Chapter 13 – Kira
KIRA
A fter Agnes and I stock up on the essentials - i.e., milk, eggs, bread, mint chocolate chip ice cream and Trulys, we’re making our way out of the supermarket when I stop in front of a bulletin board I hadn’t noticed when we first walked in.
“Hey are these new or old?” I ask her, tilting my chin up at the board cluttered with all sorts of neon colored paper in the form of post it notes and fliers.
The ones that have caught my eye say Help Wanted at the top.
The wardrobe overhaul didn’t cost much, but I’ll only be able to pay for my half of the junk food and booze for so long before money runs out.
Agnes lets out an exaggerated grunt beside me and makes a big show of putting down her share of the grocery bags we were schlepping. “How long are you going to stand there looking for a new career? I told you that you don’t need to be in a hurry to pay your way anyway.”
Yes, she has, multiple times. And even though it’s only been a week and a half, I love the old biddy to pieces for it - even if she won’t tell me what she gets up to on Friday and Saturday nights.
I just assume that she and Naked Ned are having some kind of geriatric naughty time and try not to think about it.
But anyway, she’s long owned her house and gets to live off her and her husband’s social security.
But still, that doesn’t mean I should be getting a free ride.
I actually want to embrace my independence and learn how to live in the real world.
“Just go get the car then, and leave the bags with me,” I huff at her.
“If you insist,” she perks up and sashays past me, giving my ass a swat on her way out. She calls them love taps.
I shift my shopping bags to one hand and reach up to grab at a couple of the phone numbers for the ads posted.
It seems super old school, but I’m not complaining.
Although I suppose I will check to see if the town as a Facebook page or something later, just to make sure these ads aren’t eleven years old or something.
Folding the fliers and stuffing them in my handbag, I scoop up the bags Agnes discarded, just in time to hear the clang of a trash can outside. I waddle out with the weight of the bags and heft them into the back seat before righting the can and climbing in the passenger seat.
As usual, we’re flying down the road before I even have my seatbelt secured, and we don’t get far before I hear a faint siren and look in the side view mirror to see a cop on our ass, complete with red and blue revolving lights.
“Shit,” Agnes mumbles as she pulls over, almost but not quite putting us in the ditch. Once we’ve stopped she leans over and with a conspiratorial whisper tells me, “Listen… you’re going to have to pull down the V of your t-shirt. My cleavage doesn’t do it anymore.”
“What?”
“To get out of the ticket!” She hisses. “My rack deflated long ago, and I’ve had to revert to the cliche old lady act. But yours are still firm and perky. Squish ‘em together!”
“No!” I lean back, as if she might try to sexually harass me.
“I am your superior!” She declares and I frown.
“I am not skeezing my way out of a ticket!” I protest just as a uniformed officer approaches the side of the car, and Agnes startles slightly.
“Okay! Be cool, be cool!” She clamps her hands back on the wheel and tilts her grasshopper shades in the direction of the cop. “How can I help you sonny-boy?”
Now, I’ve never been in a situation like this before, but I certainly don’t expect to see a heart-stoppingly handsome face when the cop ducks his head to regard Agnes. I’m talking dark hair, dark eyes, sharp dark eyebrows, and strong chiseled features. The gang’s all here.
But that doesn’t surprise me half as much as what comes out of his mouth when he narrows his eyes, scrutinizing my wacky companion. “Shouldn’t you be in the nursing home watching Wheel of Fortune instead of gunning down the road at warp speed?”
Agnes snaps his head in his direction. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere eating a donut instead of chasing after hot women three times your age?”
The officer flashes her a grin. “Agnes … I’ve let you off with too many warnings, you know that.”
“I sneezed and hit the accelerator.”
He shakes his head before looking up at me. “I’m Theo Mitchell,” he gives me a friendly, closed-mouth smile.
“Kira Lockwood,” I smile back behind my thrift store aviators.
“Make sure she slows down, huh? She’s a ticket away from getting her license revoked, and there’s an ongoing dispute at the station over who has to be the one to do it.”
I chuckle. Agnes has everyone in this town wrapped around her finger and give him a reassuring nod.
As he walks back to his cruiser, Agnes is staring intently at her side view mirror, no doubt checking out his ass, and I damn near shit myself when she lays on the horn out of nowhere.
“What the -?!” I hear officer Theo exclaim.
I turn to look at him through the back window.
“Just wanted to see you jump!” Agnes calls through her window before turning back to me and muttering. “If only he were wearing grey sweatpants, am I right?”
“Are all little country towns like this packed with hot guys?” I marvel, not only at Officer Hot Ass but at the way things go around here.
“Only the fictional ones, honey,” Agnes snorts as she puts the car in gear.
West
“Fuck this. I quit!” Ryan shouts through the shammy cloth that he’s vehemently rubbing over his face before tossing the filthy rag to the ground.
“Good luck with that,” Razor guffaws from his stool where he works on one of the Chaos’s members Harleys. “West and Hunt have already talked to all the business owners in town. No one’s touching your ass with a forty-foot pole until you take an attitude adjustment.”
“I’d say my attitude is pretty fucking in line with what you assholes are putting me through!
” Ryan bitches some more as he marches over to the utility sink.
He turns the water on full blast and dips his grease-smeared face under the faucet, while I chuckle from the computer.
“Isn’t this some kind of endangerment?” He sputters between dousings. “I got dangerous chemicals in my eyes!”
“First of all, flush your eyes out and you’ll be fine,” I chide, not taking my eyes off the screen where I’m itemizing Dr. Speedman’s service invoice. “Second of all, be thankful that was clean oil that leaked all over your face. Third,-”
“Third, this is fucking bullshit!” Ryan cuts me off, straightening up with a roar, droplets of water flying from his hair as he tosses it back. “You’re pulling this shit to just fucking torture me because you’re an asshole!”
“ Third ,” I resume my tirade while abruptly shoving the computer cart away and turning on him.
“You were properly trained to use protective eyewear, and to replace the fucking drain plug before the new oil is poured in!” I stalk over to him.
“You’re doing this shit to yourself, you fucking moron! ” I shout back.
Before my temper at his infantile shit can turn into my own immature tantrum, I turn away from his stunned face and draw in a long breath.
I let it out before placing my hands on my hips and turning back to him.
“You don’t like it, go scrub the toilets at Donna’s because that’s the only place that’s going to have you.
You’ve managed to alienate everyone in this town. ”
Ryan continues to stand there, his breath still heaving with effort, while water and oil drizzle trails down his face.
“Clean up and try again,” I order calmly as I walk by him in the direction of my office.
“Damn boss.” Razor lets out a sigh of amusement as he turns slowly on his stool, tracking my journey to the office. “Yeah, why don’t you go have a Snickers and change your maxi pad?”
I flip him off without a look.
I let out a breath as I slump down in my chair and throw my heavy boots up on my desk crossing one ankle over the other. Grabbing a toothpick out of the small cup on my desk I place it in the corner of my mouth and rest my head back; talking myself down.
Ryan Collins is the unfortunate spawn of Hunt’s dad having an affair but he slapped the proverbial badge of shame on himself.
He acts like an ass because he thinks that’s what people expect of him but has never stopped to consider that no one put him in that pigeonhole but himself.
But I’ll be damned if he thinks he can treat women the way he treated Kira that night, and be as rude as he is to anyone for that matter.
I have dinner with Kaleb Shane and his wife on occasion and they’ve had a story or two of Ryan stirring shit up and getting his rocks off to it.
My fired up state of mind has me craving a new remedy all of a sudden. I seriously wouldn’t mind hanging with Kira right now. Not even to have sex, though I’d never turn that down. The idea of getting to know her more and see how she’s getting on makes a pleasant calm settle over me.
I’m just thinking of calling her to see how her day is going when I get a visitor.
“Fuckin slacker,” I hear a gravelly timbre snap me out of my mental repose, and speak of the fucking devil, I see Kaleb himself standing on the other side of my desk.
I chuckle warmly at his greeting. “Hey, what’s happening?”
“You tell me,” he smirks and gestures out towards the bays. “You hired Ryan Collins? I believe that goes against our agreement that you’d run this shop with the respect it deserves.”
“Call it an intervention for the town asshole,” I return, giving the toothpick in my mouth a flick, discarding it in the wastecan below my desk. “He’s heavily supervised, I assure you.”
“He barely graduated by the skin of his teeth, and now he’s going to run himself out of town,” he laments.
“So what are you doing here?” I ask, dropping my feet back down and sitting forward, ready to accommodate.
“Nothing, just making an appointment with Razor to get the clutch on my bike replaced,” he fills me in as he takes a seat across from me.
“I can help you with that,” I lean forward and wake up my computer to bring up the schedule. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get the previous owner’s discount,” I toss at him.
“Oh thanks,” his green eyes light up with sarcasm. “But what am I supposed to do with that extra four dollars?” He jokes, ducking the paperclip I throw at him .
“What happened to no one works on your bike but you?” I counter, referring to the fact that he salvaged and restored that Harley all on his own.
He shakes his head, as in disbelief. “The parlor has really picked up speed.” The art gallery he runs with Luna, his wife in the city. It’s been doing well, and they’ve managed a schedule that doesn’t have them going back and forth too much.“ Hasn’t left me much time.”
“That’s great news,” I congratulate him as I tap away on the keyboard. It’s hard to believe he’s married and runs a business at his age. Granted, I’m only six or so years older than he is and I’ve owned the shop only a hair longer than he’s had his gallery.
“It’s called a dipstick, Dipshit!” Jackson bellows .
Kaleb and I collapse into laughter.
“That’s uh…” he speaks between laughs. “One hell of a character-building program you’ve got going on in there!”
I get him set up with an appointment for Razor to work on his bike the following week and tell him to buy his pretty wife a latte on the way home.
I’m just about to head back into the garage to rescue Jackson when the phone on the desk rings, buying me another couple minutes to sit back in my chair.
“Shane Auto,” I answer when I pick up.”
“Hi there,” the older man’s voice sounds perfectly polite and distinguished. “This is Theodore Wellington. I believe you have my Rolls Royce?”