Mustang Sassy

by Daire St. Denis

  “For what happened?” Al grinned, but his smile wasn’t friendly. “That sounds like it was an accident—you sneaking around and taking advantage of one of our employees in the worst possible way. That ain’t no accident.”

  Jordan felt the same way he’d felt when he was ten years old and Blake would hold his arms while Brandon used him for a punching bag. He coughed and said, “Yeah. Well, I’m sorry about that.”

  “I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Jordan said, “I know. But Sass won’t give me the time of day.”

  Al shrugged. “Can’t blame her.” He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee. Then he glanced out the window. “So, you’re here to work, huh?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I guess you’re going to need something to do, then?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “What did you do at Carlyle’s?”

  Jordan cleared his throat. Time to tell the truth about his job at the family business. “Payroll, customer satisfaction follow-ups, some HR stuff.” He wished he could add design to that list. But there was no way that was ever going to happen now.

  “Office stuff?”

  “Mostly.”

  “You ever clean a car before?”

  “Clean? You mean detail?”

  Al shook his head. “No, I mean ‘clean.’” He pointed out the window. “See that Model A coupe shell out in the yard?”

  Jordan followed Al’s finger. There were a number of old wrecks out in the back of Hogan’s, but the one Al was pointing at had weeds and thistle growing up around it. It was so rusted and dilapidated, it looked like roadkill after all the carrion eaters were done with it. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Take a sander and a brush and clean it. Get all the crap off it so we know what we got to work with.”

  Clearing his throat again, Jordan asked, “You sure there isn’t anything else you need?”

  “From you?” Al sipped his coffee and shook his head. “Nope.”

  …

  Sass’s head was swimming, Mary-Lynn’s voice seemed far away and everything was all fuzzy like she was stuck underwater. She set her head down on the bar and took a few deep breaths.

  “I think it’s time to get you home, doll.”

  “Huh?” Sass glanced at the woman sitting beside her. Her hair was perfect. Her makeup? Not one smudge. Her eyes were bright but not glassy. “How come you’re not drunk?” Sass slurred.

  “Sweets, you’re looking at Tri-Delta’s ‘Shoot it or Lose it’ four-time champion, 1988-92.”

  “You were in a sorority?”

  “Yep. Go, Gators, Go.”

  “Of course you were.” Sass slithered off her stool to the sound of Mary-Lynn’s laughter. Which didn’t make any sense because Sass had just insulted her. Or, tried to, anyway. But in the midst of it, Sass found herself held up by Mary-Lynn’s tiny arms. She moved her away. “I can walk by myself.”

  “I’m sure you can, but despite how I look, I need a little help.”

  With reluctance, Sass let Mary-Lynn take her arm. “Who’s gonna drive? I don’t think you should.” Sass tried to point at Mary-Lynn but her finger missed.

  “Let’s walk. It can’t be far, and it’ll do us good.”

  Sass snickered. “You? Walk? It’s two miles at least.”

  “You think I don’t know how to walk? I used to run the mile in college.”

  “You were on the track team?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  Sass stared at Mary-Lynn. But her face swam in and out of focus. “But you’re so…”

  “So, what?”

  “So…I don’t know. You don’t look like an athlete.”

  Mary-Lynn shrugged and headed for the door. “Well, it was a few years ago. I don’t know if I’d call myself an athlete anymore. But I do try to follow Coco’s philosophy.” Once at the door, Mary-Lynn called and waved to Sam, “Thanks, sweets! We had a lovely time.”

  Sam chuckled and called back, “You need a ride home?”

  “Oh, we’re fine. Sass, here, is going to walk me. Aren’t you, doll?”

  “Sure, why not.” Sass helped Mary-Lynn, or Mary-Lynn helped Sass—Sass wasn’t sure which it was—out into the bright sunshine, which was weird. Sass had never been tipsy in the middle of the day before. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. Way too bright. The brightness made Sass squint which just made her head feel even more swimmy.

  They weaved across the parking lot and Sass asked, “So, who’s Coco?”

  Mary-Lynn stopped, regarding her with wide eyes. “Coco Chanel, who else?”

  “Of course.” Sass made a derisive sound at the back of her throat. “So, what’s her philosophy?”

  Smiling with her straight white teeth peeking out between her lips, Mary-Lynn said, “A girl should be two things, doll. Classy and fabulous.”

  Sass snorted and started walking again. “The very things I am not.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  Sass stopped walking and stood stock-still.

  “Sugar? What’s wrong? You going to be sick?”

  Sass wavered on the sidewalk at the edge of the parking lot certain she must be seeing things. She no longer heard Mary-Lynn chattering beside her. All she could hear was the pounding of the blood between her temples. Parked across the street, at the Burger Baron, was a bright red ’57 Chevy with unmistakable flames licking up the front and sides of it. Flames that bore an awful resemblance to the ones tattooed across her backside.

  “Sass, honey? You okay?”

  “I’ll be right back,” Sass said.

  Without even looking for cars, she stumbled across the street, half walking, half running. A car honked and slammed on its brakes to avoid hitting her, but Sass didn’t pay any attention. Her focus was solely and completely on the car. It was like a dream, seeing that car again. The car that inspired her tattoo. The car that inspired the red paint job for the Corvette. The first car she’d ever had sex in.

  Once she stood beside it, she couldn’t help herself. She ran her hand along the rear fin, the polished chrome. Her hand started to shake as she traced the flames licking along the passenger door.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

  Sass looked up to see a man hurrying back to his car with a Burger Baron bag clutched in his hand. He was big, but not as big as Jordan. Where before he’d always been fit, now his stomach hinted at a paunch and his longish blond hair needed to be washed.

  “Sass?”

  “Dex. Long time no see.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Dex’s gaze trailed up and down her body. “Sass Hogan. My, my. What are you doing here?”

  “What do you think I’m doing here? I live here. The question is, what the hell are you doing here?”

  He grinned. It was that grin that had always been her undoing. Dex Whelan had the ability to go from appearing greasy and dangerous to desirable and charming in one simple gesture. “Hell, I never planned to come back.” He dropped the bag of food on the roof of the car and came around the hood to stand beside her. To look down at her. “I guess I just couldn’t stay away.”

  He touched a strand of her hair, but Sass slapped his hand away. “How’s your wife?”

  His grin disappeared for all of three seconds. “Well, we couldn’t seem to patch things up. Y’know?” He stepped closer again and his voice dropped in volume. “Things ended between us a long time ago.”

  “So, she finally saw the light, did she?” Sass bit out.

  “Mmm. Just as fiery as I remember.”

  “What are you doing here, Dex?”

  The grin never left his face as he watched her with an unholy sparkle in his eyes. “Do you remember what it was like? Late nights at the shop? Shaping metal? Planning a project together?”

  “Answer my question.”

  Instead of answering, he moved closer and cupped the side of her face. “Don’t you remember me drawin
g those flames on your back? Taking you to town to get the ink? Hell, Sass, we were good together, weren’t we?”

  Sass pushed his hand away and stumbled out of his reach. “Don’t touch me.”

  “C’mon, Sass. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of me.” His grin stretched all the way across his face, making him appear almost boyish. “I’ve sure thought of you. Lots. This time I’m going to do things right by you. I promise.”

  “Oh no you’re not, Dex. Not with me.”

  …

  The next day Jordan opened the front door of Hogan’s to find all hell breaking loose. It appeared as if Sass was on a rampage—again—and that Buck was the brunt of her anger this time. Jordan hadn’t planned on eavesdropping. His intention was to slip through the shop so he could get to work. But then he heard Sass shout, “You’re considering selling the shop to that asshole? How could you?”

  “I told you, I haven’t decided yet.”

  “We’re talking about Dex here, Buck.”

  “Yeah, Dex made some mistakes. But, Sass, we’ve all made mistakes.”

  Dex Whelan? They were arguing over Dex Whelan, a virtual magician with cars—the asshole from Sass’s past?

  Jordan grabbed a stained mug from the shelf and took his time pouring some black sludge into it. This was a conversation he had to hear.

  “But you can’t sell him the shop.”

  “He’s offered a fair price. A really fair price. Plus, he’s offered me shares. He’ll keep the shop here. You could stay on.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “I’m not condoning his behavior, but he’s the best body worker there is, and you know it. Don’t forget what he brought to the shop. What he taught you. And Carlos. Hell, Hogan’s could be the biggest name in classic-car restoration and construction in the country.” Buck caught Jordan’s eye and he narrowed his gaze as he tried to lower his voice to keep the conversation between the two of them. Fat chance with a couple of Hogans.

  “A man deserves a second chance,” Buck continued, his voice carrying all the way across the shop.

  Jordan waited for Sass’s angry reply. When she didn’t say a word, he couldn’t help looking up from where he was pretending to doctor his coffee to glance at her. She stood staring out the shop window. Her face was as stony as a Mount Rushmore president. Buck approached her and tried to whisper, “It’s a business decision. It’s not personal.”

  With flashing eyes she glared up at her dad and said, “Yeah? Well it’s personal to me.” Buck took hold of her elbow and guided her into his office. Then he shut the door, cutting off the conversation.

  So, Whelan was offering Buck shares in the shop. He’d have to mention that to his dad. With his gloves stuck in his back pocket, he grabbed some more cleaning supplies and headed back outside to sand the car shell, wondering if Buck had intended for him to overhear that part of the conversation.

  …

  “Do you think he bought it?” Sass asked.

  “Of course he bought it. Didn’t you see how long it was taking him to pour his coffee?” Buck said.

  Sass scuffed her boot against the concrete floor. “I still wish you didn’t have to sell.”

  Buck sat down heavily. “I know. If I could do it without selling, I would. But it’s my retirement. I’m an old-fashioned guy. I can’t live off a woman’s income. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “I know.” They’d had a long talk yesterday after she’d given Buck the gears about entertaining the thought of selling the shop to Dex Whelan. Buck explained how Dex had gotten wind of the sale and come to town, only contacting Buck that morning. He assured Sass that there was no way in hell he’d ever sell to Dex, but he would use him to up the ante with the other prospective buyers. At least Buck had made things clear that he wouldn’t make a decision without her input. She’d argued that he’d let Jordan, the traitor, hang out at the shop without her input. But Buck had explained how he wanted to use Jordan to filter info back to his dad.

  “I’m not moving to Denver,” Sass said, fiddling with the frayed cuff of her coveralls.

  “I’m not necessarily selling to Carlyle’s.”

  ”Who else is there?”

  “Gerry at Goodstone’s is still interested, and he said he’d keep the shop intact.”

  “Then let’s go with him.” She flicked her chin toward the closed door. “Then we can get rid of shithead.”

  “You’d move to Boulder to work for Gerry?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Buck drummed his fingers on his desk. “Let’s give it a few days. Okay? I’ve always liked Stew.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’m wondering if maybe you need to let the Carlyle boy explain himself.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “What he did? Not cool. But you ought to at least give him the chance to explain.”

  Sass grunted in reply. Fat chance. She made Buck promise the minute Jordan did something she didn’t like, he’d punt him.

  “You know, everyone makes mistakes, Sass. Everyone.” It was the second time Buck had made the comment. What was he referring to? Her fuckups? Jordan’s? Or his?

  Two hours later, with the sun beating down on her head, Sass stopped sanding and brushing the Chevy shell. Although the October mornings hinted fall was on its way, the afternoons were unseasonably warm. More like summer than fall. Sass peeled off her coveralls, unable to stand the heat, and glanced off to her right to where the Model A was sitting.

  It was like Jordan could sense her staring because he looked up and caught her glance. Then, much to her dismay, he moved closer.

  “What do you want, Michaels?” Sass asked, hands on hips.

  “It’s Carlyle.”

  “Right.” She made a harsh sound. “How could I forget?” She pulled her gloves off her hands, wiping them down her pants. “So, what is it?”

  “I just…you seem to be making way more progress with that Chevy than I am with the Model A. I’ve never cleaned a car before and I was wondering if you could give me some tips.”

  “It’s not rocket science,” she muttered and turned around so she wouldn’t have see those eyes that matched the color of the sky. Idiot.

  But Jordan didn’t leave. He stayed right where he was. Her toe tapped in her boot. Her previously smooth strokes of the brush were faster and more erratic. Finally she stood and said through clenched teeth, “We have nothing to say to each other. Now, get back to work, Carlyle.”

  “You have to talk to me sometime, Sass.”

  “No,” Sass said. “I don’t.”

  If Jordan stood there for one more second, Sass was pretty sure she’d snap. For real. She tried to focus on the Chevy, she really did, but with him there, it was near impossible. She could smell him. The sun and sweat made his scent—that spicy cologne of his—even more pungent and brought to mind every time she’d been with him, every time he’d been hot and sweaty.

  She was ready to bark at him again and to tell him to go away when he finally left on his own. What the hell did he think he could accomplish here? Working with her wasn’t going to change things. There was no way she’d let Buck sell the shop to Carlyle’s, no way she’d move to Denver and be stuck in a shop with him. No way.

  Sass took her aggression out on the shell in front of her, sanding for all she was worth. But even though Jordan was across the yard, she swore she could still smell him and feel the warmth from his skin radiating toward her.

  Finally, she gave up. She threw the sander on the ground and stomped across the yard into the shop almost running into Carlos. “Excuse me,” she said through clenched teeth.

  It was as if she’d said some magic incantation and turned him to stone, leaving him with his mouth open in surprise. Sass ignored him, grabbed her wallet and the keys for the Camaro and crossed through to reception where Alice was filing her nails. “I’m going for lunch.”

  “Right oh.”

  But Sass didn’t feel like hitting the Pit again. She’d had enough of t
hat place for a while. She also didn’t feel like being alone. She took a detour down Main Street and parked in front of the Pharmasave. She’d just pop in and see if Libby was available for lunch. In the past she would have hopped out, probably even left the car running. Not anymore. She turned off the ignition to the Camaro and pocketed the keys. This might be Greenview, but Sass wasn’t taking any chances. She’d learned her lesson.

  However, the girl at the till wasn’t Libby. Her name was Cheryl or something. Sass could never remember.

  “Libby’s on leave.”

  “On leave?”

  “Yeah,” the girl lowered her voice. “Stress leave.”

  Dazed, Sass wandered back to the Camaro, got in and drove slowly over to Libby’s condo. Why the hell would Libby be on stress leave? Libby? She was never stressed. What the hell was going on?

  Sass half expected no one to answer the door and she was just about to leave when Libby appeared, looking tired and worn-out. “Hey, Sass, what’s up?”

  “I was just about to ask the same thing.”

  Glancing once behind her into the dark condo, Libby whispered, “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “Nothing? They said you were on stress leave.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not me. It’s my mom. She’s not doing very well.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Libby’s smile was tired. “It’s the depression. She’s taken herself off her meds. She’s staying with me for a bit. When she gets like this she…well, she doesn’t like being left alone.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” Libby’s mom had been sick a while back, but she hadn’t realized it was depression. How were there still so many things about Libby she didn’t know? “Is there anything I can do?”

  “You?” Libby chuckled as if Sass had made a joke.

  “Really. Can I help or something?”

  Scrunching her nose, Libby said, “No, Sass. I’m fine.” She glanced behind her again and then whispered, “Look. I gotta go.”

  Sass stayed on the stoop for a few minutes after the door had shut behind Libby. She just stared and blinked. And then slowly, walked back to the Camaro and drove back to the shop.

  …

  While he sanded, Jordan snuck glimpses of Sass from across the yard. After her lunch break she’d come back out into the yard but she’d given up working. She just sat in the passenger seat of the Chevy shell she’d been sanding and stared across the yard to the vacant lot next door. For more than an hour, she didn’t move. Some strange urge prickled at the base of Jordan’s neck at he watched her and his fingers twitched, calling out for the lead of his pencils.