Just as Sass found the keys, the ringing between her ears stopped, only to be replaced by something worse—Jordan’s voice.
“Sass, if you’re home, please pick up the phone. I—”
She yanked the cord for the answering machine out of the wall, picked up the defunct device, and carried it out the door, where she dumped it in the trash bin. Then she got into the truck and drove. Her instinct was to head out to the cabin, but once on the outskirts of town she stopped and pulled over at a familiar spot, her eyes searching the ditch for the small cross she knew was there somewhere.
Closing her eyes, she tried unsuccessfully to regulate her breathing. Every other breath seemed to get stuck in her throat and Sass felt as if she wasn’t getting enough air. She couldn’t go to the cabin. It was impossible. The minute she walked in she’d smell him. She’d look around and see him. She’d lie on the bed and feel him. No. The cabin was out of the question.
After a backhand across her damp cheek, Sass put the truck into first and turned across the highway to head back into town. She pulled up outside of Libby’s complex, parked, and sat for a moment staring at the very blurry light outside of Libby’s door. Sass rubbed her eyes—hard—and then made herself get out. She rang Libby’s bell and waited. When no one answered, she rang again, standing on tiptoes trying to peer into the half window at the top of the door. When Libby still didn’t answer, Sass knocked on the door. Pounded. Finally a door opened. It wasn’t Libby’s though, it was her neighbor’s.
“Would you cut it out,” a tired young woman said. “She’s not home.”
Sass tried to apologize but her “sorry” turned into a strange gargled sound, so she spun around and ran back to the truck. Gunning the engine, she sped off, having no idea where she was going, barely able to see the road with the streetlights casting a fuzzy glow through the windshield.
It was as if the truck drove itself as she found herself parked outside the familiar wrought iron gate. Locked for the night, of course. It took her three tries to grab the top and hoist herself over. Then, with only the moonlight as a guide, she wandered between the rows until she found a familiar sight. Sass collapsed. Her hiccupping sobs were joined by the whisper of wind between the branches of the trees. She curled up into a ball on the damp, grassy mound.
“Mom,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?” She stroked the grass beneath her. “God, I need you. I need you so much.”
Sass writhed with the unbearable pain in her heart, but her sobs were only met with stony silence.
…
Jordan went into the shop early. He couldn’t sleep anyway and there was no point prolonging the inevitable. He dropped the legal-sized box on the desk and began packing up his belongings. They didn’t even take up a fraction of the box. He’d held a job at the shop since graduating from college, yet all he had to show for it was one third of a legal box of personal effects.
With a sigh, he carried the box out of his office and down the hall. He stopped in the open doorway of his father’s office. It was no surprise his dad was there, he lived at the shop. But something told Jordan his dad was there waiting for him.
Stewart sat in the semi-darkness of the room, his reading glasses riding low on his nose. Without glancing up, he called to Jordan. “Come on in.”
After a deep breath, Jordan moved into the office and sat opposite his father, setting the box down at his feet.
Stewart Carlyle put the paperwork down in front of him, removed his glasses and finally looked at Jordan. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I fucked up. Again.”
His father blinked twice and then set his reading glasses back on his face. He held out a sheath of papers. “Do you know what I have here?”
Jordan shook his head.
“An agreement to buy Hogan’s.”
“Really? Buck still wants to sell? Even after what happened?”
“Well, he’s not so sure anymore. He says he doesn’t want to rush anything.”
“I see.”
“I think he has a few reservations about Carlyle’s ethics.”
“Understandable.”
“Here’s the problem. Buck Hogan is selling—it’s just a matter of when and to whom. So, if we don’t buy Hogan’s, someone else will and I’m willing to bet Gerry Ware over in Boulder will put in an offer.”
Jordan swallowed and met his father’s eyes.
“We can’t have that Jordan. I want Hogan’s. I want their client list. I want their equipment. I want their mechanics. Buck’s asking a lot, but I’m willing to pay it. As long as I get everything I want.” Stewart Carlyle rubbed the back of his neck as he regarded Jordan.
“So, what are you going to do?”
Shaking his head slowly from Stewart said, “I’m not going to do a damn thing.”
“What?”
“You are.”
“Huh?”
His dad regarded him over his reading glasses. “You’re a Carlyle, aren’t you? You made the mess, you clean it up.”
“But…”
“No buts, Jordan. I don’t care how you do it, I don’t care what you say or do, as long as it is legal and ethical. All I care about is buying Hogan’s and having Sass Hogan’s talent become a Carlyle asset.”
…
“Sass Hogan?”
Sass’s body ached all over. She groaned in effort as she rolled over and sat up.
“I thought that was you.”
With eyes that felt like sandpaper, Sass turned her gaze on the police officer standing over her. “Hey, Chuck.”
“What are you doing here? You know it’s illegal…” His voice trailed off as his gaze took in the granite slab behind her head. “Oh.”
Rubbing her eyes, Sass followed Chuck’s gaze to the cold granite of her makeshift headboard. She read the words she could repeat by heart.
Anita May Hogan, Beloved Wife, Mother, and Friend.
May 6, 1967- September 20, 1996
She pushed herself to her feet and dusted off the dirt, grass, and leaves that clung to her clothes.
“I’m sorry, Sass, but I need you to leave. At least until the cemetery is officially open.”
Rolling her shoulders to release some of the stiffness, Sass said, “Yeah, I know. I’m going.”
Ten minutes later, Sass found herself at the shop. Like a robot, she clocked in without even acknowledging Al as he sat at the desk filling out orders for replacement body parts. She also ignored Al’s greeting of, “Hey yah, Sasquatch. What’d you do? Sleep in the woods?”
“Where’s Buck?”
“He’s in his office. Some meeting. Said not to be disturbed.”
Sass chewed on her thumb and realized she hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. She reached in her pocket for some change and stuck the coins into the vending machine where the ancient candy bars and bags of chips needed dusting off before they could be consumed. Without paying any attention to the taste, Sass ate the Baby Ruth while she paged through the current work orders. “Where’s the Firebird?” Sass asked.
“Cooper’s latest? She’s out in the yard.”
Cooper Laing was a Firebird junkie with money to burn. He had a collection of about twenty beautifully restored birds. Twelve of them had been done by Hogan’s. “I’ll get started on her.”
“Not necessary. Why don’t you help Manny in the hotbox?”
“I’d rather work on the bird.”
Al sipped his coffee as he skimmed his order sheet. “The bird’s taken care of. Manny could use a hand.”
“What do you mean the bird’s taken care of? Who’s working on her?”
Al glanced up. He didn’t need to answer, Sass could read it in his expression. Without another word, she stormed out into the yard where Carlos was busy sanding the body of the 1977 Formula Firebird. Like St. Helen’s a moment before eruption, she trembled and shook with all the anger, hurt, and emotion of the last two days. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was so low
it was almost inaudible.
Carlos glanced up. His eyes became hooded and unreadable at her approach. “I’m cleaning the Firebird; what does it look like?”
She stared Carlos down, but he didn’t cower. He simply stood up and puffed out his chest, his black eyes wary.
The pressure inside Sass grew to the point of eruption. “Get out!”
The muscle in his cheek twitched. “The only one who can fire me is Buck. And,” he gave her an up and down appraisal, “you’re not him.”
Sass charged. She shoved at his shoulders, shouting the whole time, “Get out, get out, get out!”
Grabbing her hands and blocking her forward momentum with his body, Carlos shouted, “Basta!” He continued in a long-winded diatribe in Spanish, for which Sass could only make out a few words. Finally, he said something she could understand. “You need some serious help, you know that?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” Carlos’s eyes darkened. “You got an anger-management problem.”
“What?”
“You smashed up the Mustang.”
“So?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Because you thought it was mine.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re crazy.”
“And you’re a lying, cheating bastard!”
“Cheating? You think I cheated?”
“I saw you, asshole. With my own two eyes. Your hands on Tori’s ass, grinding on the dance floor.”
Carlos let loose another mouthful of Spanish. Sass was pretty sure she recognized a few choice curse words. Then his face grew somber. “How the fuck could I be cheating on you? Huh? Tell me that. We didn’t even have a fucking relationship.”
Of all the dirty, rotten denials, this one had to be the worst. “I can’t believe you.”
“What?” Carlos held her hands tighter and looked deep into her eyes, his tic giving away how upset he was. “Middle-of-the-night booty calls? Is that what you call a relationship?”
Sass sputtered in response.
“Wham, bam, thank you, man? I wouldn’t even be done before you were sprinting for the door.”
“I—” She opened her mouth to deny his claim but she hadn’t expected his argument to go off in this direction.
His grip on her loosened, and his voice dropped even lower. “You didn’t want a relationship. You didn’t even want to be seen with me. We work together and we sometimes slept together. That’s all you ever wanted.” He made his voice go high. “It’s only sex, Carlos. That’s all. Did you forget who said that?”
“But—” Sass stumbled backward as if Carlos had pushed her.
Shaking his head, he pressed his lips together. “You know, all that time we were hooking up, all I really wanted was to be with you,” Carlos said quietly. He glanced over Sass’s shoulder and, in his normal voice, said, “Hey, Al.”
“Everything okay out here?”
Turning at the sound of his voice, Sass could only stare. Her emotions were in upheaval and her brain wasn’t capable of forming a response of any kind.
Al put his arm around her shoulders and ushered her back inside the shop. He sat her down at the coffee machine and spun her chair around to face him. “Carlos did nothing wrong.”
“But he—”
“He was offered a job. He went for a job interview. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“But—”
“There is no one in this little scenario that is beyond blame. Least of all you.”
“I know, but—”
“I think you should take the rest of the day off. You aren’t looking so good.”
“I’m fine. I’m—”
The door to Buck’s office opened and Al glanced behind him to nod at Buck. Sass stared at her father. Feeling betrayed by everyone around her she caught a glimpse of the man following Buck out of his office.
Jordan.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Hi, Sass.”
“What are you doing here?” Sass glanced accusingly between Buck and Al. “What is he doing here?”
“Among other things, he’s come to make amends,” Buck said. “I’m putting him to work.”
Sass stood and backed slowly away from the three men. “Here? Buck, are you out of your mind?”
“Sass, listen. I know you’re upset.”
“You think?” Sass didn’t wait for an explanation. She stormed out of the shop and got in the truck, banging the heavy door shut behind her. Her hunger pains forced her into the parking lot of the Pit—the place where the horror of the last month had all begun.
Well, it wasn’t all a horror. For a while there, things were going pretty good. Images of Jordan at the cabin came to mind. Sass shook her head. What was she thinking? Things weren’t good. Everything had been a lie. A horrible, stupid, stinking lie.
With a sigh, she crossed the parking lot and pushed the doors open to the saloon. The stale smell of beer and greasy food hit her full in the face. She sat down at the empty bar and waited until Sam appeared from the back.
“Hey, Sass. What are you doing here on a Tuesday morning?”
“I’m starving. Can you make me an omelet or something?”
“The kitchen doesn’t open for another ten minutes.”
“That’s fine. I’ll wait.”
“You look like hell.” He poured some orange juice into a glass and slid it over to her.
“So I’ve been told.” Sass drank the orange juice down in three gulps.
“What’s up?”
“My life sucks. It’s a total wreck.”
“Ah, c’mon. Can’t be that bad.”
“Oh yeah it can.”
Twenty minutes later, she had a steaming plate of eggs, hash browns, and sausage in front of her. Sass doused it all in ketchup and started to eat. She heard the saloon doors bang open then shut but she didn’t bother to turn around to see who else had nothing to do on a Tuesday morning.
Someone sat on the stool right next to her. Sass stopped eating. She knew who it was before she even turned. A cloud of fancy perfume followed Mary-Lynn wherever she went.
“What are you doing here?” Sass asked with her mouth full of eggs.
“I’m the evil stepmother. I’m here to make your life a living hell.”
“Get in line.”
Mary-Lynn chuckled. “At least you’ve still got your sense of humor.”
“Not really.” Finally, Sass turned to her and said, “What do you want?”
“I want to get to know you.”
“Great.” Sass shoveled more food into her mouth.
Mary-Lynn tapped her lacquered nails against the surface of the bar and then called to Sam who was stocking the coolers on the other side of the bar. “Excuse me. Would you bring us a bottle of Southern Comfort please?”
Sam took his time bringing the bottle over. “It’s barely past ten.”
Mary-Lynn glanced at her watch. “It’s past noon in Florida,” she drawled. “That’s good enough for me.”
Sam left the bottle and two shot glasses on the counter. “I guess you know how to pour yourself.”
“Uh-huh. Thanks, doll.”
Mary-Lynn had just called Sam doll. Sam was six foot two and two-fifty at least. He was no doll. Without turning, she asked, “Do you call everyone doll?”
“Mmm,” Mary-Lynn hummed as she poured the first round. “Not everyone.” She slid the glass in front of Sass.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing. Having a drink together on a Tuesday morning probably isn’t going to help.” She pushed the glass away. “And you can tell Buck if he wants to talk to me, he should come here himself.”
Mary-Lynn patted Sass’s hand. “This was my idea, not your father’s. Besides, we both know talking isn’t his strong suit. I, on the other hand, am a very good talker.”
Sass groaned.
“I’m not here to be your mother; I’m not here to win over your affection. I’m here to try to get to know you.”
/> “You’ll probably regret it. Most do.”
Mary-Lynn’s laugh sounded like little tiny bells. The kind of thing that Sass would probably break if she got her hands on it. “I’m going to marry your dad, and I think it would be nice, for all of us, if you and I could have some kind of relationship.”
At the word relationship, Sass thought of Carlos and what he’d said in the yard earlier that morning.
You know, all that time we were hooking up, all I really wanted was to be with you.
She blinked once, then twice. She massaged the space between her brows, thinking about the thing she’d had with Carlos. The reality of it. She swallowed—hard. Then she grabbed the shot glass closest to her and downed it. “Okay, let’s get to know each other.”
…
“You can stop checking out the window. She’s not coming back today.”
“Huh?” Jordan jumped and nearly knocked over the coffee pot at the unexpected voice behind him. He turned and nodded at the man standing there. “You’re Al McGregor, right?”
“Mmhmm.”
Jordan stuck his hand out to shake Al’s. “I’m—”
“I know who you are.” Al didn’t take his hand but moved around Jordan to pour himself some coffee.
“Right.” Jordan dropped his hand and forced a smile. “I guess Buck told you why I’m here.”
“He told me something about you offering to work for Hogan’s for free for the next few weeks.” Al didn’t sound too pleased about the prospect.
“That’s right.”
“Why would you do that? Plan to steal shop materials next?”
“No,” Jordan said. “Buck knows our intentions. Carlyle’s wants to buy Hogan’s. This is our way—my way—of apologizing for what happened.”
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