by Diana Layne
MJ picked through the tools until she found the one with 3/4" stamped on it. “What are you doing?”
“Changing the oil pan, it’s got a leak. Won’t be any good to drop the rebuilt engine into it with the oil leaking out.”
She peeked under the car. Taking things apart and putting them back together was something she’d done a few times with her dad on the rare times he was home from his job.
“Mind if I watch?”
Niko stopped what he was doing and lifted his head to look at her. Bright blue eyes stood out against his suntanned skin, tawny skin that was also slightly smudged with grease spots on his forehead and nose. MJ felt an affinity for him; he didn’t always try to look perfect like Tasha.
“No problem.” Nor did he treat her like a pesky little girl, as Tasha did. “Better change out of your school clothes,” he added. “Or we’ll have to listen to Annie’s bitching.”
MJ smiled. Good old Annie. Someone had to do all the cooking, cleaning and washing while Lauryn was busy raising money for a new hospital wing or otherwise “serving” her community. Anything seemed to be better to that woman than raising needy kids.
Annie, a big lady with pound for pound a heart to match, was a four-star General when it came to house rules.
After changing into a worn pair of jeans and faded t-shirt, MJ slid under the car watching Niko’s big capable hands work on a bolt with ease. He introduced her to the world of car repair and for the first time since her mom and dad died, MJ felt she had a place. Her young heart allowed hope to blossom.
By the time she entered high school, she could diagnose and fix a car as well as most gas station mechanics. And by then she’d become Niko’s sidekick as much as Tonto was to the Lone Ranger, or Robin to Batman. But as she aged, the relationship morphed and became more like Lois Lane to Superman.
As she approached her junior year in high school, her little adolescent crush on Niko had grown into a great big teenage girl infatuation which she worked hard to keep hidden.
That was the year he left for college and in a sad way she was almost relieved to see him go. Keeping a secret, unrequited love was mentally and emotionally exhausting. Now, she only had to get through the holidays when he returned home from school.
For the next two years, MJ was mostly able to save her heart and keep her crush to herself, having to only play the faithful sidekick on rare occasions.
Until Niko and Tasha’s mother died right before MJ’s graduation.
Suddenly he was back home. Ed took care of the funeral arrangements, but Niko and Tasha picked out the casket. MJ went with them. It was a creepy experience. An even creepier experience came at the wake, sitting up with the dead body. It brought back feelings of when her parents died, and emotions she buried were dredged up making her face the pain all over again.
Still, MJ held up through the renewed hurt and offered her support to Tasha, who rebuffed her. Of course, being Tasha, she rebuffed everyone. On the couch in the room reserved for family members, MJ sat by Niko and in a bold move took his hand. He didn’t push her away, but held her hand and seemed to take comfort from the gesture.
The next day she stood by Niko at the gravesite, while Tasha stood to one side, away from them all. Aloof, cold. Normal.
Various employees of The Company—she hadn’t learned until later it was the CIA—who remembered their parents, showed up at the funeral, and then came to Ed’s house bearing gifts of food and company.
Once the mourners had gone, Ed didn’t stick around to offer comfort, but went directly to work. He’d quit The Company and was working longer hours than ever to get Vista Security, his new business started.
Annie packed the food away in the refrigerator and headed for her home, which she shared with an elderly mother. Tasha drove away without explanation, and typical Lauryn-fashion, she had a meeting she couldn’t miss. That left Niko and MJ alone in the big, silent house. MJ considered going out herself—she’d been driving a couple of years now—but then that would leave Niko all alone. She thought she should at least see if he needed some companionship.
She found him sitting on the bed, television control in his hand, staring at a TV that wasn’t turned on. Like most of the male species, Niko loved to flip channels, but though he’d been in here almost an hour, he was still sitting in a silent room.
“Nothing good to watch?”
“What?” He gave her a blank stare, his blue eyes dry, but rimmed with red.
MJ blinked back her own emotion and nodded her head toward the television.
“Oh. I haven’t looked yet.”
In spite of the stoic set of his jaw, the sadness in his expression made her heart feel like it was ripping. She entered the room. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Okay.”
“Want to talk?”
“No.”
His words said no, but his hunched-over body told a different story. He needed a friend.
“Why do guys think they have to be so brave?” She entered the room, shut the door behind her. “I know what you’re going through, you know," she told him when he looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face.
“Had you been close to your mom? Before. Before the accident?” MJ knew he’d made a point to visit his mother as often as he could in the nursing home, but she had never talked to him about his relationship with her.
He half shrugged, half nodded. “She stayed home. My dad always worked long hours.”
Easing onto the dark blue comforter as though the bed might tip over, or crush underneath her weight, she sat as close to Niko as she could. Not close enough to be pulled into his orbit like a falling apple to earth, but not so far that he couldn’t pull her on top of him with a short reach. Silly girl fantasy.
“I was closer to my mom,” MJ said. “A lot of times it was just me and her. But I thought my dad was Prince Charming, so when he was home it was great." The ghost of a smile crossed her face as she remembered the special times spent with her dad.
“My father’s the one who taught me to work on cars.” Niko stretched his legs, his muscles flexing under his dress slacks.
“I’m glad for that. You saved me from feeling like I had to learn to cook and clean.”
“My mother gave me a cooking lesson once.” Niko still hadn’t turned to look at her but continued to stare at the silent television set. “She said men needed to know how to cook as well.”
MJ tried to picture Niko cooking, and couldn’t. “So what’d she teach you?”
“Nothing. One lesson was enough to know I was hopeless. I tried to make cheboureki.”
“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say.” MJ forced a chuckle at an attempt to lighten his dark tone.
“It’s a fried meat pie.”
“Yum.” She grimaced.
“It tastes better than it sounds. Except when I tried to make it of course.”
She was struck with an idea. “Well, you know what they say? Practice makes perfect.”
He finally looked at her.
“Let’s make some of those chebourekis. You didn’t eat anything. You’re bound to be hungry.”
His look said it all. That she was crazy to even make the suggestion. Which was as she’d intended, but it gave her an opening to get him out of the room.
“Okay, nix that idea. There’s probably enough leftovers we can eat instead.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Or I can go out and tear down your car, make you put it back together again.”
He continued to stare at her as if she’d really gone over the edge, until . . . “You’re trying to get me out of the room.”
“Finally, he gets it.” She raised her palms to the ceiling. “Come on.” Grabbing his hand, she dragged him after her to the kitchen, opened the fridge and started pulling out dishes of food.
“Wow.”
“Told you,” she said as she placed bowls on the counter. “Sit down, I’ll make you a plate. I can’t cook, but I’m
queen of the microwave.”
“So when you get married, your husband will have to know how to cook?”
Oh, man, married. Where had that come from? The idea made it all too easy to picture him as her husband. A thought she’d never allowed herself to think about through the years of her crush. From practice, she swallowed the fantastic idea. “Either that, or live on frozen dinners,” she said, forcing her tone to stay playful.
He smiled. Finally. She so loved that smile. It softened the squareness of his jaw, but didn’t diminish the he-man effect at all.
While they ate, he discussed the business he would be going into with Ed. The same job where Tasha already worked and Ed had been training MJ for. When Niko finished college, he was to work at Vista full time, too.
“Are you excited about this job?”
“I think I’d rather work on cars.” He shrugged. “But Ed is paying for my college, providing all this training. And Tasha likes it so far. Actually, Tasha loves it.”
MJ touched his hand, hoping to steer the conversation away from Tasha. “You’ll do a good job whatever you do.”
“How about you? Are you looking forward to coming to work with us?”
“I like working on cars, too." Yet, she felt danger and excitement in her future.
“Well, okay then, we can open an auto repair shop,” Niko said.
MJ picked up the empty plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. “I’m all for that.”
Niko got up from the table and went to her, a serious expression on his face. “Thanks for keeping me company.”
The solemn tone, his standing so very close made her heart trip along at a faster rate. Taking a deep breath, she placed a hand on his muscled bicep to ground herself. “No problem. It helped me too.” She forced herself to smile.
“These last few days have been hard on both of us.” Niko patted her hand.
Niko understood without being told that MJ had to remember burying her parents all over again. “It has brought up a lot of bad memories,” she admitted. “I miss my parents. I miss the life I had. I miss looking forward to my future.”
He folded her into a hug. “I know.” He sighed. “Believe me, I know.”
MJ held onto Niko, her throat tight with emotion. Loss for her parents weighed heavy on her heart, yes, but also desire for Niko. Even his years away at college hadn’t eased her infatuation.
She took a breath, took a plunge. “On the other hand, I’m glad I got to know you,” she said in a quiet voice, forcing herself to look into his eyes. Something shifted then, and she knew the moment he became aware of it. Aware of her. Aware of when she licked her lips.
His blue eyes—some called ice blue—warmed to the color of a blue flame. The hottest part of a fire. He lowered his head.
Heart tripping faster, she knew he was going to kiss her, a barely admitted dream come true. . . .
* * *
The “You Are Leaving Missouri” sign broke through MJ’s memories. It took her a moment to orient herself; she realized she’d been in a frame of mind where she’d been driving automatically, not really counting the miles as they went by.
Hours earlier, when MJ had driven her Mustang across the Texas state line into Oklahoma, the song Texas in My Rearview Mirror had come to mind. Tex liked classic country music, and that’s what played on the shop’s boom box. MJ, sorely lacking in her knowledge of country music according to Tex, had soon learned that sometimes those story songs captured the moment the way nothing else could.
But unlike the man in the song, MJ didn’t have to leave Texas to know she wanted to go back. Texas, and the smiling face of her daughter, was home.
Now, as MJ crossed over the Illinois state line thirteen hours after she’d started this journey, it struck her how very far Texas was from her rearview mirror.
And how very foreign it felt trying to slip back into her former job. A role she’d once worn with ease now felt like she’d lost weight and the old clothes just hung on her. No longer a comfortable fit.
MJ yawned and rubbed her eyes. It’d been years since she’d pulled an all-nighter and she needed another strong shot of caffeine to keep going. She took the next exit where a lone convenience store sat off the side of the road. Lucky her to find any sort of store on this long silent stretch of farmland.
A late 80’s model pimped out Chevy Impala was parked in front of the store, not perpendicular as most cars parked, but slashed across the front taking up all the parking spaces. Damned inconsiderate. Of course, at the crack of dawn there wasn’t going to be too many customers competing for a parking place.
From long habit, she took in the car. Painted burnt orange with red stripes and big wheels, the car had Illinois state tags. Maybe someone heading back home after a road trip—certainly no houses around for anyone to be running up the road to grab a late night snack. As a matter of fact, because of the isolation of the area, it was a strange place for a store. Must be a lot of highway business.
After parking, she threw open the door and the first thing that struck her was the lower temperature, much chillier than in Texas. The wind stung as she stepped out of the car, the cold zapping all the way to her brain, making her teeth chatter and her body shiver. She made a split second decision to reach into her bag and pull out a heavy pair of sweats, getting warm now added to her list of needs. She slid on the jacket and carried the pants with her.
Inside the store a man with a baseball cap perched backwards on his head stood looking at rows of cookies and cupcakes. The clerk, an older man, stared at an infomercial on a small television set. He looked like he was having problems staying awake himself.
She found her way to the bathroom at the back of the store and washed her hands, splashing cold water on her face, which only marginally refreshed her. She’d recently heard about caffeinated soap, wished she had some to try.
She pulled on her sweat pants over her leggings, and with caffeine on her mind, headed for the coffee center. The man in the cap waited there as well, and blinked in surprise when he saw her. Which immediately put her on alert. Adrenaline spiked her heart rate. Perhaps it was the late hour, and he was just surprised to see another person. Or perhaps–
“Hands up!”
The command came from behind her. She spun to look, and another man hovered at the counter with a shotgun pointed at the clerk. He hadn’t seen her, or baseball cap man. Hadn’t even glanced their way, so that might mean baseball cap man was–
Before she could finish the thought, ‘in on it with him’ baseball cap man grabbed her in a rear choke hold and pressed a revolver muzzle to her head. Oh, really bright there, MJ. Very alert for a trained agent.
“Don’t shoot!” The clerk raised shaking hands in the air.
“Cooperate, honey, and this will all be over in a minute,” baseball cap man said in MJ’s ear.
“You don’t see me moving, do you?” she pointed out. Most criminals were stupid, it was best to explain things to them.
“Get the money,” shotgun crook yelled.
“I-I don’t have much–”
“Just get it.”
MJ watched it all unfold, her lagging brain now awake and functioning. Armed robbery. Were they going to rob the place and run, or did they mean to use the weapons? She watched the man with the shotgun. He was shaking badly. Drug addict needing a fix? Dangerous, if so. Nothing, life or death, was as important as that fix.
But the man holding her from behind wasn’t shaking. The muzzle against her head was steady.
Nerves, then for shotgun man?
The clerk opened the drawer, visibly trembling himself.
“What’s up?” MJ said, chatty and friendly.
“What’s it look like, are you some dummy?” baseball cap man answered.
“This isn’t the richest place to hit.”
“Shut up,” the shotgun man at the counter said without taking his eyes off the clerk. “Johnny, keep her quiet.”
Gang? She sized up the man in fr
ont of her. No obvious gang signs, but it was chillier here than in Texas, and they were bundled in jackets, gloves and cap. Their coats might be hiding gang clothes or tell tale tattoos, though there was an earring dangling out of shotgun man’s left ear.
“New career?”
“Honey, don’t think because you’re a woman that Boomer there won’t take you out if you don’t shut up.”
If a gang hit, did the guys get extra points for killing the victims? She didn’t think she’d take the time to hang around and find out.
“That’s all.” The clerk shoved the money across the counter. “All I have.”
Boomer, the shotgun man, shoved the money into his dirty pocket. Nice distraction. Especially since the grip from Johnny the baseball cap man behind her had slightly loosened.
A sharp sense of déjà vu from the Italian job blanketed her, although Keith’s man hadn’t had an arm wrapped around her throat. As adrenaline poured through her, she mentally prepared to take action but focused enough to keep her muscles loose so her captor wouldn’t suspect anything.
She drew a shallow breath. Now or never.
She punched straight up with her right fist into his wrist, knocking the gun arm away. She followed with a quick thrust of her elbow back into his ribs. His grip loosened and the gun clattered to the floor.
“What the hell?” Boomer turned around as she used momentum and took Johnny to the floor and followed with an axe kick to his head. He went cold.
Boomer pulled his shotgun up. She ducked and rolled and came up with the loose .357 Magnum. “You don’t want to do that,” she said to him when he pumped the shot gun. She cocked the hammer. Johnny boy liked heavy duty guns.
“That gun ain’t loaded.”
An old trick. She gave him brownie points for trying. “Nice, try.” She adjusted her aim and shot the dangling skull and crossbones earring off his left ear.
“Shit!” He grabbed his ear, stumbling a step backward into the counter, but managed to hold onto his shotgun. “You fucking tried to kill me.”
His ears had to be ringing, hers were, but she was used to it.