by Shey Stahl
“Make sure you replace both sides, so she doesn’t have to come back a month from now for the same thing.”
“Yeah well, thanks for the advice, but like I said earlier, I know what I’m doing.” Jesus, I’m being a jerk too.
Amused, Red gives me a nod from his position against his toolbox and moves to stand over an engine block that was open in his stall. Below him, various parts are scattered around the hoist it’s perched on, and I can see he’s in the middle of a big job. “Sure you do, princess.” And then he winks because he thinks it’s funny. I wonder if he’d think it’s funny if he had a screwdriver shoved up his ass.
Ha! Now that would be funny.
I look back at Raven. “Your brother is great.”
She knows I’m being sarcastic and stifles a laugh with her hand. “Oh yeah. He’s a real gem.”
I FINISH THE rattle job, my shoulders so tight with agitation I feel a headache is coming on. I’m counting down the minutes until this day is over.
I pull the Explorer into the parking lot and start walking back inside when I see Red again.
“Finish filling this out.” Red all but throws my tax form at me that I quickly filled out this morning.
Hey, Lenny would you mind finishing filling this out?
Sure, Red, not a problem.
How fucking hard is that?
But I’m learning there’s no asking with Red. Only demands.
I glance down at the paper. My fingertips brushing over the white paper leaves smears from the grease on my hands. And then I look up at him. “I did fill it out.”
He steps toward me, his voice lowering. “You left the marital status blank.”
“Does it matter?” I interrupt, confused and annoyed.
His eyes run over my face, and I wonder if he’s looking for something. “Yeah, it matters. Look, if it’s on the form, it needs to be filled out. You got a problem with that, take it up with the IRS,” he rattles off.
Standing this close, much closer than I need to be, I can see for the first time not only how dark his brown eyes are, but that they have gold in them, around the outside as if to highlight their beauty. I find myself getting lost in the liquid depths, wondering what secrets he has because I know they’re in there. Nobody as crass and arrogant as him gets away clean without having some sort of demons in his closet. I wonder what past pain is hidden behind those long lashes, and if it’s as fucked-up as mine.
After getting a good look, I do have one assessment.
I don’t like his eyes. Don’t get me wrong, they’re beautiful. But that’s the problem. And they’re inquisitive, like he knows I’ve got a story of my own to tell and he’s trying to figure it out. I also can’t help but wonder when he’s looking at me, if he’s judging me. Like he’s certain I can’t do this job and that inside, I’m weak.
Both are wrong.
I break his gaze and look at the tax form in my hand. What I don’t like is that marital status question. Is it any of their business if I have a husband? A soon to be ex-husband.
Red walks away from me, so I take the tax form into the office and quickly mark the box that says separated.
“Red said you needed this,” I tell the lady I assume is Red’s mom, who is sitting at the desk, only to turn quickly and head back to the shop. Tyler had said his mom was the bookkeeper, and the last thing I want right now is to deal with his mom. Mostly because I’m afraid I’ll ask her if she dropped him on his head as a child.
Thinking back to the tax form, I wonder what this guy’s deal is. Do I go around asking his marital status? Automatically my eyes wander to his left hand in search of a ring.
Nothing.
So single… Maybe. Unless he has a girlfriend. I doubt it. Doesn’t matter how hot he is. No one would put up with this attitude.
When I approach his stall, Red’s spine stiffens slightly, so I know he senses I’m behind him but his head never lifts as he thoroughly studies every part he removes from the engine.
I’ve spent my life around mechanics and right away I can tell Red is very different. One thing was glaringly evident. Red is probably good at anything that has to do with his hands. They’re beautiful; long fingers that are obviously strong, and I immediately imagine them gripping my hips and him making me scream his name. I’d scream it all right.
Lock it down, Lenny. Lock. It. Down.
I’m standing near his toolbox like an idiot, watching him work on the engine. His sleeves are snug, showcasing his tattooed arms and the muscles defining them. “Are you waiting for something?”
His voice startles me, and I look up to see he’s turned toward me, a look of impatience on his face. I can’t meet his eyes for some strange reason. His eyes scare me because of my own naughty thoughts about him when I look into them. Unfortunately, I’m a sucker for guys like him, the ones who hardly give you the time of day, and I hate myself for it.
“Anything else you need?”
He tosses a repair order at me. “Can you handle this?”
Standing tall, I answer without even looking at the order. “Yes.”
“Show me then.” His lips twist in amusement, his eyes lingering on mine for several intense moments. I try to convince myself that his stare is annoying, but my body betrays me as a warm shiver races through my body.
Is he for real?
AN HOUR LATER, everyone in the shop has gone home for the day, and I’m closing the hood to the Celica in my stall getting ready to pull it out to the parking lot.
“I finished replacing that gasket,” I tell Red, wiping my hands clean on a shop rag. I’m covered head-to-toe in dirt and grease and am probably a laughable site. “Anything else?”
He raises his head, looks at me and then turns away, his eyes focused on his quick hands in front of him. “Nope. See you tomorrow. We open at eight. Don’t be late.”
I’m just about to thank him for giving me a chance when he walks away from me.
“You’re welcome,” I utter just as he’s walking away.
I watch his footsteps falter, and the muscles in his shoulders tighten. I hit a nerve. He stops but doesn’t turn around. “And Lenny, don’t wear those shorts tomorrow.”
As I stand there watching him walk away from me, I huff out the breath I’m holding and remind myself I know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m not that girl who sits in silence and takes crap. I wasted a year doing that, and I’m done with it.
But even with my new resolve I can’t help but think maybe this is too much. Maybe I should just find something else. This dude hates me.
No. Don’t think that way.
To hell with maybe. I’ve spent my life working on cars, and there’s not a chance in hell I’ll let some male chauvinistic pig run me off now. Fuck him.
Well, a girl can dream.
LUCKILY FOR ME Lebanon has a pretty nice travel stop not too far from the shop. I’m starving. Those tacos didn’t cut it, but before I head out in search of something to eat, I need to wash this day off of me.
I park my bronco outside the women’s restroom and head straight for the shower. Setting the water to scalding, despite the heat outside I get goose bumps waiting for it to heat up. Once under the spray, my shoulders relax. I take my time washing my hair enjoying the sensation of washing away not only the grime from today, but also all the tension throughout the day.
Unfortunately, my time alone is interrupted by some chick standing outside my shower stall, intently watching me, and hacking up her goddamn lung. Who coughs that much and doesn’t need to be on a ventilator?
“What are you doing?”
She eyes me up and down. “I’m waiting for the shower.”
I can see why she needs to shower. She has more dirt on her than me, and her urine-colored hair is matted to the side of her head in what appears to be a poor or natural attempt at dreadlocks. “Well then, wait.” I rip the small curtain closed, though I know for sure she can see me through it. Creepy old hag. “Don’t spy on me.”
&nbs
p; “Can I join you?”
“Why?”
“I could wash your—”
Before she can finish her words, I rip the flimsy excuse for a curtain back open, completely this time so she sees me naked, which is a horrible idea. “No, you can’t fucking join me. Give me five minutes and you can have the shower to yourself.”
The thing is, she doesn’t leave. She fucking stands there watching me even after I close the curtain.
I open it again. “Seriously, what are you waiting for?”
“The shower.” And then she eyes my tattoo down my side. “I like your ink.”
“I’ll be done in a minute.”
Butch lady looks down at my clothes on the bench beside her. “Can I have your shorts?”
I eye her curvy figure under her oversized Mickey T-shirt. “I don’t think they would fit you.”
She holds up my black lace thong panties. My fucking underwear. “Can I have these?”
I sigh, the shower spray hitting my face as I wipe away the water. “Again, I don’t think they’d fit you.”
She smiles, and I wish she wouldn’t. It’s scary, and I’m pretty positive she’s never ever brushed her teeth. “I wasn’t planning on wearing them.”
“Okay.” I rip the curtain closed and resume my shower. “Get the fuck out!”
Amazingly enough, she does but waits outside the bathroom. When I’m finished, I put the same clothes back on.
As I’m leaving, I toss my panties at Butch Lady eating fried chicken straight from the bone. I really do not want to know where the chicken came from. No way she had time to go and get that from somewhere and bring it back.
“Here, creepo. Enjoy.”
After Lenny leaves for the night, I flop down on the couch in the office trying to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do. I want to stand up and watch her walk away, just so I have one more visual of her and those shorts for later. I don’t because my mom is in the office and I’ve spent the entire day with either an erection, or a semi. I need a break.
“How did everything go?” Mom asks, shuffling through paperwork. “Is she going to work out?”
“Shit… I don’t know.” I throw my arms up and let them flop back down on my knees. “If you’re asking if she can do it, yes. If you’re asking me if I want her here, I don’t know that either.”
“So what’s the problem?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You know damn well what the problem is.”
“Look, Red, I know what you went through with Nevaeh. She was taken from you in a way that was sudden and awful but sometimes it’s okay to be a man. You’ve done nothing but be a dad for the past two years. And you’re twenty-seven. Allow yourself to be a man. There’s nothing wrong with satisfying some needs.”
“Okay.” I stand, ready to run out of the office and dig out my cell phone to check the time. “I’m not talking about this with you.”
“I remember this one time with your dad.”
“Nope. I’m leaving. Stop talking to me.”
Mom laughs, reaching for her purse. “If it weren’t for your dad and I getting it on, you wouldn’t be here, son.”
She has a point.
One I refuse to acknowledge.
We leave together, Mom’s laughter still ringing out as she heads to her car.
AS I PULL my 1974 Nova SS to a stop in front Elle’s place to pick up Nova, I can’t help but find it funny that it’s literally the end of the goddamn day, yet Elle is always wearing fresh makeup. My mind automatically drifts to Lenny and the way she looked with very little makeup on.
Elle’s standing at the door with a pair of jean shorts and her bikini top. “Hey, Red.”
“Hey.” I step forward but remain on the pebble stone pathway as opposed to their front porch. “Just came to get Nova.”
“Okay, come in and I’ll grab her.” She motions over her shoulder to the back. “They were playing on the slip n’ slide.”
“I’m kinda in a hurry. Can you just send her out?”
“Uh, sure.” Elle looks disappointed, but the last thing I need is to spend the next fifteen minutes inside while she tries to shove her tits in my face. I’m so wound up today I’d probably say something I shouldn’t, like, “Where’s your husband?” which would certainly be a justifiable question, but I also know I might upset her, and Nova’s already been kicked out of two other daycares for her attitude.
Wonder where she gets it from?
It takes Nova five minutes to change out of her bathing suit, and she comes around the corner with her long brown wet curls perched on top of her head in a bun. Her cheeks are splattered with fresh freckles, her eyes glimmering blue against the light pink shirt she’s wearing.
I smile at her, kneeling to her level when she runs to me. “Daddy!”
I love that sound. “Hey, darlin’. How was your day?”
“It was good. I went swimming!” Everything she says is exaggerated as I pick her up and carry her. Breathing in deeply, sunscreen and grass fill my senses.
Elle hands me a plastic bag with Nova’s wet bathing suit in it. “Here you go.”
Nova turns in my arms to look at Elle. “Why are you wearing lipstick?”
Elle laughs nervously, twirling a strand of her wet hair around her finger. “I wear it all the time.” Her eyes land on mine. “Keeps my lip moist.”
She should never use the word moist. Placing my hand over Nova’s mouth, I turn her before she can say anything else and mumble, “See you tomorrow.”
When we’re in the car, Nova jumps over the seat and into the back. “She’s so desperate.”
“No more hanging out with Raven,” I say, chuckling as I start the car.
“Uncle Rawley actually taught me that one.”
I meet her eyes in the mirror as she buckles her car seat. “Do you even know what desperate means?”
She shrugs. “I think it means putting on lipstick right when my daddy arrives.”
She’s too smart for her own good.
“Where do you want to go for dinner?” There’s no way I want to cook tonight. Though I don’t cook much anyway and when I do, it’s easy stuff like steaks or chicken. Shit you can’t fuck up on the grill.
“McDonald’s.”
“No.”
She pushes out her bottom lip. “We never do anything I want.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
The only other thing Nova will willingly eat besides chicken nuggets is pizza. “How about pizza?”
“Okay!”
There’s a small pizza shop down the street from our house. When Nevaeh was pregnant with Nova, I made frequent trips here, which is probably why Nova likes pizza so much. The moment we’re inside, Nova wants quarters for the games, though she has no clue how to play any of them.
I dig four quarters out of my pocket and hand them to her as I approach the counter. She heads in the other direction leaving me alone with the kid behind the counter. “What’ll it be tonight, Red?”
I stare up at the black chalkboard with the combinations written in white chalk. “Can I get a large cheese pizza with pepperoni and pineapple on one side and just cheese on the other?”
The kid writes down the order and rings it in. “Want a pitcher of Bud, too?”
I nod and reach for my wallet in my back pocket. “Yeah, sounds good.”
Taking the red plastic number sign they give me, I head to a table in the corner near where Nova is yelling at the Pac-Man game to give her quarter back to her.
“Did you put the money in to play?”
“Yeah,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest and kicking the side of the machine.
“Well, did you play?”
“Yeah, but it took my money.”
“If you play the game, it takes your money.”
She scowls at the game, and then me. “That’s dumb.”
“You do this every time we come here. You know it’s not going to give your money back so why are you
mad?
Nova looks at the game and then shakes her head. “I guess I was just hoping this time would be different.”
See what I mean? No idea how to play video games.
Shaking my head, I chuckle to myself as a pitcher of beer is placed on the table. I don’t look up, but I thank whoever sets it down and pull out my cell phone. There’s a message from Tyler… two actually. Both of which he’s apologizing and the other asking what I thought of Lenny.
With the text, my thoughts shift to that ass again. What the fuck am I going to do? I gotta figure this shit out because all I’m thinking about is her ass and those fucking legs wrapped around me.
I’ve got too much on my plate as it is, and the last thing I need is a distraction at work. Though, if I fucked her, she wouldn’t be a distraction anymore, would she?
No. Don’t even go there, Red. She’s off limits.
And that’s one of the reasons why I want her.
Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me.
You haven’t had pussy in two years. That’s what’s wrong.
“Daddy, are you listening to me?”
Fuck… I hadn’t even realized Nova was talking to me.
“Uh… yes.”
She looks up at me with a glare. “Then what did I say?”
I stare blankly at her and hear a familiar voice. “Can I get a small pepperoni and sausage?”
My head whips around to the cash register to see those same legs that’ve haunted me all day. Goddamn it. Though she’s clearly showered, she’s still wearing the shorts. I hate those tiny denim dick-teasing shorts so much that I glare at her without knowing it.
“Who’s that?” Nova asks, following my stare. “She’s pretty. I like her shorts. Can I have some like that?”
Fuck no. Never.
I let my head flip to the back of the booth and stare at the ceiling. “She’s nobody. And you’ll never be allowed to own a pair of shorts like that.”
“She’s alone. She should come sit with us.” Nova hates seeing people eating alone. Doesn’t matter if they prefer that or not, she’ll invite them to dinner. You don’t know how many times I’ve had dinner with the bum on the corner. The funny thing is she never invites women over. She won’t even acknowledge most women, let alone a younger one like Lenny.