Motorhead_Maple Mills Book Five

by Kate Gilead

  “Hah! Look at you with your bad self! Doing the walk of shame, huh?”

  “No idea what you’re on about,” I say primly.

  Mark chortles. “Hey, Bren,” he says, sauntering over to the open garage door where Rob’s standing, looking out expectantly.

  “Hey, Slick. Is it today? A phone call would’ve been nice,” Mark says to his brother.

  “You said to just bring it over when Mason picked it up,” Rob says.

  “Oh yeah…I did, didn’t I?” Mark says sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.

  “Hiya, Rob,” I say, shooting him a wave.

  “How’s it going?” He lifts his chin in my direction.

  His eyes cut to look at his brother. Mark tilts his head and purses his lips.

  Rob turns away quickly but not before I catch the grin starting to crinkle his eyes.

  Caught, after our very first night together.

  Oh well. Not that it was gonna stay secret for long anyway.

  “Did we interrupt anything?” Brenda leers at me comically.

  “Yeah. Sleep,” I retort, but I can feel my cheeks warming up.

  “No coitus interruptus, huh? Oh well, maybe next time,” she jokes, grinning ear-to-ear. “I hope you put coffee on while you were up there?”

  “No, I didn’t. What are you guys doing here? Mark said he wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  “Well, he should’ve been. He knew this was happening soon.”

  “Huh?”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No…what?”

  “Oh, well…maybe he should be the one to tell you…”

  “Someone tell me, please!” My voice goes up a notch.

  “We came to, uhhh…we came to do something,” Brenda says, mysteriously, clearly relishing this opportunity to fuck with me. “We’re early, because the, uh…well…today’s the day”

  “What?” I’m thoroughly baffled.

  The rumble of a V8 engine can now be heard approaching from up the street.

  “Here it is,” Mark says. “Who’s driving? Looks like…”

  “Mason,” Rob says.

  And the two brothers look at each other and grin.

  “C’mere, baby,” Mark says, gesturing to me with a smile, then he turns to watch the approaching vehicle.

  Brenda gives me a grin and we both go to stand by the door as well.

  “Mason?” I say, trying to place the name.

  “My friend Freddy’s boss? Rob’s friend? That Mason,” Mark says.

  Brenda nods. “He’s Samantha’s new boyfriend, too.”

  “That, too,” Mark adds, helpfully.

  “Yes! That’s right! I kinda forgot.”

  “Well, you have a lot going on lately,” she smiles. “Just wait till you get a load of him.”

  Outside, an unassuming-looking Chevrolet Impala painted in factory burgundy pulls up. We all stand back while the sleek, snub-nosed vehicle pulls into the shop and parks in the first bay.

  A tall, good-looking man gets out.

  “Hey, Mace,” Mark greets the man cheerfully. “Where’s Freddy?”

  “Still in bed, probably,” Mason responds. Handsome dude, deep husky voice, long-is hair. “You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

  He greets Mark, Rob and Brenda, and then shakes my hand when Mark introduces us.

  Mason Grimmell is a reclusive robotics engineer who went to school with Rob, where they formed a geeky friendship. Turns out that, along with robots, Mason’s other passion is cars.

  People in town know of Mason, and of course Rob and Brenda hang out with him sometimes, but I’ve never met him before now.

  I know his girlfriend, Samantha, pretty well. She’s a friend from school. When we last spoke a few weeks ago, she mentioned that she and Mason are an item. There’s a new baby involved––his, not hers––and they met when he hired her as a sitter. They fell for each other and now they’re having a whirlwind love affair. She’s been living at his home, taking care of the baby together with Mason and, from what she said, they’re getting all cosy and domesticated.

  It sounds very cool and I’m happy for them.

  Of course, I never expected to be meeting Mason at my new boyfriend’s auto shop, but, here we are.

  I wonder if this is his car, and if so, what on earth Rob and Brenda have to do with it.

  We all chat for a moment about how Mason’s new little family is making out. They’re doing well, which is great, but I’m dancing with impatience to find out what the hell is going on here.

  “Okay, so let’s do what we came here to do, shall we?” Rob says. “You brought everything?”

  “Yep. It’s all here. We just need to install some hardware and then Rob will program and de-bug his script for your comm radio. That won’t take long, then me and you can start stripping her down.”

  Rob’s script? Comm radio?

  Sounds almost like…

  I open my mouth to ask a question, but Mason starts talking.

  “The car’s mint but we have some work to do to bring it up to safety regs. I’m putting Freddy on it this week, since he’ll be on your crew with me anyway. We should have her finished by the weekend.”

  “You guys are fucking miracle workers,” Mark says.

  “Eh,” Mason shrugs cheerfully. “This is what we do, remember? Build big-boy toys.” He flashes a handsome smile. “My spies tell me that registration for the race is almost full. You got that done, right?”

  “Yes, I went to the track yesterday. I registered, reserved my spot and they’ll put me on the practice roster ASAP.”

  “Good. By the way, my buddy’s gonna do the detailing,” Mason says.

  “Fantastic,” Mark says, opening the hood of the car. “What about your logo? You going with Mason Grimmell Robotics or just MGR?”

  “Full logo’s going on the hood and the initials are going on the doors,” Mason says.

  Mark nods.

  “Amanda sent the artwork for Nick’s logo on Friday, as well as the three other sponsors,” Brenda adds.

  Safety regs, artwork, sponsors…okay this car is obviously someone’s entry for the race. But whose entry is it? And who’s driving?

  Mason? Freddy?

  Not…Mark?

  Is it?

  I’m looking from one guy to the other, waiting for the shoe to drop.

  Brenda laughs. “Alright you guys, it’s time to let Marie in on the secret. Look at her! She looks like she’s ready to explode.”

  Mark looks at me and laughs, too. “Yeah, alright. Wee Marie? Allow me to introduce you to entry number 24 to the first annual Maple Mills Charity Automobile Race.”

  “Ohhh-kay,” I say, “ Who’s driving? You, Mason?”

  “Hell, naw,” Mark says, taking my hand and pulling me to him. “I’m driving. You’ll have to beat me for the Grand Prize, sweetie.” He chuckles, looking down into my face. “I hope you’re up for it.”

  I stare at Mark open-mouthed as my brain tries to process his words. “You’ll be competing?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I decided the night of our dune buggy race last week. After I dropped you off, I called Rob to get him on board. I knew I had to start the ball rolling quick.”

  Holy shit! Mark’s entering the race!

  We’ll be competing against each other.

  My mind spins, grappling with the idea.

  I don’t know whether it’s a good thing or not.

  “Ahh…and is that why you were at the track last week? Entering the race? I thought you said you were there to check things out.”

  “Well, that too. Plus, I wanted to surprise you. Are you surprised?” He kisses me quick, grinning, then goes over to the vehicle with the other men.

  Mark and Rob get inside it and start discussing the modifications they’ll be making, with Mason leaning against the roof, watching and offering comments.

  “How about that coffee
now?” Brenda asks.

  “Yeah. I could use one myself. Mark? Would it be okay if I go upstairs and put coffee on?”

  “Yes, please,” he replies. “You guys want coffee?” Mason and Rob accept the offer gratefully, and Brenda and I go upstairs to get the coffee maker started.

  Brenda watches while I open and close cupboard doors in the kitchen, looking for the coffee supplies.

  For some reason, Mark has his mugs scattered around, some stored in one cabinet, some stored in another. I gather mugs for the five of us and put the rest all together in one central cabinet.

  “Oooh, you go girl! Organizing his cupboards already,” she teases, giggling. “I did the same thing for Rob. Feathered his nest just like a little old broody hen!” Her voice rises.

  “Shush, they’ll hear you downstairs,” I say, laughing.

  “So? You don’t think they know how we women get? Mark’ll love this!”

  We get the coffee started and then sit on the couch to wait for it to brew.

  “So, Brenda, did you know about Mark entering the race when you texted me after our date?”

  “Well, not technically,” she says. “Rob didn’t tell me until after he got off the phone.”

  “And Mark didn’t want me to know?”

  “Not right away, but only because they weren’t sure they could make it happen this fast.”

  She gives me a quick re-play of the behind-the-scenes work that went into getting this car for Mark to race, starting with getting Mason to be Mark’s main sponsor.

  My mind wanders a bit as I half-listen to her chatter.

  “…and so, according to Rob, that’s the specific reason why Mark’s entering the race.”

  “What? Pardon? Sorry Bren, my mind wandered off for a bit there.”

  “No probs. I said, according to Rob, Mark’s entering the race so that he can buy equipment for the shop. He…” She pauses, licking her lips. “Okay, this is all confidential…do NOT mention that I told you this.”

  “Of course.” I keep my face carefully blank, thinking that I already know too much about Mark’s financial situation as it is.

  “If Mark wins, he can purchase the shop equipment that he needs. He’s too stubborn to let Rob co-sign a loan for him, so this is his way of trying to finance it. Rob says…”

  Her voice fades into the background as I try to let this new development sink in.

  He’s got more at stake than I do, for sure. I have family pressure, he has money pressure.

  Part of me still wants to win for the sake of my dad and my family, but now…part of me wants Mark to win, too.

  No matter what, all of me admires him for trying.

  Our romance is new, nothing is guaranteed. I know that.

  But I’m getting a good feeling about Mark. He just seems like such a good guy!

  “Did you go away again, hun?” Brenda says, giving my knee a jostle with hers.

  “Shit, yeah. Sorry!”

  “I was saying that Rob thinks Mark has a decent chance to win. He’s a very good driver.”

  “He was awesome at buggy racing. I mean, we were neck and neck the whole time. He’s fearless and aggressive. And not just on the track.”

  She laughs. “That’s Markus!” But her concerned expression immediately returns. “Okay. But what about you? I know you’re a good driver, but I wouldn’t characterize you as fearless, exactly.”

  “That’s between you and me, Bren. My nerves won’t fail me on the day. At least, I don’t think so.”

  “How was it for you at the track yesterday? Mark said it was very crowded.”

  “It was nerve-wracking. But I went to my Happy Place for my laps and did okay.”

  “Yeah?” She’s not convinced.

  “Yeah…except I fucked up my radio and didn’t even realize it until after.”

  “Shit,” she says. “How’d you manage that?”

  “I moved my helmet the wrong way and broke the wire somehow. Anyway, Dad and Tommy were pissed because I didn’t notice the radio was out. It’s like… I went so far into Zen mode, nothing else existed.” I bite my lip, thinking back to the practice. “I made some stupid mistakes, too,” I add.

  “I don’t like the sounds of that,” she says, frowning.

  “Dad and Tommy saw that I didn’t drive well. But they don’t know how far out I zoned.”

  “You’re freaking me out a little here.” Her voice is getting louder again.

  “Shhh,” I say. From the kitchen, we hear the coffee maker bubble and burp, finishing the brew.

  “Don’t shush me,” Brenda says, following me into the kitchen. “You look scared just talking about this! It could be dangerous!”

  “I don’t know about that. I’m getting lots of practice in, it’s a short race, and we won’t be going very fast.”

  “Marie. Freeway speeds are still fast.”

  “I know, but…I have to do this. Look, I don’t want to talk about this any more today. I don’t Mark to overhear.”

  “Don’t you think he has a right to know these things about you? He’ll need to know everything eventually.”

  “Eventually, yes. Right now, we’re just getting started. There’s plenty of time for him to find out how socially anxious I really am…later.”

  “If you’re worried that he won’t like you…”

  “I know, I know. I’ll tell him eventually, alright? Here, give me a hand with this coffee.”

  “Okay, okay. It’s your life,” she says, and then we take the coffee down.

  But I’m distracted now, wondering if I’m doing the right thing. Is it dishonest of me to keep my problems to myself, even at this early stage? Do I have an obligation to tell Mark every failing and frailty I have, right off the bat?

  What Brenda’s saying is true. But I am afraid that he won’t like me if he finds out I’m not the cool, confident, tattooed chick I seem to be.

  I want Mark to view me as more than a date. I want him to see me as someone mature and steady, someone he can lean on, not some delicate snowflake.

  And I want him to trust me, to tell me more about his life, his choices, his problems. To get closer to me.

  How can he do that if I’m not someone he sees as competent, or stable, or trustworthy?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Marie

  It’s lunchtime by the time I hitch a ride home with Rob and Brenda, leaving Mark and Mason to work on the vehicle in peace.

  Letting myself in the front door, I can hear heated, raised voices as soon as I go inside.

  Mom, Dad and Tommy are in the kitchen. I walk in and they all turn to look at me. Everyone looks red-faced and angry, as if they’ve been arguing for a while.

  Crap.

  One look at Tommy tells me how fed up he is. Poor Thomas! He just hates arguments and strife.

  Not that I particularly love it myself.

  The soul-destroying audit at work and the additional pressures of the race is making us teeter on the edge.

  And apparently, it’s having the same effect on Dad.

  “I told you that Mollenkamp kid was using you!” Dad barks, as soon as I walk into the room.

  I stop dead in my tracks.

  “Carson!” Mom says, putting her hands on her hips. “And I told you not to…”

  “This again!” I say, tossing my purse on the counter and crossing my arms. “You were fine and friendly with him at the track last week,” I say, hotly. “What changed?”

  “I found something out, that’s what,” he retorts.

  “Oh, what? Is he trying to use me for free parts now?”

  “Inside information, more like,” he barks.

  “What? Like, industrial secrets or something? We don’t have any, Dad! We’re an auto supply company, not the CIA, for fuck sakes!”

  “Language, missy!” Dad says.

  “That’s not all Dad’s worried about,” Tommy says, in an exasperated tone.
“We found out that Mark’s in the race now, too. They emailed the new roster. Dad thinks he entered the race to undermine you.”

  “I do not!” Dad retorts. “I merely suggested that his participation might make Marie nervous. Or, less confident or less…ambitious to win. Don’t put shitty words into my mouth or I’ll…”

  “What? Fire me? Good! You can get someone else to do your shitty audit.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Dad says. “How many times do I…”

  “Would the two of you please calm down!” Mom interjects.

  They all start talking and yelling at once, fingers pointing and hands waving, voices getting louder and louder.

  We’ve had tons of family fights over the years. This isn’t even the worst one. But somehow, right now, I can’t stand all this yelling. It’s just too much, way too much.

  “Stop!” I shriek, putting my hands over my ears. “Everyone stop!”

  Unbelievably, everyone stops. Dad crosses his arms, steps back and looks away, shaking his head.

  Mom, sighing heavily, holds up both her hands, then takes a seat on one of the stools by the island.

  Tommy gets a soda from the fridge, opens it and drains half of it in a few strong swallows. Then he leans against the counter, crosses one ankle over the other and lets out a rude burp.

  My dad crosses his arms, then puts his hands on his waist, then crosses his arms again, before rubbing his bald head and heaving a big sigh.

  Perched in her chair, Mom’s foot sways, showing her agitation.

  Sighing, I ask: “Could you please tell us; what’s this all about, Dad?

  Dad runs his hand over his head again, stopping to massage the back of his neck. “It’s just that… he…I…Dammit. Alright, look…he…he…” He licks his lips and rubs his head again. “ The thing is…the problem is…Mark was seen with, ah…um…” He stops talking, looks away, mutters under his breath and licks his lips again. “Ah, Jesus! Just tell me this: Did you tell Mark anything about any of our clients? Something that no one is supposed to know?”

  “Did I tell him something no one is supposed to know? Like what? I don’t know anything no one’s supposed to know!” I look to my mom, who rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

  I look at Tommy.

  He shrugs, lifting his hands. “Yeah, he asked me the same question. What the fuck does that even mean?”