by Ali Parker
Once the chicken and vegetable casserole was in the oven I did a quick clean of the kitchen and living room, and then started going through the boxes in the dining room. We had a dinner party coming up this weekend to mingle with all of Vince’s new colleagues and we would need every inch of space we had. These boxes would have to be unpacked by then.
Most of them were filled with plates and other dishes I’d inherited from my mom and dad and couldn't bring myself to part with. The plates we ate Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner on every year, the cups I used when I brought a glass of water to bed every night when I was a young girl, the salt and pepper shakers that always sat in the middle of the kitchen table in our old country home. They were nothing more than boxes of memories.
Vince got home just after six. He called a cheery hello down the hall and I hurried out of the dining room and into the kitchen, where I pulled the casserole out of the oven and set it on the island on a cooling rack.
Vince came around the corner as I tucked the oven mitts back in the drawer. He leaned over the casserole and nodded. “Looks good, babe. Smells good too. New recipe?”
I nodded. “I found it online and thought we could give it a try. If you don’t like it we’ll scratch it from the record.”
“Alright,” he nodded. “If you get our plates ready I’ll meet you back down here. I want to get out of this suit and get comfortable.”
“But I like the suit,” I winked.
He didn’t laugh, but he gave me a small smile that revealed his dimples. “Did you want to change too, babe? That shirt—I don’t know if it’s doing you any favors.”
I looked down at the sheer white button up I had on over a white tank. “Oh.”
“I mean, its fine, I guess. Maybe it’s just me. Forget I said anything.”
“I’ll change after.”
Vince nodded and left to go upstairs and change. “Alright. Can’t wait to dig in!”
I stood in front of the kitchen island and stared down at my white button up shirt. For some reason all I could think about was the biker from that afternoon and what he’d said. What had his words been again?
‘It would be a shame to damage a body like that.’
What had he even meant? At the time I’d thought it was a sexual comment. But that had been foolish thinking on my part. There was too much squish—too much flesh in general—for a man like him to look at me and feel anything even remotely close to desire.
Vince struggled with it all the time, so I would know. And I knew how I felt about my own reflection.
I must have misunderstood the bad boy biker in all his leather and buckles and riding boots and—
I shook my head. Stop thinking about him, Cheryl. He was an ass. And he didn’t think you were cute. You just wish he did.
I ran my fingers through my hair and did what was expected of me. I prepared our plates, making sure mine had half the amount of food on it, and set them on the kitchen island in front of our stools along with a glass of wine for him and water for me. I’d had my wine before dinner and two glasses was far too many calories. I had to maintain control over my intake if I wanted to see any progress, and this new life in New York City was the best chance I was going to get for a new start and fresh habits.
I sat down and waited for Vince. He took his time and the casserole dish sat there, begging me to grab my fork and steal a couple extra bites from the pan.
I ran my hands down my thighs and strained my ears to listen for Vince coming down the stairs.
I heard nothing, so I plucked my fork from where it rested beside my half full plate and skewered a couple pieces of chicken and potato and broccoli from the pan before popping it in my mouth and hurrying to chew like a six year old girl stealing cookies from the jar.
I swallowed, made sure my fork was inconspicuously licked clean, and set it back down beside my plate just before Vince’s footsteps came down the stairs.
He returned in a pair of jeans and a black T shirt. He’d run his hands through his thick auburn hair, making it look a little tousled. He looked handsome in a suit, but I liked him best like this, a little undone and disheveled after a hard work day.
He slid onto the stool beside me, picked up his wine, and took a long sip. Then he smacked his lips and set it down before inspecting his plate. “Looks good, babe.”
We dug in. He nodded in appreciation or pleasure, I couldn’t tell, and I ignored the way his utensils scraped on the dishes—something he did every meal despite how it made my teeth itch.
I finished first and drank my water while he cleaned his plate. I had to tell him about the car, and there was no good way for me to bring it up. I’d spent the better half of the afternoon playing the conversation over in my head, trying to figure out the best approach, and came up empty. I was just going to have to put it out there and hope for the best.
I started slow.
“How was your day, baby?”
Vince nodded as he chewed and swallowed his last bite of casserole. After washing it down with a sip of wine he said, “Good. Went for drinks with the guys again. They’re all coming for dinner this Saturday. That’s another six or so people.”
I bit my bottom lip. “No problem. I’ll make it work. We want to make a good impression with our home.”
He smiled. “I love that I don’t have to tell you these things. You just know.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” I said, leaning in and taking his empty plate away and walking our dishes over to the sink. I rinsed them off before loading them in the dishwasher, and after closing the door put my back to the counter and leaned against it. “But there is something that happened today I have to tell you about. First of all, I’m fine, and it wasn’t a big deal, it just scared me a bit.”
Vince put his wine down before taking his last sip. “What happened?”
He hated when I chewed the inside of my cheek when I was nervous, so I deliberately forced myself not to. I played with a loose thread on the back pocket of my jeans instead. “I took the Mercedes out to sort of get the lay of the land in the neighborhood and some guy in a truck rear ended me.”
Vince stood up. “What the fuck, Cheryl? Why didn’t you tell me right when I got home?”
“I didn’t see what difference it would make and I wanted you to have a chance to relax after work-”
“Jesus Christ. Do you know how much that car fucking cost?”
“Yes. I was there when you bought it.”
“Are you getting smart with me?”
I pursed my lips and shook my head.
Vince let out a frustrated sigh, turned around, and marched out of the kitchen and down the hall to the entranceway. I heard him open and promptly slam the garage door.
I followed.
When I stepped into the garage he was bent over running his hand along the bumper of my car. His face was pinched in a scowl and he was shaking his head while muttering, “This is just my fucking luck. Brand new fucking car and she goes and gets it banged up. Should have bought a used Civic or some shit.”
I stayed up near the front of the car. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
He looked up at me. “Do you not look in your rear view when you’re driving?”
“Of course I do. But I was stopped at a light and—”
“And let me guess. You had your music blaring?”
“No,” I snapped, a little too quickly.
He arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
I resumed playing with the loose thread on my pocket. “Okay. Fine. I had my music on. But I was in the middle lane. Even if I saw him coming there was nowhere I could go. I would have had to let him hit me. And it wasn’t a hard hit. It was more of a love tap.” There were other words running through my mind, but I didn’t dare say them. Shouldn’t your first thought have been to ask if I was hurt? That’s what the sexy biker wanted to know first. And he’s a schmuck. But those words remained sealed in the back of my throat.
Vince straightened up a
nd scratched his jaw. “Well. It’s done now. I’ll call around tomorrow and find a shop to fix this. Do you have the driver’s insurance information?”
I shook my head, and before Vince could raise his voice to me, which was seconds from happening, I blurted out, “I had a witness who knows an auto body guy. He gave me a reference and said they would give us a discount and he would fill out an accident report if need be.”
Vince nodded. “Alright. Well at least someone was paying attention.”
Yeah. Thank God for the hot biker, I thought sourly.
Vince didn’t look at me as he walked back to the garage door. “Leave me a note on the kitchen counter in the morning with the guy’s information and the number for the auto shop. I’ll call and book an appointment to take this in.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going out. Don’t wait up.”
Vince opened the garage door and let it close behind him. I heard him leave through the front door seconds later and stood there, wishing that jerk had never hit me, wishing I never had to have this talk with Vince, and wishing he wasn’t going to go blow off steam in a pub or strip club or someone else’s pussy.
It was a vulgar thought, but it was a thought nonetheless.
I unbuttoned my white shirt and threw it in the garbage beside the garage door on my way out.
Chapter 5
Aiden
I popped by Axel’s body shop on Wednesday and was surprised to find him running a waxing cloth over the back end of the pearl white Mercedes owned by none other than the very sexy Cheryl from yesterday morning.
He looked up when I ducked under the open bay door and plunged into the shade and cool air in the shop. Fans were blowing outward to keep the hot air out and the AC unit was running.
“Why don’t you just close the doors?” I asked, nodding up at the open bays.
Axel inspected his shine job on the rear end of the Mercedes. Satisfied with the immaculate level of shine, he tucked the rag in the back pocket of his coveralls and folded his arms over his chest. “The customer is coming by and I’m going to pull this baby out into the sun. He’s a real piece of work, this guy, and I want this thing out of my shop. Thanks for the referral, you dick.”
“How was I supposed to know the guy would be a jerk?”
Axel smirked. “Mercedes. Hot wife. Do the math, Aiden.”
“Girlfriend,” I corrected.
Axel rolled his eyes. “Right. Girlfriend.”
“When is he coming to pick it up?”
“Should be here within the next fifteen or so. Want to stick around and get a preview for yourself?”
“Naturally,” I mused.
I couldn’t deny that I was curious. Cheryl had captured my interest right away and I wanted to meet the man she went home to every day. Or who came home to her.
Axel and I moved to the back of the shop where the air was the coolest and leaned up against the workbenches. To our right was the office door, behind which I could hear Ellie, Axel’s woman, and Jamie the receptionist, giggling away. I nodded at the door. “Sounds like they’re having a good time.”
“Planning a beach day, I believe,” Axel said.
“How are the kids?”
Axel's mile broadened. “Good. Things are a bit chaotic with the renovations at the house, but we’re making it work. Every night is like a sleepover because they have to sleep on the sofa in the living room while the extension is being added. Their bedrooms are all torn apart.”
What cruel punishment. A slumber party in your living room every night. “Sounds fun.”
“It was for the first week. But now? I’m over it.”
I chuckled. The truth always came out where Axel was concerned. He pushed himself off the workbench and took his coveralls off to get in the Mercedes and pull it out into the sunshine in the parking lot. It lit up brilliantly as the sun caught the gold and blue flakes of the pearlescent paint. He stepped out, closed the door, and joined me in the shop.
I was about to wander into the office to say hello to Jamie and Ellie when a black Range Rover pulled into the parking lot and came to a short stop beside the Mercedes.
Axel caught my eye. “Here we go.”
“Be nice,” I said as I hung back by the workbench, still leaned up against it. I watched from the shade as a tall, broad shouldered man with auburn hair stepped out of the SUV. He had on a pair of gold aviators, a gray fitted suit, and brown dress shoes that made his feet look a little too large for his body.
The man adjusted his suit jacket as he walked around the Mercedes and came to a stop at the back bumper. He nodded, crouched down, and ran his hand over Axel’s wax job.
“Looks good to me,” he said in a clipped, deep voice.
Axel stood beside him and nodded as he slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Good. It was shallow damage. The truck didn’t hit her that hard.”
My eye was drawn from them to the passenger door of the Range Rover as Cheryl stepped out in all her glory.
I wasn’t sure how it was possible, but somehow she looked even better today than she had yesterday. Her blonde hair was drawn up in a messy bun. Loose slightly curly strands hung around her face and I watched in fascination as she pulled a piece free from where it had stuck to her pink lip gloss.
The summer dress she had on was pastel yellow, showing off her tan and her legs and her pink painted toes. Gold sandals caught the sun with every step she took as she walked over to Axel and her boyfriend.
I lacked the will to hang back now that she was on the scene.
Pushing off the workbench, I went and joined them at the back of the Mercedes.
Even though Cheryl had on a pair of black sunglasses and I couldn’t see her eyes, I knew she was glaring at me—and it titillated me.
The boyfriend rocked back on his heels. “So you couldn’t have detailed the interior while you were at it, huh?”
Axel flashed him his standard ‘I work in customer service and hate pricks like you’ smile. “If you threw in another hundred bucks I’d be happy to get one of my boys to give her a once over for you, Mr. Price.”
Mr. Price. The name suited him. I was sure Cheryl paid a high price spending every day with him.
Mr. Price’s smile was smug as he glanced at Cheryl. “Nah. It’s all good. Right babe?”
Cheryl gave a weak nod and avoided making eye contact with both me and Axel. “Right. Thank you for the work you did. It looks brand new.”
“Not a problem, miss. That’s what we do here,” Axel said.
Mr. Price put an arm around Cheryl’s waist. “Why don’t you head home, babe?”
“I thought we were going to stop and grab a coffee or something. I can wait—”
“No. Go home. I’m going to talk shop with these boys for a bit.”
I didn’t like how he referred to us as boys, and I really didn’t like the tone he used when he spoke to Cheryl. She looked at her feet, nodded, and walked around the front end of her car. Axel handed her the keys and she thanked him meekly.
Then she got in the car, started it up, and backed into the parking lot before turning out onto the road. Part of me hoped she’d give me one last look before she pulled away. But a girl like her didn’t have eyes for a guy like me. Not in this reality anyway. She had eyes for assholes like Mr. Price who dazzled her with fancy cars, bracelets and shoes—all for show, and to make up for his shitty behavior.
After she was gone Mr. Price pulled his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out three hundred in cash. He slapped it into Axel’s hand. “Here you are, boys. Three hundred bucks. Gotta say, I’m glad I was referred to you. This would have cost a lot more if I’d gone somewhere else.”
“You’re correct,” Axel said.
“I just have to take it out of Cheryl’s allowance,” Mr. Price chuckled.
I avoided looking at Axel for fear of our expressions giving our thoughts away. He was a paying customer after all, and it wasn’t my place to go making enemies with him. I
wasn’t going to be the guy who created trouble and damaged Axel’s business.
Mr. Price shrugged and pulled another fifty bucks out of his wallet. “For your troubles. I’ll let people know about you, man. You have a good business here and I know people in high places who could really line your pockets.”
“I’ve got plenty of clients,” Axel said.
“I’m sure you do. But who doesn’t want more?”
Axel kept his mouth shut.
Mr. Price, however, just kept talking. “You know, they shouldn’t let women behind the wheel. You give ‘em an inch and they take a damn mile. I get Cheryl her dream car and she fucks it up within a week. Unbelievable.”
I cleared my throat. “It wasn’t her fault.”
Mr. Price turned his brown eyes to me. “And who are you?”
“I’m the guy who saw the accident and referred you to this shop. I’m Cheryl’s witness.”
“Of course you are,” Mr. Price said under his breath. He shook his head. “Look man, I appreciate you stepping up. We would have been fucked without you. I don’t know what she was thinking not getting the guy’s information. She wouldn’t have even got his plate number if you weren’t looking out.”
“She was rattled,” I said.
“He didn’t hit her very hard.”
“It still shook her up,” I said.
Axel nudged me in the ribs to shut me up.
My tone and obvious displeasure with the words he was saying went right over Mr. Price’s head and he chuckled. “Can I confess something to you boys? I almost wish the bastard had hit her a bit harder. Whiplash can be a pretty big payday.”
Mr. Price was the only one laughing. His lack of self-awareness would have been amusing if he hadn’t just joked about wishing his girl had been hurt so he could line his already very deep pockets with more cash.
“Thanks for your service, Axel. Hopefully Cheryl doesn’t crash again and I don’t need to come back here any time soon.”
He walked back to his Range Rover, got in, and drove off —in the opposite direction Cheryl had gone.
Axel looked over at me. “Thoughts?”
