by Loren
“Thank you,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat.
She was rarely praised for her work on the garage, even though it was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
“I know you didn’t always want to be a mechanic, but I can see it’s your calling.” He looked at her, analyzing her, trying to see so deep into her soul that she turned away. “It fits you.”
“Thanks,” she said trying to remember to breathe. What was it about this man that had her so on edge. Liam glanced at his phone and Gene jumped at the chance to get him out of her office. “Have somewhere to go?” she said, picking up her dirty plate and putting it in the trash.
Liam sighed. “Yeah,” he said, packing up the rest of the food and putting his trash in the bag. “I don’t want to, but I should let you get back to work.”
“Right,” she said, not upset at all. She was ready for things to get back to normal. A man in her office, eating lunch like they were friends instead of just a mechanic and a customer was strange, to say the least.
“This was fun,” Liam said stalling. “Thanks for indulging me.”
“Thanks for bringing lunch,” she said, standing to walk him out.
“What can I say? That’s what good neighbors are for,” he joked.
Gene shook her head and watched him leave. He turned and waved just before he climbed into his car.
“That your new boyfriend?” Thomas, her receptionist, said from behind her.
She swatted at him and shook her head. “As if I have time for that, but even if it was, you mind your business.” She paused at the front desk to catch up on paperwork that needed her signature.
“I hope that’s not her boyfriend. He’s a bit too pretty for me,” Rick, one of the other mechanics said, walking in from the garage.
“Well, who said I choose my love life based on your interest?” she said, putting her hands on her hips.
“You don’t have to. I can just tell. Every woman has a type, and I don’t think that kind of guy,” he said, gesturing behind him as if Liam was still there, “was yours.”
“Since you know so much about my type, you tell me, Rick. What’s my type?” she said, hoping he wouldn’t take the bait.
“That’s easy. You want a strong man that spends more time working with his hands than in the gym. Basically—me.”
“Uh huh,” she said feigning interest. “Anything else?”
“Of course. Rugged looks and a man that knows how to take care of a woman. I bet his hands are soft. You want a man with some callouses,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest.
“You done?” she said, double checking before she cracked his ego.
“Yup,” he said smugly.
“You seemed to know a lot, but you’re missing one key factor, having a type is more than body type. Even if I were attracted to a man like you, he’d have to have everything you don’t, because if you were my type, I would have already fallen at your feet. Right? In fact, the nonexistent line of women at your door tells me everything I need to know about what you offer,” she said, walking towards her office. “If I were you, I’d worry more about myself than who’s come to give my boss lunch.” She shut the door on Rick’s angry face and Thomas’s laughter. Rick was the kind of guy who liked to believe every woman was in love with him and on more than one occasion Gene had busted his balls to make it clear she wasn’t interested and as his boss, she didn’t appreciate the flirty gestures. Still, he peacocked around as if begging for Gene to say something. That time, she couldn’t help herself.
Minutes later there was another knock at her door, and Gene wanted to scream. She had just gotten rid of a visitor. She wasn’t sure how fast she could do it again.
“Come in.”
Janice, the third mechanic, peeked her head through the door. “You busy?”
“No,” Gene said, setting her work aside. She loved working alongside strong, capable women. “Not for you. Come in.”
Janice closed the door and sat in the seat in front of Gene. “So, who’s the cutie that just left?”
Gene laughed. Janice was as curious as she was interested in cars. Between her long multicolored braids and sassy mouth, Janice kept Gene on her toes.
“His name is Liam, and he’s a customer.”
“Mmm. Girl, what you doing to them cars? Since when did fixing cars attract men like him?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Gene said with a shrug. “I didn’t ask him to.”
Janice snickered. “Of course you didn’t. Just look at your face. Just because you’re covered in grease most of the time doesn’t make you any less pretty, girl. You got the makings to drive any man crazy.” If anyone else had said that, Gene would have blown them off. “I know you’ve seen Rick looking at you.”
Gene scoffed. “Rick looks at anything with breasts and two legs.”
Janice screamed and reached across the table for a high five. “Right?”
“Nobody’s paying attention to me in this shop. Between you and Helen, I’m in third place,” Gene joked, but Janice just shook her head.
“We all have something to offer.”
Janice was African American with thick brown hair, full lips, and hazel eyes. When Lady Parts first opened, all her clients had been men interested in getting her number and instead she gave them her card with the shop’s name on it.
Helen was pale with blue eyes and a big smile. Her specialty was add-ons. If you wanted to put in hydraulics or a ridiculous amount of electronics, she was your girl. She was another one that threw customers off. She wore makeup and designer clothes every day, even her shoes. Even Gene had had concerns when Helen was first hired. She’d given her a thirty-day trial period to make sure she knew her stuff. People always underestimated Helen.
“You right,” Gene agreed. “But really, he’s nobody. How are you though? Do you need anything? You haven’t stopped by in a while.”
Every so often, Janice and Helen would stop by her office to chat but Janice had been on leave and Helen ate lunch with her daughter at school. Her daughter had ASD, and since this was her first year in preschool, it helped to keep her in a routine.
“I’m good, thanks for asking,” Janice said. “My mother’s surgery went off without a hitch, and I shouldn’t have to take off anymore this year.”
“Well you know if you need anything, you can call me.”
Janice reached for Gene’s hand. “You’re one of the good ones. You know that? Best boss I’ve ever had.”
“Thanks,” Gene said blushing.
“Now, I’ve got to get back to work,” Janice said standing. “Wouldn’t want my boss to think I’m slacking on the job,” she joked and walked out the door.
5
The next day was less eventful and Gene got to spend more time working on cars than at her desk. She liked days like that.
“Hello,” a voice said, interrupting her work. Gene rolled from under the car to see who it was.
“Can I help you?” Gene said to the woman holding a microphone and two men behind her holding cameras.
“Yes, hello,” she said holding her hand out for a shake before pulling it back when she saw Gene’s dirty hands. “I’m Tiffany. We’re here to film the commercial. So where do you want us?”
“I don’t understand.”
Tiffany huffed and turned to dig through her purse and pulled out a small notepad.
“This is Lady Parts, right?” There was only one Lady Parts. “I am looking for Gene.”
“That’s me, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You hired me. I’m Tiffany from The Pink Print Marketing.” It wasn’t enough that she named her company that, she was dressed in a pastel pink suit with black pumps. Tiffany turned the page in her notebook, skimming for something. “I was hired by your partner ... Arnold.”
Gene struggled to keep the polite smile on her face. “I don’t have a partner.”
“Well he paid for everything so you might as wel
l let us finish and don’t worry, you won’t have any speaking lines.” Her eyes took in Gene from head to toe before a dissatisfied frown donned her perfect face. “We have a model.”
“Would you excuse me for one moment,” Gene said smiling a large fake smile at Tiffany before walking to the back and dialing Arnold’s phone.
Again his secretary picked up. “Higgins Corporation, how many I help you.
“Sarah,” Gene said remembering her name. “Put me through to Arnold.”
“One moment,” she said without carrying on conversation. Gene was willing to guess Arnold clued her in and discouraged fraternizing with the enemy.
“Gene, twice in one week, I’m flattered.”
“Would you like to explain to me why there is a woman named Tiffany standing in my garage with cameras?”
“I bet Tiffany already explained herself,” he said and Gene imagined steam coming out of her ears.
“She did but just humor me, I’d like to hear it from the horse’s mouth instead.”
“She’s there to film a commercial.”
“Why Arnold, why?” It was like pulling teeth.
“Because you need more clients. How can the business be a success if no one knows about it?”
“But I don’t have money for a commercial.” She was barely making enough to cut her employee’s checks, but she didn’t say that.
“Maybe not,” he said after making some strange noncommittal sound, “but that’s not my problem.” She cringed thinking of how much further she was in debt now.
“Yes it is! You can’t just go around making decisions and spending the company’s money without talking to me.”
“Yes I can. I can while I have majority shares,” he said smugly. She could hear him smiling to herself on the other end of the phone. That bastard.
Gene gripped the phone in her hand, willing it not to crack. “Arnold, I’m telling that woman we want a refund.”
“Then we’ll lose the deposit.” He sounded like he didn’t care one way or the other. “But on the bright side we get to keep the billboard.”
“What billboard?”
“The one she put along 85 north. I haven’t seen it yet but I heard it really stands out.”
Gene could feel herself on the verge of a panic attack. “You can’t do this. The judge said you cannot intentionally cause the garage to fail.”
“I’m not,” he said. “Every business needs marketing Gene. I think the judge will understand.”
Gene imagined herself in court again and knew he was right. The judge would see it in his favor. Even though she knew the garage couldn’t afford too many risks, it wasn’t unequivocally damaging for him to buy this marketing campaign.
She sighed. “Goodbye Arnold.” Her ex-husband was a jerk but he was a jerk with disposable income and unless she could find a way from underneath his thumb, she was going to be jerked around like this until the stipulation in their divorce agreement ended. One year. That’s how long she had left to either turn a profit, buy the shares from him, or close the doors for good.
“Bye,” he sang before she hung up.
Gene usually didn’t look forward to getting off work. Sure, she didn’t enjoy dealing with customers that much, but she loved working on cars. She loved being her own boss, and there wasn’t much at home for her. But today had been tiresome. After enduring two hours of Tiffany and her crew dictating where she, Janice, Helen, Rick, and Thomas should stand, and how they should stand or pretend to be working on cars, she was irritated and in need of a drink.
On the rare occasion she needed a break, she visited Mist, a bar with good music and pretty good food. It was one of those bars that rebuffed the new age trends and prided itself on good alcohol and good vibes. Ted, the owner, had frequently been heard saying, “We don’t need all that new age country club shit.” As a result, most of the working class in Charlotte went there to drink. She went there for that too but more so because of her childhood friend, Remy, who worked as the bartender. As much as she enjoyed seeing him, she liked that he would give her at least one free drink.
“Hey you,” he said, setting down the glass he was wiping. His hair was purple this time. He routinely changed the color and Gene had yet to see a color that didn’t work on him. His smooth brown skin was something she adored but never mentioned, for fear of making him uncomfortable.
She smiled at him as she sat on the bar stool. “Hey yourself,” she said, looking over the edge to see what he was about to mix.
“Long time no see,” he said, grabbing a bottle of Grey Goose.
“Yes, it has. Work has been driving me up the wall, but you know, I signed up for that, so I have to stick by it. Thankfully, today is Friday. I am ready to reward myself for being a good adult.”
Remy laughed as he poured something red in a mixer and shook it up. “Well then let me be the first to congratulate you.” He poured a slushy-like drink into a wide rim glass before pushing it towards her and dropping a tiny umbrella into it. “Cheers to the mini-vacay,” he said and leaned back as she sipped it. “Since we both know you work on Saturday.”
She swallowed. “Not this Saturday,” she said and smiled before taking another sip.
“Good?” Remy asked as if unsure of the taste.
She smiled reassuringly. “Perfect.” She took a deep breath and sighed.
“You seem stressed,” Remy said, looking at her with the insight of a bartender and friend. “You just told me you’re taking off.”
“I am. I just need a drink and to relax a little. You know? Just to sit by myself and breathe.” She took two huge gulps of her drink, grateful for its fruitiness. Most days she had to appear hard and like nothing bothered her, but she still wanted her liquor laced with a fruit flavor.
“I hear that. Just holla when you need something else,” he said, looking past her.
Gene nodded with gratitude.
“Don’t even think about it, buddy,” Remy said to someone behind her. “The lady wants to be left alone today. So just turn around now or order a drink.”
She didn’t bother turning around. Remy would handle it.
“Do you always have men guarding you?” Liam said, leaning around so she could see his face.
“What?” she said frowning but those damn butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. Just seeing his face had her longing to touch him.
“At the garage, Thomas didn’t want to let me in. And that other guy stared me down as I left.”
She huffed and stared at Liam instead of answering him, frustrated he kept popping up. “Do you make it a habit of following women? What are you doing here anyway?”
“Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighborhood?” He smirked, and if she wasn’t so frustrated, she might have fallen for it.
“No. I don’t believe it. What are you doing here, Liam?”
“I’m serious,” he said, swiveling her chair so they were face to face. “I just moved here remember? I decided to check out the local bar.”
The excuse was plausible and annoying, and she wished she could poke a hole in it but she couldn’t deny he was new to the area. Liam reminded Gene of her little brother, a smooth playboy who thought the world should fall at his feet, and she wanted no part of it. She knew his kind, and she turned to him hoping her face conveyed just that. “Go away,” she said, rolling her eyes and turned back to Remy.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he said, coming to her side.
“I have one,” she said, sipping it instead of saying no.
“Maybe we got off to the wrong start,” he said, sitting down beside her.
“No,” she said, hating that it was softer than the first. They had gotten off to a bad start, but she had lunch with the man for God’s sake. Clearly, she wasn’t that biased, but she didn’t want anything more. She wanted to be done with him.
He tried again. “I know what you like. You’re a dancer kind of girl,” he said, jumping to his feet and running to the jukebox. She w
atched him curiously as he put in some quarters and chose a song.
Within seconds, “Beat It” by Michael Jackson was playing and Liam turned to her with a probing smile. He didn’t have to tell her what it was because she already knew. It was one of the songs that played while she was working on his car. She created Fix It playlists, and Michael Jackson was a playlist staple.
Liam danced towards her snapping. “You know you’re feeling it,” he said, shaking his shoulders. “Yup. I know you want to dance,” he said with a smile. “Come on.”
She hated the way her head wanted to bob and then on impulse she jumped on her feet. “Thirty-second dance party,” she said with a warning finger in the air. “No more.”
“It’s just a dance, Gene.” It wasn’t just a dance. It was a rule she wasn’t sure she wanted to break. An exception she just might make. A risk she was thinking she should take. He looked nothing like Arnold as he stood there dancing by himself, willing to look silly for a moment if it meant she would join him and she wanted to. She wanted to join him so bad but what would it mean for the future? She didn’t want to be hurt anymore. She didn’t want to open her heart to someone, to have it ripped into pieces. But she didn’t want to wonder what could have happened if she took the dance. “Come on. If you don’t like my two-step, I’ll three-step right out of your life.”
She relaxed seeing his sincerity and the drink she had before finally hitting her system helped.
“Okay,” she said before losing it. Her hips moved on their own, and she waved her hands in the air with no worries. Liam did a weird dance move where he pretended he was falling before jumping up and Gene, against her better judgment, laughed at it. Her chuckle turned into a full belly laugh, and she laughed wholeheartedly while dancing. Thirty seconds turned into a full five minutes, and she loved every second of it. She needed it. She was laughing and actually having fun, and she couldn’t remember the last time she did that. All she ever did was work and try to prove she could be a success, and heavy is the head that wears the crown.
She dropped back down on her stool when the song ended and took a deep breath before exhaling aloud. “Whoo!”
