her. God, she hadn’t been kissed in so long and he looked like he knew what to do with his lips. Her grip tightened on the candles and she forced her hand to relax so she didn’t break them.
“I’m sorry. I just ... I thought ... Maybe I read that wrong?” he said, taking a step back to put more space between them.
“You didn’t. I just can’t. This was a mistake,” she said, walking towards the front door.
“Where are you going?” he asked, following her.
“I am going to let you out,” she said, rounding on him so she could open the door. “Here are your candles. I’ll get your clothes. Keep the robe. Since you live nearby, you can return it whenever you want,” she said, running up the stairs before he could say anything else.
When she returned, she all but threw the clothes at him. “It was nice to see you. Thanks for coming over. If you need anything else, you know where to find me,” she said, clenching her hands into fists to prevent herself from pushing him out the door.
The rain had settled down, and, instead of coming down in unrelenting sheets, it was coming down in a soft mist. That made her feel better about kicking him out. The sky and street were still dark, but Gene felt confident it wouldn’t be long before the lights came back on. She shivered as the cool air from outside caressed her bare skin.
“But ... Don’t you want to talk about this?” he said, taking a step through the door but not far enough for her to close it.
“Nope. There’s nothing to talk about. I fed you like the good neighbor I am, and I gave you candles. Don’t worry about giving them back to me. Okay now, bye bye.”
Liam moved uncertainly, looking at her with both longing and apprehension but she didn’t give him any indication she was open to hearing anything else he had to say. She closed the door inch by inch. For every inch he walked through the entrance, she closed the door even more until he was gone. “Good night,” she said just before closing the door completely. She turned, leaning back against the door before sliding to the floor.
“What have you gotten yourself into, girl?” she mumbled aloud.
She didn’t need to be involved with anyone. Letting Liam kiss her would have been one more bad decision on a road of poor decision-making. She couldn’t afford to make that mistake.
4
Gene sat at her desk staring at the papers surrounding the laptop in front of her, just barely keeping herself from frowning. Frowning used more muscles in the body than punching someone in the face and Gene had no plans to age early. What she needed to do was smile and the only thing that would make her smile was knowing she owned Lady Parts outright. But she didn’t. Arnold Higgins, her ex-husband owned the majority shares and he had made sure to Lord it over her head in the divorce negotiations. She had tried sympathy and pity. Maybe anger would work this time.
She threw the paper down and punched the number she hated she knew by heart.
"Higgins Corporation, how may I help you?" a voice Gene didn't recognize said sweetly, which pissed Gene off even more.
"Who is this?" she said, letting her tone communicate exactly how she felt.
"Um, Sarah," the woman stammered.
"Where's Shelby?" Gene said, just barely keeping herself from sounding bitter.
"Oh," Sarah raved. Gene could imagine her on the other end of the phone clapping with excitement. "She's out on maternity leave."
"She had a baby?" Gene screeched.
"Oh no," the woman said, still managing to sound like she was just chit-chatting with a friend instead of stabbing a metaphorical knife into Gene's chest. "Not yet but she's close. Three weeks left but the doctor put her on bed rest. So, I'm filling in for her. Would you like me to take a message and tell her you called?"
"No," Gene growled. "Put me through to Arnold."
"May I ask who's speaking?" Sarah said, finally sounding guarded.
"No," Gene yelled. "You may not. Put me through to him." And in case Sarah was thinking of putting her on hold she added, "Now!"
Only a few seconds passed before she heard her ex-husband’s voice. "Hello?"
"You didn't waste any time did you, Arn?"
"Gene," he hissed. "As usual, I have no idea what you're talking about.”
"It wasn't enough to cheat on me with your secretary huh? You had to propose to her before you even asked me for a divorce and now I find out she's pregnant?" Gene said, just barely keeping her voice from inaudible decibels.
He sucked his teeth. "What do you want, Gene?"
"Ha!" she said her voice lacking humor. "You don't even have the decency to deny it. Did you at least wait until the ink was dry on our divorce decree?" They hadn’t been divorced a full year yet.
"Genevieve, I'm going to hang up. You have fi
ve seconds to get to the point," he said.
"Just wanted to know why you're so intent on seeing me fail," she said, trying to appear casual.
He sucked his teeth. "Really? This again?"
"Yes, this again. You say you don't care anything about me and yet you won't give me your stocks. There's no reason for you to keep them." They hadn’t been his to begin with. The only reason he got them was his lawyer argued Arnold funded the startup, conveniently forgetting in a marriage what money was Arnold’s, was hers. She hadn’t stolen it from him to start it and although Arnold made more money, who could say where her money ended and his began.
"You’re damn right I'm not going to give them to you!" he hissed. "I gave you years of my life! I gave you a roof over your head. I gave you that business!" he yelled, and she had the satisfaction of knowing she made him lose his cool.
"You didn't give me anything I didn't work for or couldn’t get myself," she said matter-of-factly. "It's that entitled attitude that lost you a good wife."
"And yet somehow I managed to get me another one,” he said like a kid trying to one-up her.
She sighed. “I didn’t call to argue with you, Arnold.”
He chuckled without humor. “And what do you call what you’re doing right now?”
She ignored the question. “Look. I was calling to ask you once again to be civil and give me the other half of my company. The shares are the last piece of me you’re still holding onto. If you let them go, I’ll be gone from your life forever.” That’s what he claimed he wanted.
“As I already told you,” he said over the sound of papers ruffling. She could imagine him organizing his desk, trying to stay in control. It was one of the things about him that annoyed her. He didn’t know how to let things get messy. “Why can’t you just buy them from me? I already told you they’re up for sale. Can you not afford them?”
He already knew she couldn’t. That’s what was so demeaning about this call and his tone. Would she be calling asking for them if she could outright buy them? The answer was no. He knew that. She knew that. Anybody with sense who could count knew that. Her garage was just a year past inception and with the money she had to spend in inventory to stay a leg up over the competition, pay salaries and herself, she could not afford anything else.
“I’m not giving you anything,” he said continuing. “I don’t know why you thought my answer would change. What did you think you would accomplish this time around?”
She let the dial tone be her answer. What had she been thinking indeed?
She put her head down and screamed silently against the desk. Arnold Higgins seemed to be determined to make everything on her end hard. It wasn’t enough to lie, hurt, and leave her. He had to twist the knife in her back even deeper. The words on the page blurred before her and she closed her eyes, trying to not let the tears fall as much as she no longer wanted to see the red ink.
Staring at the pages changed nothing. The facts didn’t lie. She was not the only garage in a twenty-five-mile radius, but Liam didn’t know that. Well, he probably knew by now but so what? She hadn’t lied about being the best. She was, and she got his car in and out within an hour like she said. But lying was a horrible way to get business, even if she was the best. She felt bad about that, but she couldn’t change the fact that she lied or the reason why. The garage was new and sadly, not doing as well as she hoped, and its success affected more than just her.
Before, she had wanted to be successful to prove Arnold wrong because he had been so vindictive to take part of her company in a divorce that wasn’t her fault. Well, the divorce and the divorce agreement that stated she had two years to be profitable or buy the shares back from him or he would close the business. And she wanted to prove to herself that she could do it without him. He thought her idea was stupid and pointless, but she could see her future so clearly in her head, she knew it wasn’t a pipe dream. The only reason why there weren’t more female mechanics was because men like Arnold told them they couldn’t do it. Now she had other people’s paychecks and livelihoods on the line. She couldn’t afford to make mistakes or get distracted.
She ran her fingers through her hair to the scalp and pulled. She had to figure out a way around Arnold and her own bitterness. She just had to keep looking and see where she could make cuts.
“Knock knock,” a voice said, cracking the door open. Gene looked up and startled so hard she almost dropped her pen.
“Liam,” she said, “what a surprise. Please come in. Is something wrong with your car? I can assure you, I double-checked everything, and it was perfect when it left here.”
He chuckled, coming around the door and showing his hands laden down with a couple of white plastic bags. “My car is just fine. I just wanted to return the favor, so to speak,” he said, stepping fully into her office. “You know, for that awesome dinner. Have you eaten lunch yet?” he asked hopefully.
“No,” Gene said, stacking her papers quickly, more because she didn’t want him to see the pages than because she wanted to have lunch with him.
“Does that no mean no you haven’t eaten and you’ll eat with me? Or no, you don’t want the lunch?” he asked, holding the bags up in question.
“Um,” she said, not liking being put on the spot.
“No pressure,” he added. “It’s just food. You gotta eat, right?”
“Sure,” she said, gathering the stack of papers so the top of her desk was clear. Quickly she turned to lock the stack of pages in the file cabinet behind her.
He smiled and came forward to set the food down on her desk. “Great. So how was your day?” he said, pulling out the small containers.
Gene felt weird. What the hell was she even doing? Lunch at work like they were a couple was weird. She couldn’t remember the last time she had lunch with someone at work. Well, she could—it was never, and here this man was smiling at her and waiting for an answer as if this was their norm. None of this was normal.
“It’s not over yet,” she said, determined not to give him specifics.
“Well how’s it going so far?” he asked, sliding a napkin with utensils in front of her.
“It’s alright. What’d you get?” she said, ready to change the subject.
“I hope you like Chinese,” he said.
She tried to appear content and thankful while losing it inside. Sure she liked Chinese, but what was this man doing here? “I’m not picky at all.”
He smiled again as he opened all the white boxes and slid her an empty paper plate. “Good, eat whatever you like. I got General Tso's chicken, and beef and broccoli, with one fried rice and one white rice.”
He pulled up one of the chairs that never got used in front of her desk as he talked.
Gene nodded and only began to help herself when he sat down. He waited until she scooped the first helping to make his plate.
“You didn’t have to do this you know,” she said before taking a bite of the beef and broccoli.
“I know but what are good neighbors for? If you ever need sugar or to borrow an egg you should come over,” he said with a smirk.
If there was ever anything she was certain she wouldn’t do, it was asking Liam if she could borrow a cup of sugar. That seemed too close to temptation. He wasn’t making it any easier on her now. In that tracksuit he looked like he planned to advertise for Nike more than actually go running.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Why are you here anyway? Us normal people have to work.”
He shrugged, making sure to chew thoroughly and swallow before saying, “I had today off.”
“And you thought to spend that time with me?” she asked, not getting it.
“Yeah,” he said. “I figured I couldn’t be in the gym all day.”
“Going to the gym after you leave here?” she asked, still trying to figure out small talk. “That seems counterproductive.”
“The gym is a regular stop for me.”
“You one of those gym buffs?” She wouldn’t be
surprised if he said yes. He looked incredibly fit. She, however, could stay in the gym as long as she wanted but she’d still have the hips her momma gave her.
“I wouldn’t say that. It’s a good stress reliever, but I don’t live there.”
“You could have fooled me,” she said, and he laughed.
“Thank you I think,” he said, and Gene noticed the tinge of pinks in his cheeks.
“You’re welcome.”
“So, I’m curious...” he said, and Gene found herself tense.
“About?”
“You. This garage. I mean Lady Parts. There’s so much that’s ingenious about the name and this garage.”
“Are you going to ask about something in particular?” she said, not sure where he was going with it.
“How many people work here?”
“There’s four of us,” she said slowly.
“And are you the only female mechanic?”
“Why?” she said, pushing her plate away since she was full.
“Well because I find that amazing. I mean you have to know female mechanics aren’t a dime a dozen and I was wondering if you mentored or encouraged other women who have the interest to do the same.”
She was struck by the question. No one had ever shown interest in her work outside of the anomaly that was her as a mechanic. “As a matter of fact, we have one other female mechanic, plus a female service technician.” Out of five employees, three were female.
“That’s incredible. I’m sure they’re grateful for a place that appreciates their work.”
They really did. Gene did her best to create a tension-free work zone. That meant in addition to sick days, every woman got one free period day every month where they didn’t have to come to work no excuse needed, maternity leave, and an open-door policy which had meant on more than one occasion allowing her workers, including the men, to leave early for a doctor’s appointment or child’s recital. Some companies complained those kinds of benefits encouraged employees to slack off or be lazy, but that was far from the truth. If anything, they worked harder, knowing she took care of them, and wanted to stick around.
