Page 25 of Crimson Love

I pull out a drawer and grab a handful of tissues. I do my best to clean myself up and calm my racing heart.

It can’t be.

There’s no way.

I’ve been so careful. More than careful. I’ve been meticulous.

I turn to my cell that sits on my upgraded job offer. Something so good, and something downright scary right next to each other.

And they don’t come close to balancing each other out. That damn text tipped the scales. Nothing can be good enough to outweigh it.

I forget about the offer and focus on the message staring up at me with innocent little letters.

But there’s nothing innocent about it.

Unknown Number – Hello, my pet.

CHAPTER SEVEN

GRAND THEFT AUTO

Jett

“W elp, son. We’ve got a long list on our hands.” I’ve been sitting in the waiting room of the Grease Me Up Garage just off Main Street drinking coffee that tastes like it’s been rewarmed from last week. Since I’ve consumed rations provided by Uncle Sam for a good part of my life, I do not consider myself picky, but this coffee resembles engine oil. Fitting, given my surroundings. Even the waiting room is a corner with two chairs located next to the single lift.

Clive looks like he’s lived a long, hard life beneath an engine. He’s a few months past due for a haircut, his shirt that reads I Like Lube is dirty in more ways than one, and he’s almost as round as he is tall.

Still, when I pulled Lennon’s beater into the parking lot on a wing and prayer and explained that I hotwired her car because she needed new tires, his cackle echoed off the old metal walls and then off a mountain or two. He looked up at me with a crazy-ass grin and exclaimed, “Well, hot damn. That’s the best thing I’ve heard since last Tuesday!”

I have no idea what went down on Tuesday, but it doesn’t matter. He stopped tinkering around on a station wagon that might be older than Lennon’s sedan and went to work.

That was an hour ago.

I choke down the last of my coffee and toss the paper cup into the overflowing trashcan in the corner. “Give it to me straight, Clive. I can handle it.”

Nothing could look more out of place than the bright pink sticky note pinched between his grimy thumb and forefinger. “Tires are a given. Those things are slicker than snot. I could smell an oil change the moment you rolled in. Brake pads ... what brake pads? She’s coastin’ around on rotors. Lord almighty, don’t even get me started on the fluids. We’ve got transmission, brake, radiator, differential, antifreeze, and if you want to get fancy, we can dump some windshield washer shit in there. I’ve got the good stuff, none of that junk you’ll find at Wallyworld.”

“That’s...” I pause and wonder if I should push it off a cliff and break open the trust fund for the first time for a new car, before finishing, “...a lot of fluids.”

“Fluids are my specialty,” he states. I wonder if he has the T-shirt to announce that to the world too. “Hold your horses, there, hero. I’m not done.”

I cross my arms and wonder how I’m going to explain to Lennon that I hotwired her car to put new tires on it, and I have no clue when she’ll get it back. “You’ve got a lot squeezed on that little sticky note.”

He gives it a flick. “My granddaughter leaves these here. I keep her after school for my daughter. If she asked me to paint the Grease Me Up pink, I’d do it. I turn into a pile of mush for that girl.”

“That’s great. I need to move this along so I can get Lennon’s car back to her. What else is on your list?”

His eyes widen and he lets out a low, long whistle. “I’m a one-man shop. There’s no way I can finish the front side of the list today, let alone the whole second sticky note.”

“There’s a second sticky note?”

He produces the second half of his list from his breast pocket. “Damn right. I’m thorough. I haven’t even gotten to the plugs and belts. She’s even got lights out. I’m surprised Chief Moretti hasn’t pulled her over for that alone. Hell, I’m the farthest thing from the po-po, but I noticed those ‘Bama plates are expired. If I put her vehicle number into the system, it could flag the higher ups. Sometimes they look, sometimes they don’t.”

“That’s a lot.” I turn to look at Lennon’s ride that’s already taken apart. It’s on the lift with nuts and bolts scattered beneath it on the greasy floor. I wanted a distraction. It seems I chose well. “Do it.”

Clive is taken aback and exclaims, “All of it?”

I motion toward the mess that I can’t make heads or tails of, and I can usually make my way around under the hood. “Why not? The snow is coming. Might as well do it up right while it’s here.”