At the Stars(3)

She stares out the window with her body wrapped up tight in a ball. Knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around the tops of them to keep everything tucked in. I’ve blasted the heat, but she’s wet and shivering. “Hey. Here.” I reach behind the passenger seat for my jacket and hand it over. “Put this on. Should keep you warm.”

Her long stare burns into the side of my face before she finally slides the thing on. “Where did you say this place was again?”

I hit the gas and squeeze the steering wheel until my vision sharpens. There aren’t many lights on this stretch of road. “Literally two more minutes up ahead.” Nothing much in Evergreen Grove takes more than ten to get to by car. “I’m gonna drop you at the Grove Inn. The woman who runs the place is cool about special situations. There’s a B&B that’s nicer, but it’s on the edge of town, farther out, and more expensive. Mrs. Choi’ll probably give you a break on the room in case you’re stuck for a while.” I’d say something about her shoes on the upholstery, except she looks like she’s as shot through as I am.

Anyway, we’re both soaked. What’s a little dirt and gravel?

“You already think it’ll be a while?”

I clear my throat. I’m almost positive she’s going to need to replace her engine, but no way will I tell her that now. I figure it’s been a long enough night. “Listen, I work in a garage. I can get the car towed for you tomorrow and see what’s what. I don’t want to say anything for sure until I can get it on a lift and have a good look around.”

She nods slowly. “But you think it could... take a while?”

“I think...” I think she’s gonna need about six grand to fix her car, and I’m not in the mood to get yelled at on top of everything else tonight. “Mrs. Choi usually gives discounts by the week. If you don’t have anyone to come help you out, I’d take her up on the offer.”

She doesn’t answer. By the way she balls herself up even tighter, I’m putting good money down that she doesn’t have anyone to come for her.

I’ve got no reason to feel bad. No reason for that to bother me. No reason to think helping this girl can make up for the fact that I couldn’t help Davidson Banes.

I assure myself of all those things as we pull up to the Grove Inn. I keep on telling myself that while I help her bring the stuff she grabbed from her car inside.





2. NO QUICK FIX


Cassie

I tap my keys on the counter of RJ’s Auto Repair. “So how long do you think it’ll take?”

I don’t hate all mechanics. Some of them have been really cool to me. It’s just that I own a foreign car that’s older than I am, right? I’ve dealt with my share of jerks who see a young female and assume they can take me or my supposedly rich parents to the cleaners.

Well, even when I had a parent I handled this stuff on my own. I’m not super well-versed in all things car repair, but I’m not a moron. Don’t try to tell me that my car needs gold-plated brakes. Don’t talk to me like I’m twelve.

I cannot stand being treated like a child.

I’m at the place where my helper from last night told me to come in the morning, but I don’t see him around. The guy behind the counter—he has kinda this doughy face with a pug nose and fiery hair—I like him even less than Tall, Dark, and Shouty.

I can tell Red is about to pull out the voice he’d use on a twelve-year-old. “Look, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Ew. Yes, darlin’?

“You’re lucky you didn’t explode by the roadside with that thing. You’ve got a major repair on your hands, girl.”

Girl. “So can you give me an estimate yet?”

“Not till I’ve looked it over, but it appears to me like you’ve thrown a rod. That’s a brand new engine, right there. I’ll have to get it on the lift to be sure.”

“So if you get it on the lift and find out you were right, you’re going to try to charge me for a new engine plus the cost of diagnosing what you already knew was wrong?”

It’s hard to have a good bullshit radar when you basically don’t trust anyone. Still, I have the feeling this guy sees someone who’s screwed and wants to milk whatever he can out of the deal.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Does it really need a new engine?”

“’Scuse me? Are you the expert here, missy?”

“Well, I assume there are options. Maybe a refurbished one or something?”

God, he even laughs like a pig. “Refurbished. That’s cute.”

Now, here’s the part where I kind of have the urge to cry. But I don’t. Crying in front of others is a vulnerability I can’t afford. So I take a slow, measured breath, until the pressure behind my eyes recedes. As does the urge to stab Red with a pen. “It just seems like with a car that age there ought to be options other than putting in a brand-new engine. The whole rest of the car may only last a couple more years.”