by Long, Marie
“Yup.” I hang the dolly back on the wall.
“All right. Five minutes till quittin’ time. You have a good weekend.”
The way he says that sounds like he wants me to leave early, have fun. I take that cue without hesitation and head out.
On the way back home, I stop at a convenience store. It’s rush-hour traffic, and the place is near the interstate, so it’s pretty busy inside with tons of people packed into the tiny store. I stand on line with a box of condoms tucked under one arm and stare idly at the nine people ahead of me. Of course, an old man at the head of the line decides to pay with plastic and takes forever to punch in his information on the card reader. I sigh heavily and watch customers enter and mill about the store.
I just want to go home.
After what seems like forever, I’m finally the second person in line. The bell over the door jingles, followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps. A girl comes running up to the counter in a panic. Several customers in line give her dirty looks. The girl appears slightly younger than me—nineteen, maybe twenty.
“Excuse me, is there a working pay phone anywhere? It’s an emergency and my cell’s dead!” She says frantically.
While punching buttons on the register with one hand, the clerk points to the entrance with the other and says, “Outside around the corner.”
“Thanks.” She spins on her heel and rushes out.
The troubled look on her face makes me curious. Is she alone?
When it’s finally my turn, I quickly pay and leave, hoping the girl hasn’t left yet. Why am I even worried about her, anyway? I don’t know her. With my luck, she probably has some jealous boyfriend waiting in the car for her. He could be waiting to beat the living shit out of a stupid punk like me for nosing around in her business.
I discover the girl around the side of the building at the pay phone, which looks like it’s been out of commission for years. She wipes sweat from her forehead, adjusts the dark blue headband she’s wearing over her cornrowed hair, then fishes through her purse and jeans pockets, probably looking for change. After stuffing the box of condoms in my backpack on my bike, I walk over to her. She looks up at me briefly before resuming her search.
I pull a quarter from my pocket and hand it to her. “Here.”
She looks back at me with raised eyebrows, then at the quarter, but doesn’t take it.
“Or you can use my cell, if you like,” I say. I glance over my shoulder, anticipating her jealous brute of a boyfriend—because a beautiful girl like her couldn’t possibly be single— grabbing me from behind and slamming me against his car, but all I find are people going in and out of the convenience store, not paying either of us any mind. I turn back to the girl.
She looks at me hesitantly. “I …"
“I’m just trying to help here. That’s all. You said it was an emergency, right?”
“Yes.” She takes the quarter meekly. “Thank you.” She turns away from me and picks up the receiver.
Of course, I want to ask her what the emergency is, but that’s none of my business. Maybe if I wait long enough, I’ll get an opportunity. This girl looks different from the ones Chris brings home every night. Hell, she looks different from some of the college girls I’ve seen in the past couple of semesters. She actually covers her assets rather than advertise them.
Again, I look over my shoulder for some rough-looking guy heading in my direction, but cars go by, and random people continue entering and leaving the convenience store. I hear the clicking sound of the coin being inserted into the phone, and I whip my head back around.
“Hi, I need a tow truck right away …"
My concern for this girl gets a little deeper.
“Yes, I have roadside service under my dad’s name,” she says. “I’m uh … She pauses and looks around briefly, then returns to her conversation. “I’m at the shopmart on Fifteenth, but my car is further away … Denise—Denise Ramsey … All right, thank you.” She hangs up the phone and spins around, casting me a thankful look.
I try not to smile. Denise Ramsey, I assume, is her name. And she apparently has car problems.
“Thank you so much,” Denise says. “I’m very sorry. I wish I had some change to pay you back.”
“Naw, don’t worry about it,” I say, waving my hand dismissively. “So what happened to your car?”
Denise shrugs. “I don’t know. I was driving along and suddenly everything just cuts off without warning. I coasted to a stop and the car wouldn’t start any more.”
My mechanic mode kicks in. “Sounds like a bad battery. Or the alternator.”
Denise’s eyes dull. “Oh. How expensive is something like that to fix, you think?”
“It depends on the seriousness of the problem.”
She sighs. “I guess I’ll be without a car for a while. I don’t get paid for another week.”
I chew my bottom lip. I know I could fix whatever was wrong with it—though, depending on her car, an alternator might be a bit of a pain. Denise seems like a sensible girl I might like to get to know. “Denise, was it? My name is Dominick. I’m a mechanic at Frank’s Garage, over on Mercer Street.”
“You’re a mechanic?” Denise blinks, then gives a short laugh. “That’s convenient. But there’s no way I’ll be able to afford any car repairs right now.”
Frank certainly won’t approve, but Larry never minds whenever I bring my bike over there to service after-hours. So long as I don’t use the shop’s parts, Larry is usually cool with it. I figure I will probably have to explain about Denise’s car, though. “I think I might be able to make it all work out if you bring it by the shop. I just need to talk to a coworker about it.”
Her eyes light up, but that excitement quickly fades. “No, I should probably get it towed back to my house until I can afford the repairs.”
Smart girl. Never trust strangers. “All right. I completely understand. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. That’s smart. But please know that I’m just trying to help. You are always welcome to stop by the shop and see for yourself whenever you like.”
“Thank you.” She nods.
“Mind if I wait on the tow truck with you? I’d rather not see you waiting out here all by yourself like this.”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “I happen to be a grown woman. I don’t need adult supervision.”
Ouch.
“But I don’t mind the company, and you did loan me a quarter.” She smiles reassuringly, perhaps realizing she sounded harsh.
I exhale. I barely know this girl, but she’s got me curious. I step aside to give her some space, and then lean against the wall of the building, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “I hope you don’t find it creepy or something for me to want to ensure that an attractive woman like you is safe.” I mentally kick myself. Did I really just say that?
Thankfully, she doesn’t appear put-off by the comment. Her expression, however, turns coyer. “I don’t really find it creepy. Though, I can only wonder what is going on in that mind of yours that you would take time out of your busy schedule to wait on a tow truck with me.”
My smile slowly returns. “Have you never heard of chivalry?”
She laughs. “Yeah, I heard it’s dead.”
“Eh, well, there are still a few of us guys out there trying to keep it alive.” My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out. Chris’s number blinks on the screen. I ignore the call and send him a text message saying that I won’t be coming home anytime soon. If he’s that desperate for a quick fuck, he’ll find a way. I stuff the phone back into my pocket.
Denise looks away and out toward the road, perhaps searching for the tow truck.
“So where were you headed, if you don’t mind my asking?” I ask.
She looks back at me. “Home. I have a big test to study for on Monday.”
“You’re in college?” Relief spreads over me. She’s most likely legal.
She nods. “I’m a junior at UDub. What about you?�
�
“Sophomore. I go there, too.” Maybe this means I’ll be seeing her around. Get to know her.
“What are you studying?” She asks.
“Electrical Engineering. You?”
“Wow, that sounds intense. I’m Liberal Arts.”
“That’s cool. So do you work?”
“Yeah, but only part-time. I write fashion and lifestyle articles for an online community.”
“You’re a blogger?” I raise my eyebrows, and she nods.
“If you’d call it that. But it’s fun work. And helps pay rent.”
I’m about to ask her more about work, when a set of headlights shines on us. I didn’t realize how dark it had gotten already. A quick check of my phone reveals the time—7:19 p.m.—and a text notification—most likely from Chris. I ignore the text and re-pocket the phone. Denise walks over to meet the tow man, who gets out of a big black wrecker with spinning orange and yellow lights on top. He scribbles something on a clipboard before handing it to her.
“Sign here, here, and initial here,” Tow Man says, pointing.
While she’s filling out the paperwork, he gives Denise one of those wolfish looks. I push myself off the wall and move closer to her, in an almost protective manner. Tow Man shoots me a dirty look, but says nothing. Finished writing, Denise hands the clipboard back to him.
“Thank you, Miss Ramsey,” he says, taking the clipboard and returning to the truck. “Hop in and you can direct me to your car.” He opens the passenger-side door for her and waits.
She glances back at me then turns and climbs into the truck.
I’m certainly not about to leave her alone with that guy. I return to my bike as I watch the truck leave the parking lot and head down the street. I follow the truck from a short distance away, keeping the orange-yellow lights in sight. Soon, it turns down a road that is less traveled this time of evening. The truck slows and veers off to the grassy shoulder and in front of a white sedan. I park my bike behind the car and watch as Tow Man gets out and begins hitching up the front of the car to the wrecker. He shoots me another dirty look but says nothing. Denise hops out of the truck as well. She notices me and waves. I smile and wave back.
“Where would you like your car towed, Miss Ramsey?” Tow Man asks.
Denise brushes her fingertips over her lips as she contemplates the now-hitched car. Then, she looks over to me and stares for a long time, as if she is considering something. Dropping her fingers, she says, “Frank’s Garage, please.”
Chapter 3
I lead the way to Frank’s Garage, and when I arrive, I notice most of the lights are on and someone’s moving around inside behind the shut glass bay door. Larry’s working overtime again. I swear, he’s the hardest-working man I’ve ever met. Why isn’t he the boss instead of Frank?
The tow truck stops in front of the shop. Larry pulls up the bay door just enough to duck under. I park my bike while Denise and the tow man get out of the truck.
Tow Man hands Larry a clipboard, and Larry signs off on it.
As Tow Man unhitches Denise’s car, Larry grabs my arm, and I wince. Damn, he’s got a strong grip. He pulls me over toward the door to the office.
Larry looks at me, bleary-eyed. “Dominick? What the hell’s all this?”
“Can’t seem to get enough of this place, y’know?” I say, rubbing the back of my head.
Larry simply stares. “Look, I’ve gotta finish replacing a timing belt, so—”
“Larry, don’t be mad or anything, but this girl was having car problems, and I told her she could bring it by here for me to look at. I think it’s the alternator. I can probably fix it myself. I just need the shop light.”
Larry frowns. “If Frank comes by here and sees you … ”
“I’m just doing a favor, that’s all. Trying to be a good guy here.”
“Don’t bullshit me, boy.”
I sigh and look toward Denise, who is watching Tow Man secure the chains back on the wrecker.
“Goodnight, Miss Ramsey,” Tow Man says with a smile and flirty tone as he opens the driver-side door.
I clench my jaw. Phony bastard.
Denise smiles back at him, but unlike his fake-ass one, hers looks genuine. “Goodnight, sir, and thank you.”
Tow Man hops in and speeds off down the street.
A sudden smack to the back of my head lurches me forward. “I’m talking to you, Dominick! Don’t you fucking ignore me!”
I turn back to Larry and stare at him. His overworked, bloodshot eyes are glaring. Oh shit. The last thing I want to do is make him angry. He used to fight Golden Gloves in his younger days. Rubbing the back of my head, I mutter, “S-sorry, man. Got distracted there for a minute.”
“No shit.” Larry folds his arms over his chest. The muscles in his forearms and biceps bulge menacingly.
I don’t know where to look. “Yeah, so, uh … can I use a small light to work on Denise’s car? I promise to stay out of your way, and I won’t use any shop parts.”
“Damn right you won’t use any shop parts,” Larry says through clenched teeth. There’s a long pause. Then, sighing heavily, Larry uncrosses his arms and thumbs over to bay two. “You can use the one hanging on the wall over there. The one with the orange cord.” He walks back under bay one’s raised door and lowers it, but doesn’t shut it completely. His head disappears under the hood of an SUV.
Smiling, I hustle over to Denise. “Sorry about that. I just had to straighten some things out. It’s all good now.”
Denise tilts her head curiously. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be doing this?”
I nod curtly. “Yeah. And if I get in trouble, well, then I get in trouble. But Larry’s cool about keeping quiet about me working after hours. It’s not like I get paid overtime or anything.”
“Ah … payment. About that … ”
“Naw, we’ll talk about that when I finish. Now, I’m gonna need you to steer while I push your car close to the bay there. Can you do that?”
Denise smirks. “I know how to steer a car, if you can handle the weight.”
Beautiful, smart, and sassy.
I go behind the car while she gets in. Grunting, I push it up to bay two’s closed glass door.
Denise pops the hood while I lift the bay door a little, grab the metal work light, and feed its long orange cord through the bottom of the partly open door. I almost do a double-take when I notice the transmission. Holy shit, she drives stick? That’s hot. First girl I’ve met who knows how to drive one.
The battery looks good, so I move on to the alternator.
“How bad is it?” Denise asks. Her voice is close.
I glance up and realize she’s standing beside me, leaning in a little. Her braids drape over her shoulders, down to her chest, where her scoop-neck shirt reveals a slight peek of the thin lace of her bra. I exhale slowly and feel my pants tighten. All right, Dom. Keep it under control. I clear my throat. “Uh, let’s see here … ” Hauling my attention back to the alternator, I move the light around as best I can. I already see problems, but hopefully it’s not as bad as I thought. “Looks like you have a little corrosion around the connectors, and a loose wire around your alternator. Nothing major, but that could be why you couldn’t start the car.”
“Think you’ll be able to fix it tonight? I’m really going to need the car tomorrow to go to a study group. Or maybe I should just take the bus instead—”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’ll make absolutely sure your car is ready for tomorrow.”
“All right. So, how much is all this going to run me?”
Scratching the back of my head, I glance over at bay one, where Larry is still tinkering under the hood, oblivious to us. Business is business, but technically, I’m not on the clock, so this doesn’t really count as business, does it? I mutter, “Don’t worry about it.”
She blinks. “Quit playing. I can’t let you do all this for free. I mean, you work here and all that, right?”
“Yeah,
but this is my own personal time. Favor for a friend, you know? But if you’re gonna insist on paying me, then … how about dinner?” I bite my tongue as soon as the words are out of my mouth. What the hell was I thinking, asking her that?
Denise snorts a laugh. “Dinner? As in a date?”
I deflate a little. I’m such a fucking idiot. “Uh, no … not really. Sorry, I was way out of line there.”
She doesn’t reply. Just awkward silence.
Shit! I blew it! I’m hopeless.
“How long is this repair going to take?” she finally asks, as if she hadn’t heard me.
I swallow a lump in my throat and turn away, sticking my head back under the hood. I can’t even look at her any more. “Uh … about two hours, maybe?”
“All right. I guess I’ll go study in the meantime.” She rounds the back of the car.
I glance in her direction, careful not to make eye contact. She opens the trunk, and pulls out a large, tan messenger bag. “You can use the office, if you like,” I say, pointing to the office entrance. “There’s a couch in there.”
She slams the trunk shut. “Thanks.”
She leaves, and I start on the repairs. My hands work practically on their own while my mind wanders.
What the hell just happened? Why couldn’t I have met someone like Denise before? She’s not only physically attractive, her intelligence and self-respect make her that much more beautiful. And it’s clear she knows her worth.
I exhale, stop working, and wipe at my palms. My thoughts have made them sweaty.
The connections and wires are all repaired, and I realize two and a half hours have flown by. I get in the car and start it up. The motor hums, and I smile.
“Yes!” I hiss, doing a little fist-pump.
I glance through the glass of bay one. Larry’s still hunched over the SUV, working away. I swear, that man is a machine.
I shut the car off then head to the office. Denise is sprawled on the couch among a mass of papers. A thick textbook sits open beside her. She looks up from a spiral-bound notebook in her lap, her eyes full of anticipation like an excited puppy. “You’re finished?”