Orion Cross My Sky

by Rosa Sophia

  She giggled. “I’m not very good with people.”

  “I know. I can tell. But you’re warming up to me okay.” He took another sip of his water, then added, “After I lured you in by showing you that scan tool.”

  She’d marveled at the computer as they’d sat in a customer’s car and he’d shown her how she could watch what the engine was doing by observing the scan tool as it graphed everything in detail. Pete had watched them from afar, seeming interested in the young girl’s fascination with the garage.

  Tammy grinned. “I loved that scan tool.”

  “It’s a good one. Very expensive. But Pete’s been doing real well. I’m the newest hire. I’m getting ready to take my first ASE exam.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’ll give me a certification in electrical, and it’ll look good to other companies if I decide to leave or move away.”

  “You’re thinking of moving?”

  “No, not really.” He shrugged. “Not out of the area, anyway. I need to get out of my parents’ house, though. I’m trying to save money for an apartment.”

  He caught a glimpse of something in her expression that made him want to get to know her. She averted her eyes, her hair slipping around her face. Her brow crinkled and she took on the façade of someone who had a lot to hide, someone who had a lot of pain. He could see it, and he knew what it looked like because he’d been there, too.

  “Are you okay?” He spoke in a soft voice.

  “Hmm? Yeah. I’m fine. Can I watch you work some more?”

  “Sure. But only if you promise me that you’ll go home and eat a nice big lunch.”

  When he winked at her, she blushed. Even her nose turned an endearing shade of pink.

  For the rest of the lunch hour, Tammy asked him all kinds of questions relating to engines, transmissions, and all manner of automotive work. She craved information, and even wanted to hear stories about crazy customers. Orion was happy to oblige, telling her about the weirdest people who’d come to the shop, and the strangest things he’d found in their cars.

  “You learn a lot about a person by bein’ their mechanic,” he continued, brushing his hands off with a napkin as he finished the last of his sandwich. “And you can tell a lot about a person by the car they drive.”

  “How so?” She straightened in the torn-up armchair, her hands folded in her lap.

  “One time, I had to go into a customer’s trunk to get to their spare tire, and I found all this lingerie, handcuffs, a vibrator, and a cat-o-nine-tails.”

  Tammy’s eyes widened, and that rosy hue returned to her skin. “Oh.”

  “I won’t tell ya who that was.” He laughed, then got up to throw his trash away. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was time to return to work. Tammy was still sitting in the chair with a faraway expression on her face. “You comin’? I gotta do a brake job if you’d like to watch.”

  “Oh, sure.” She jumped to her feet and started to follow him to the garage.

  “Hope I didn’t upset you,” he said, pushing the door open.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, that story I just told you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it.” She shook her head. “No big deal.”

  As Orion worked, he couldn’t help but wonder about Tammy, the kind of person she was, and what was going through her mind as he tugged off a rusty rotor and brought it over to the brake lathe. He wanted to get to know her, but he didn’t want to scare her off, either.

  And he couldn’t help but fear that his life, his family, everything about him, would eventually make her turn away.

  Nobody wanted to be around Orion, he was sure of it. Nobody except Zane, and that might’ve been because he was fucked up, too.

  Half the time, I wish I were dead. And who the hell wants to be around a person like that?

  11

  Chapter Eleven

  She ran her hand over the hood, feeling the grit of dust beneath her fingertips. The sensation of the cold metal was somehow exhilarating, and the decal of the bird below the shaker captivated her attention.

  She looked to Orion, open-mouthed. He chuckled.

  “It’s the original,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “But when we re-do the paint job, it’ll have to go.”

  “Why?” She gasped, not bothering to hide her disappointment. For some reason, she’d immediately fallen in love with the original decal on the hood. It had been there so long, and it seemed wrong to remove it now.

  Orion shrugged. “It’s startin’ to wear at the corners, see?” He flicked at it, then turned and sat on the front of the car.

  “So, what’ll you do?”

  “Have a new one put on.” He watched her as she circled the car.

  Tammy felt power radiating from it, and she knew it was the same power she’d picked up on when she heard the engine roaring down Main Street.

  She ran her hands along the body, touching every part she could reach, opening the heavy door and sniffing at the inside. The interior of the car needed work, too.

  “We’ll re-do everything,” Orion was saying. “We’ve already done a lot.” He straightened, stepping away from the hood. “You can help…if you want.”

  “Really?” Tammy had never been so excited before. She wanted to jump into his arms, hug him, thank him for accepting her into his life.

  But she didn’t. She just imagined it.

  “Of course,” he said, the corner of his lip twitching up.

  “What’s its name?” she asked, stepping back.

  He leaned into the car, and popped the hood. “The Clearwater Terror,” he replied with a wink.

  * * *

  By the time Tammy finally had something to eat, it was nearly three o’clock. Clara would be out of school soon, and she was working her first four p.m. until closing shift at the library. Tammy didn’t think she could wait until later to tell her cousin about everything that had transpired that day, so she took a walk to Clearwater Public Library.

  The scent of binding glue and paper met her nostrils as she entered the main circulation area and found Clara looking pensive at the front desk. There was hardly anyone around, other than a middle-aged man in a striped multi-colored shirt. The hair he had left was dark brown and neatly combed, and he grinned when he saw Tammy.

  “Hello! Welcome to the library.”

  “Uh, hi…”

  Clara appeared excited to see her. “Tammy, this is Mark Simmons. He’s a clerk, too. He’s starting my training since the manager isn’t here, and the director’s already left for the day.”

  “She’s a little shy,” Mark joked, adjusting the nametag on his shirt.

  Clara reached across the counter and took Tammy’s hand. “But she’s the coolest gal I know.”

  “Stop it.” Tammy rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to come see you at work, and tell you about my day.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Clara glanced at Mark, who waved with a show of indifference.

  “You can chat, don’t worry about it,” he told her. “We’ve been slow for a while now.”

  Clara grinned. “So, what’d you do today?”

  “I hung out at Pete’s Service Station.”

  “Really? That’s awesome. How’s Orion?”

  Tammy blanched. “You mean, you know he works there?”

  “Of course. I know him through some of the kids at school. Not very well, but—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Anger coursed through her veins as she gritted her teeth, trying to keep her voice to a whisper.

  “Relax, Tam. I told you I knew of him. You already said you were interested in checking out the shop, but I didn’t think you would go if you knew Orion worked there.” She shrugged. “Sorry, I guess I just know you real well.”

  Tammy deflated against the counter. “You’re right.”

  “You want to be a mechanic?” Mark interrupted. “That’s neat. My aunt was a mechanic for years, a diesel mechanic.”

  “Wow. I woul
d love to do that.”

  “What got you into it?” Mark asked.

  “I…I don’t know.” She turned back to Clara, adding, “But I’ll tell you what made me want to do this even more. Orion’s 1979 Trans Am. Remember that engine I heard when we were here over the weekend? It was Orion. Sheriff Ryder pulled him over and gave him a warning about speeding…and an expired registration.”

  “No way!” Clara gasped.

  “He showed me the car.” At the thought of it, her pulse sped up and she rocked on her heels. “He said I could help him and his friend Zane work on it.”

  “That’s awesome, I—”

  Mark interrupted their conversation, gesturing toward the young couple who had just walked up to the desk with a stack of DVDs. “Clara, would you like to observe?”

  “Sure.” She waved goodbye to Tammy, mouthing, “See you at home!”

  Tammy stepped away, then browsed through the books for a moment, before heading downstairs to use the bathroom before she left. On the way out of the restroom, she saw an office she’d never noticed before, tucked away into a shadowed alcove. The door was wide open, bright light flowing out into the dingy hallway with its scratched wood floors, the white-washed walls decorated by cartoonish posters from previous summer reading programs. The gold-plated plaque on the heavy door read Town Historian, but no one seemed to be there.

  As Tammy turned to leave, she was shoved to the side by a sudden impact, dazed as she realized someone had run right into her. Papers exploded into the air and for a fleeting second, she was reminded of her sixth birthday—just before her father gave up AA—when he’d thrown confetti everywhere and worn a clown’s red nose to make her laugh. Now Tammy was crimson, and this time with embarrassment.

  “I-I-I’m so sorry!” After the collision, she stumbled back and came face to face with a thin woman in jeans, motorcycle boots, and a leather jacket. She bent to help her collect the papers, which were strewn everywhere. “I’m so sorry, so sorry!”

  “It’s okay. I’m always doing stuff like that.” The woman’s voice was nasal, and she had an English accent. She scooped up the majority of the papers, and Tammy handed her the rest. She huffed, leaning to one side as she tucked the stack against her and nodded toward the open office door. “Wanna come in?”

  “In there? The historian’s office?”

  “Yeah, sure. Have a seat.” She tugged Tammy by the arm and urged her into a soft, blue-cushioned office chair. “You look a little off-kilter. I’ve been told running into me is like slamming into an articulated lorry.”

  “Artic...” Tammy paused. “What?” She did feel a little dizzy as she leaned back in the chair, taking in the pale yellow walls and the framed photos and newspaper articles.

  “Right, sorry! Been in the states ten years now, but I fly back and forth, tend to confuse people. That’s an eighteen-wheeler, I mean.”

  “Oh,” Tammy mumbled, resting her hands on her thighs. “You run into people often?”

  “No, not really.” She laughed musically. “Well, every now and then. Mum always said I was a klutz.”

  For the first time, Tammy got a good look at the woman. She was probably in her early thirties, and her short dark hair was cut in a cute, rounded style that framed her narrow face, making her look a bit elfish. Her dark eyes were wide and filled with energy, and she moved her nimble fingers expertly as she paged through folders in a filing cabinet, tucking away the papers that had gone everywhere in the hallway.

  “By the way,” she said, glancing up, “I’m Alex.” She finished filing and sat at the desk opposite Tammy, crossing one leg over the other.

  “I’m Tammy.”

  “Nice to meet you, then. Feel okay after all that? I’m really, really sorry.”

  “Oh, it’s no big deal.” She fiddled with her thumbs, nervous. “I should’ve looked.”

  “Are you interested in local history?” Alex’s eyes glimmered.

  “Um.” It occurred to her the town historian might think she was looking for her because she’d been outside the office. It took every ounce of courage within her to admit the truth. “I was just going to the bathroom.”

  Alex sank into her black leather chair, sighing. The desk behind her was flush against the wall, so there was nothing between them. Nothing to hide the woman’s obvious discontent. “It’s all right. You know how many times I pop out of this office to see if someone needs information, or is just plain curious, only to hear them say ‘I was going to the bathroom’?”

  Tammy shook her head slowly.

  “Well, it happens all the time. It’s not easy getting people interested in local history, especially when my office is buried in the back here. I’ve been mistaken for the library director a couple of times.” She gestured toward the plaque on the open door. “No one ever reads that.”

  “So, you’re having trouble getting people interested?” Tammy glanced around, seeing a number of remarkable black and white photos on the walls. “I don’t know much about Clearwater history, but it’s such a nice little town. I don’t get why people wouldn’t be interested.”

  “Well, the old folks are interested, but that’s because they are history.” Alex laughed again, and the timbre of it caused Tammy to suspect she was a smoker. “I’m just joking, though. The people around here are really nice. It’s just that nowadays, people are interested in the next great technology, they’re interested in the future. They’re not interested in the dusty old newspapers I’ve got in here, or the rest of the archives we have in the library.”

  “I’m interested,” Tammy said, and she meant it. There wasn’t much she wasn’t interested in. She craved knowledge, anything at all, and she was sitting in a treasure trove of information. Not just the library, but the history archives. She wondered how anyone could ignore something so grand, and she said as much to Alex.

  The unlikely town historian beamed. “You know, I could use some help around here, what with Heritage Day coming up. Would you like to be my assistant?”

  She found herself saying yes. When she walked home shortly thereafter, she marveled over how far she’d come. In the short time she and Clara had been living together, she’d slowly been trying to acclimate herself. Every moment caused her discomfort, but despite her unwillingness to meet people or make friends, she’d met Orion and now Alex.

  Maybe she could handle this. If only the nightmares would stop.

  12

  Chapter Twelve

  Orion tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. He could see Tammy out of the corner of his eye. He watched as she appraised the Trans Am—the Clearwater Terror. Her soft, light brown hair cascaded over the collar of her black pea coat, and her round nose was pinkish from the chill in the air. She ran her tongue over her lip, and he wished his lips were on hers, his arms around her.

  He knew it was too soon, but he couldn’t stop his growing attraction to her.

  Something’s not right, he reminded himself. He had to be careful, so as not to frighten her off. The first time he’d seen her, he recognized fear in her eyes. He’d felt that same fear in his life, so he knew it when he saw it. Most men would’ve run at the first sign of trouble, but not him. He knew what pain was like, and he wasn’t afraid of it.

  He felt it every day, lancing through his face like a red hot poker. Like an electrical shock. Dull, aching pain. Sharp, shooting pain. That, coupled with the emotional pain of his home life, had caused him to attempt suicide when he was only fourteen.

  He’d been sent to a hospital, his mother’s drinking had worsened, and the doctors finally discovered what was wrong with him, what made him hurt.

  Trigeminal neuralgia, they called it. A disorder of the fifth cranial nerve. It was likely it would worsen as he got older, but somehow, he worked around it, and the anti-convulsants helped. He refused to stop doing the things he loved, even though air tools caused vibrations that sent his nerves into spasms, and loud noises often made him double over in pain.

  What wo
uld she say if she knew?

  Finally, he turned and looked at her full-on.

  “What do you think, now that you’ve had a closer look?” he asked, nodding toward the car.

  She was walking around it now, inspecting it, peeking underneath and inside.

  “I love it even more than the first time I saw it,” she exclaimed.

  “You sound so excited.” He chuckled.

  “I am. It’s so neat. I can really work on it with you?”

  “Of course. And we’ve got space heaters out here for the cold days, so we’ll be comfortable.”

  “This is amazing!” She practically bounced up and down, her shyness around him dissipating with the presence of this magnificent beast.

  “I’m glad you’re gettin’ more comfortable around me. When I first saw you out there by that wreck, I thought you’d never talk to me.”

  Tammy shrugged, averting her eyes. “Well, I…I guess.”

  “Can I ask you something?” He sat down on the hood, below the talons of the great firebird, and she hopped up beside him.

  “Sure.”

  “What were you doing talking to Old Bruce?”

  “Oh, him? We talk from time to time. Whenever I walk by. I’ve only been living with Clara at the apartment for a few weeks now, but I see him almost every day.”

  “Nobody talks to him.” Orion realized his words sounded mean, but it was true—no one did.

  “He’s nice. The only nice guy I’ve met in a while.”

  “What about me?” he teased.

  “You’re…nice.” She picked at the dead skin around her fingernail, and swung her feet against the cracked plastic bumper of the car.

  “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

  “No, no, you’re not.” When she shook her head, her hair slipped around her face, framing her azure eyes.

  “So, do you live in one of those little apartment buildings?” he asked.

  “No.” She seemed hesitant before continuing. “It’s an apartment attached to a house on Grizzly Lane.”