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Again.
As the car rises on the lift, I take a moment and look around the garage. I like it here. It’s quiet, and on the smaller side. I was relieved to find something similar to the garage I worked at back home, as the bigger, busier garages literally give me a headache. They’re noisy, managers are constantly breathing down your neck and trying to get you to upsell or over diagnose problems, and there are just too many people around. In garages like this one, I have my own quiet bay where I can work as I want to, and work honestly.
Being able to start right away is a bonus, too. They recently had a mechanic leave, so it was perfect timing as they were eager to bring someone in to keep up with their long list of loyal customers.
And it helps that the owner, Bill, is a UFC fan and Max was one of his favorite fighters. Bill calls him a “hometown boy”. So, being a big fan, he understands the sport and the training required. But when he told me that he can be flexible on my work hours each week to support this, I said no. I will always work full time until it’s impossible to do so. If I have the time, I will work. It’s better than the alternative.
The car reaches the top of the lift and I move under it to begin the oil change. Today is my first day here, but I’ve quickly found my groove. Bill let me set up my bay how I wish, and as long as appointments get in and the work gets done, he doesn’t really care how I do it. The garage gets a mix of routine maintenance appointments like oil changes and tire swaps, but also has the capacity to diagnose and work on larger problems too, which is what I really enjoy. They don’t do motorcycles here, but Bill is open to it if I want to start. Maybe that’s something I can do on weekends whenever I have some spare time.
I reach up to remove the drain plug from the engine and my phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it, but it buzzes again and again and again. I briefly close my eyes and sigh. Another fucking group chat.
I continue to ignore it, pulling the plug and placing the oil pan underneath it to collect the oil. But as the oil drains, I pull my phone out. If Max is texting about training tonight, I don’t want to miss it.
But nope, I was right. It’s a fucking group chat for the gym. They’re all talking about last night and how much fun they had. I quickly scroll through it and watch the texts roll in. There are inside jokes and nicknames already. How? It’s been one day. I furrow my brow as I watch them all texting, not understanding this at all.
I see some texts intended for me, saying they wished I could have come, but my eyes laser in on one text in particular.
Luca
Yeah, Ty, you’ll have to come next time. But you might need to talk. *shrugging emoji* It’s called having fun… you should try it!
I don’t even read the texts after that, as I lock my phone and toss it on the workbench. Fucking asshole. I know he’s just looking to get a reaction out of me, but he knows nothing about me. And now I’m getting pissed off for reasons other than Luca poking at me.
The last of the oil drips into the pan, as my phone continues to buzz with texts on the workbench. I walk back over to it, open the group chat, and mute it without reading anymore texts.
The pep talk I gave myself last night echoes in my thoughts.
I don’t need distractions. I will be the better fighter. I have a plan and I am sticking to it, no matter who or what tries to get in my way. Especially Luca. Let him get distracted and spend too much time making friends, jokes and mistakes.
I’ll be coming out on top.
SEVEN
“No way, I’ll bet $50 on the Blues to take it tonight.” I point a finger at Elijah as he smirks at me.
He shrugs, opening his locker. “Sure, just means I’ll clean up. Habs are in it to win.”
I shake my head with a chuckle and open my locker as well. Elijah is from Montreal, so he’s a huge Canadiens fan, and I’m a massive St. Louis Blues fan, obviously. And I get pretty fired up when it comes to hockey. So we spent the majority of last night talking about it while we were out for a drink with everyone, and tonight, our two teams play each other. It’s on.
Everyone is starting to trickle in to train this evening, and I am pumped. Mostly. I’m pumped to train, and get a feel for this new gym, but not about who I’ll be training with. Max wants Ty and I to roll tonight. Of course, we’re starting with his strength.
In preparation for this potentially awful experience, I spent the day rocking out to some good tunes while I unpacked my new apartment to put me in a good mood. Since I’m living alone, I was able to give it my all as I danced to Aqua while putting dishes in the cupboards. Not having roommates really has its perks.
Just as I start humming Barbie Girl, Ty walks in.
He silently walks over to his locker, giving a slight nod to everyone as they greet him.
I sit on the bench, kick my shoes off, and subtly observe him. Get to know thy enemy or something like that.
“Did you have a good first day at work, Ty?” Rosa asks from her seat beside me.
Ty glances at her, with an almost surprised expression, as his eyes quickly dart to me then back to her. “Yeah, it was good,” he mumbles as he turns back to his locker and opens it.
Rosa smiles. “Awesome.”
I furrow my brow at her. That was an acceptable answer?
I continue getting ready, watching as everyone greets Ty and he barely greets them back. He acts like such an ass, yet everyone seems to like him.I don’t get it.
