“I’m only taking biochem at night, so our schedules work out perfectly. You owe me nothing,” she replied with a chuckle as she put the car in gear.
“Probably true,” I cracked, laughing when she gave me a look as we drove off. “Because you know there was the time I lied for you when you got an ‘F’ on that science paper and I told your parents everyone did bad on it even though I made a ninety-eight.”
“That was in seventh grade, Honor! Jesus. Isn’t there a statute of limitations on this shit?”
I chuckled. “Nope.”
“Great. I get the best friend with the memory of a fucking elephant,” she mumbled, as she flipped her turn signal.
“Ooohh! There’s also the time you played Seven Minutes in Heaven. In the closet. With Bruce Hobwell at Amber Willis’s birthday party in eighth grade.” I looked at her and nodded grinning, as I let her know I did have a long memory.
“Bruce. Isn’t he in jail now?” I laughed when she made a face.
“Don’t forget sophomore year when you snuck out of your house to make out with Jace Jones, and I covered your ass telling your mom you’d come to my house because I was upset that my mom and I had a fight.” I paused for a moment and frowned. “Damn. I feel bad for lying to your parents.” I saw her shake her head and roll her eyes. “But I do have a lot of shit on you.”
She cut her eyes at me before turning them back to the street as she exited campus. “Don’t think I don’t have plenty of shit on you too, girly.”
I shrugged with a chuckle. “Who you gonna tell? Victor?” I realized my mistake immediately when I saw her face fall. I tried so hard never to mention him to her, but it was tough sometimes not to do so because first, he was my brother and second, I lived with him. “Damn it. I’m sorry, Krys.” When she ignored me, my frustrations came out. “I wish you’d just tell me what the hell went on with you two so I could stop pussyfooting around this shit all the time!”
She let out a huff as she drove then flipped her blond hair behind her shoulder, a clear sign she was annoyed.
“If you’d just tell me…” I repeated, hating that she was keeping secrets from me.
“I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” She shrugged. “Besides, he’s banging everyone and their dog nowadays, so it really doesn’t matter.”
“You know, I’d tell you if it were me,” I declared, a little pissed off that she was still holding on to it.
“I’ll tell you one day. It just still kinda…hurts.”
We were right back to the conversation we’d had so many times, so I dropped it. It only upset her and angered me, so yeah.
“So, I had a date last night,” she shared, thankfully changing the topic.
And this had become another routine of ours since she and Vic broke up—Krystal telling me about her disastrous dates then we’d laugh about them.
She was gorgeous with all her long, blond hair, blue eyes, bubbly personality and trim five-foot-five self, and it was a given she was going to get asked out. I just hated that she accepted almost every offer she received. But she assured me she was having fun and loved meeting new people, and she did come back with some very interesting stories, so no harm, no foul, I supposed.
Although I knew what she was really doing was searching for Vic’s replacement, just as I guessed he was trying to replace her with all the women he brought home, I was always willing to listen, hoping she might actually find someone who was good enough for her.
“Yeah?” I couldn’t help but smile knowing something bad was coming.
“This guy looked like Tom Austen from The Royals!” she said.
“Really? Jasper’s so hot!” I squealed, excited that maybe it’d been a good date for a change.
“Well, if Jasper had a bald spot and found out he’d reached his credit card limit when he went to pay for dinner.” She burst out laughing.
I giggled with her. “Oh, no. Not again.”
“I’m gonna go broke paying for all these dates,” she said with a snort.
As we pulled up to Colonial Manor, the nursing home where I’d worked for two years, I put my hand on the door handle and turned to her. “I’m always here for you. I’d never judge you, you know that, right?”
She tilted her head toward me as if to say Duh and answered, “I know you wouldn’t.”
“And I hope you find what you’re looking for,” I added.
At her melancholy look and knowing our conversation was over, I opened the door, grabbing my bag as I did. “Thanks again for the ride. One of these days, I’ll be rich and have a Mercedes and will be able to give you rides too.”
She chuckled. “I know you will. And I can’t wait.”
Chapter 2
“You could be such a beautiful girl, Holly. I just don’t understand why you don’t make yourself more presentable,” Mrs. Johnson—who I was sure came from money, her genteel affect clear as day as she looked at me disapprovingly—bemoaned as she patted my hand.
Then upon remembering she was too proper to show compassion, she removed her hand from mine using it to smooth her hair back toward the tight, white bun that sat neatly at the base of her neck. As she slicked her hair back, her head came up regally and sitting up straighter she looked me up and down, taking in my scrubs.
I got ready to sustain another round of criticism. Yay.
The good thing was, she was fourth from the last of my rounds of the day, so while I walked the wings, I had plenty of time to prepare for her less-than-flattering appraisals.
Finding her meds on the cart, I held back my snort knowing she would only chastise me if I let out such an unladylike sound. But the fact was, we had a similar conversation every day, her dementia making her think she was talking to her niece. Sad thing about it all was, everything she said to “Holly” usually hit home with me; therefore, I had to take her comments lightly because even though I felt I had a good balance of self-esteem, I might’ve become somewhat insecure since I was exposed to them on an almost-daily basis.
“There’s so much you could do.” She looked sympathetically at my auburn hair that was up in the usual ponytail. “Maybe if you did something with your hair, it would make you appear…prettier.”
I self-consciously grabbed my ponytail and ran my hand down it holding the cup out toward her.
“And a little bit of makeup wouldn’t hurt,” she said as an afterthought. Jeez.
Even though I knew she wasn’t speaking to me in particular, she was right. But, hell, I was working! Ugh.
I sighed, playing the part, looking down at the small paper cup I held in my hand that had her daily pills in it. “I know, Aunt Greta. You’re right.”
She smiled. “See? That’s a good start, Holly.”
I returned her smile as she took the small paper container which she tipped up to let the pills fall into her mouth. I next helped her hold her water cup so she could drink.
“Now, you go tell Robert he was a fool to ever let you go,” she advised with a definitive nod.
“I will,” I replied.
“That’s a good girl.” She handed me the pill dispenser.
I wadded it up and threw it away telling her goodbye and pushing the med cart out of her room, moved to Mr. Avery’s room next door.
“Hello, Oswald,” I said as I knocked before going inside. I knew he loved it when I called him by his first name because he’d asked me to do so a jillion times until I’d finally consented.
“Hi, Honor! My goodness, you’re looking lovely today!”
Ah. Much better.
“You’re not looking so bad yourself,” I replied with a grin. I loved that he was so sprightly and alert. And nice. We’d had many conversations ranging from whether the moon landing was real to when Lady Gaga’s next album would drop, regular visits from his teenage granddaughters helping to keep him in the loop of current events and the rest because he was sharp as a tack.
“I did twenty pushups today,” he bragged. “Tomorrow I’m going for twent
y-five!”
“Wow! Good for you! I doubt I could do even five,” I said with a snort as I held his cup out to him. I swore he was ninety-five going on thirty. “It’s time to take your vitamins.”
He took the cup pouring the pills into his mouth then taking the water, washed them down. “Ahhh!” he breathed out. “Good as new now.”
“That’s right,” I declared.
“The girls are coming tomorrow to challenge me in a two-on-one pickup basketball game,” he informed.
“Oh, I’m sure you can take them.”
“I averaged thirty-two points a game in college,” he said proudly.
“That’s awesome! I’ll bet you still have it too.”
He nodded. “Taught Annabeth everything she knows, especially about shooting. Now she’s averaging twenty-one. The last game they took me to, I got to see her score thirty-eight.”
“Dang!” I exclaimed. “Takes after her grandpa, doesn’t she?”
“That she does,” he answered with a smile.
“You figure out the first move yet?” I asked, nodding to his ever-present chessboard. He was constantly trying out new opening moves. When I had free time, which wasn’t very often, I tried coming in and playing a quick game with him.
“Not yet. You found your knight yet?” he asked with a grin. It’d become sort of a running joke between us when he’d once referred to the queen as “Pearl.” At my questioning look, he’d explained he meant his wife who’d passed away five years before. “Pearl was my queen,” he’d uttered, getting a wistful look. Then he’d told me I needed to hold out for my knight and one day he’d become my king.
I now smiled. “Not yet. I’m still waiting for him.”
“He’ll show, beautiful girl.”
I smiled. “Have a great day, Oswald. I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“Yes, you will,” he announced with a wink as he sat in his chair, settling in to study the board.
I continued on my rounds having only two more rooms to stop in, so glad that I had my CNA and had just gotten my certification to hand out medications the previous month. I now got to deliver meds to the patients who could administer them themselves, and I enjoyed seeing them every day. It also kept me from doing what I’d done previously which had involved feeding patients and changing diapers. I mean, I was okay with doing those things, it’s just that the latter hadn’t been too much fun and this was so much easier.
~*~*~*~*~
Thirty minutes before I got off work, Victor texted to let me know he’d pick me up. After finishing charts, I waited at the door then saw him ride up on his bike.
“Hey,” I said as I put on my helmet. “You take Betsy in?”
“Yep,” he answered.
My hands paused at the straps and I gave him a grouchy look. “And?”
He chuckled. “Tomorrow.”
“They say what’s wrong with her?”
“Carburetor.”
I rolled my eyes at his not-so-glib answers. “Good.” After getting on the bike, I asked, “They think they can fix her?”
“Yep,” he supplied as we took off.
My brother. A veritable fount of info.
~*~*~*~*~
“Hello?” I called inside the empty service area at Powers Automotive.
It was a quarter to six the next evening, and Vic had dropped me off telling me he had to get to work. So now there I stood in a deserted auto shop wondering if I was going to have to call a cab to get home. I’d seen my truck sitting outside the place but the keys hadn’t been in it.
As I looked around, I saw their hours posted on the wall showing they were open until six but no one was around. Great. Walking to a door and looking through the small window in it, I viewed the garage where a couple cars were up on hydraulics but no one was inside there either. Then thinking someone might be inside, I pushed opened the door and yelled out another hello but still got no answer.
“Damn it,” I mumbled as I let the door fall shut. Realizing I’d have to come back tomorrow and upon turning to go, I ran smack-dab into a hard wall of chest covered by a grease-stained denim shirt. “Shit!” I bit out with a jump. “You scared me!” My eyes traced up over broad shoulders, a strong Adam’s apple—can Adam’s apples even be strong?—,a chiseled stubble-covered jawline, before landing on the face of a freaking Greek god and my mouth dropped open.
Holy. Wow.
As I stood staring up at Mr. Hot Mechanic Dude, I watched in fascination as his golden eyes twinkled in amusement.
“I’m, uh, and I’m here to, uh,” I stammered trying to remember who I was and why I was there, the presence of this hottie suddenly making me inarticulate. Ergh.
One side of his mouth now drew up into a smirk and I saw his body shift a bit, as if he was used to this sort of reaction from women. Like he knew his good looks had me tongue-tied.
Well, check that. Mr. Hot Jerk Mechanic Dude.
While I stood there trying to get a handle on what I wanted to say, he wasn’t helping out one bit. Nope. All he did next was grin, and I knew he was waiting to see if a complete sentence might actually be able to form its way out of my stupid mouth.
Then he scanned my body with those honey-colored eyes of his winking at me after he finished his perusal.
Double check that. Mr. Hot Bastard Mechanic Dude.
Oh. Goody.
I took a deep breath then looking to his side, focused on a calendar on the wall, one that had a girl in a barely-there bikini splayed across the hood of a car, my thoughts being that if his gorgeousness wasn’t all up in my face, I might be able to speak correctly. “My brother dropped off my truck yesterday. It’s sitting outside so I think it’s ready?”
“Eyes here, sweetheart,” I heard him command quietly.
Blinking away from the calendar thinking I must’ve misunderstood him, I looked up to see the smuggest look ever settled right there on his handsome face.
“Excuse me?” I questioned testily.
“Were you speakin’ to me?” he asked, eyebrows raised, his look getting even more superior, if that could be believed.
I frowned and couldn’t help snapping, “Since you’re the only other person here, I guess I am.”
He laughed low. “Figured that one out all on your own, did ya?”
Huh. He really was a jerk. And I pegged him for exactly who he was. He was one of those pretty boys who knew it. I’d seen my own brother act this way—evasive, cocky—with women and had laughed at them for falling for it. Well, I wasn’t like them. I had this under control, piece of cake. Easy peasy.
Or so I thought.
Indifference washed over me and a bored look covered my face as I said, “Is my truck ready or not?”
“Is it in the garage?” he questioned, eyebrow raised. When I shook my head, he asked, “It sitting outside?”
“Yep,” I drawled, popping the P at the end of the word.
“Then I’d say, yep, it’s ready.” He mocked me by popping the P too, and the arrogant look he gave me had me gritting my teeth.
More than ready to go home—and wanting to get away from this pompous ass—I asked with a sigh, “How much do I owe?”
“No charge,” he concluded, holding out his palm which held my keys.
My eyes narrowed suspiciously as I echoed, “No charge?”
He grinned. “You heard correctly.”
I huffed out a breath. “May I ask why?”
“You sure can.”
Crickets.
God.
I now full-on glared at him tired of his ridiculous way of communicating. “Why?”
He chuckled. “It’s an old carburetor. We’ve got plenty of them around the shop.”
He still hadn’t explained why I didn’t have to at least pay for labor.
“And?” I prompted, more than aggravated now.
He shrugged. “And…no charge.”
I crossed my arms on my chest. “I can’t not pay you.”
He crossed his arms too.
“Only took about thirty minutes.”
Ooookay. Because that explained it all.
I employed his silent act, looking at him until he was finally forced to continue. “Carburetors are simple. No charge.”
My brow wrinkled for a moment as I thought it over. Not paying didn’t sit well with me because if I’d learned anything from watching my mother, I knew that you never got something for nothing since each of my stepdads seemed to have come with a fricking price. So making a decision, I reached into my purse, grabbed my wallet and pulling out my debit card held it out toward him, shaking my head. “I can’t.”
I saw the annoyance in his eyes that threatened to overthrow his smartass demeanor for just a moment until the cockiness returned. “You can hold that thing out there all night long, sweetheart; not gonna do you any good.”
Dang it! I bit the inside of my lip wondering if this was too good to be true as I reluctantly put my wallet away. I crossed my arms again still not good with not having to pay, but if I didn’t have to, that meant I’d have some extra spending cash for the week which made me want to smile.
Until he spoke again.
“Plus, you’ve got a great rack.” He canted his head to the side, mockingly biting his lip, as his eyes dropped to my chest before coming back up to meet mine. “So, yeah, no charge.”
My arms fell to my sides at the same time my mouth unlatched and just hung open. When the shock subsided a bit, I whispered, “Did you really just say that?”
“Yep.” More popping—jerk!—then he gave me a smirk and grabbing one of my hands pulled it up and placed the keys in it. “I’m assuming you’re smart enough to find your way out?” he said, jerking his head toward the front door. He turned and went out into the garage leaving me alone in the service area.
I stood there staring at the garage door as it closed, mouth still agape. Then shaking myself out of the stupor I was in, I mumbled, “Asshole,” before leaving.
Chapter 3
“That guy at Powers is a jerk!” I spit into my phone which was on speaker as I drove home.
Victor laughed. “Which one was it?”
Drake (The Powers That Be, Book 5) Page 2
