Chapter 33
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
REBEL
I adjust the collar of my pink button down shirt and look myself over in the mirror. I went with business casual for my nine a.m. meeting with Rodney Howard, so I’m pairing the pink shirt with a smart black pencil skirt and pink kitty pumps.
Is it too much? Not enough?
I reach for the blazer again. Holding up the jacket to my face, I debate it and then return to my original decision.
No blazer it is.
I send the jacket flying across the room and it lands on one of the many clothing heaps on the ground.
All that’s left is makeup.
Nerves make my fingers shake as I apply my mascara.
“Come on. Come on,” I mutter, wiggling my arm out and leaning toward the mirror to try again.
My hands still shake.
I give up on the mascara and simply coat my lips in a strawberry-scented lipgloss. It’s no big loss. When it comes to business meetings, less is more anyway.
Mom shows up when I’m leaving my apartment. “Hi, honey. I brought you breakfast. I figured you’d be too busy to eat.”
“Thanks, mom.” I accept the plastic bag from her without looking inside. Hustling toward my car, I moan, “I’m late.”
“You’re early.”
“Not if there’s traffic.”
“You’ll be fine.”
I freeze and jog back to the stairway. “I forgot my folder.”
“You mean, that folder?” Mom points.
I look down and see the folder in my grip.
“I’m losing it.”
“You’re spiraling. Just slow down for a second.”
I check my watch. “I don’t have time.”
“You have time, Rebel.”
“What if I choke? I’m a mechanic, not a motivational speaker.”
“Just breathe through it. Do exactly what you practiced with me and you’ll have them opening their wallets faster than a tornado snatching a roof.”
“Thanks, mom.” I shuffle past her to my car. “And how do you know what I practiced last night? You slept through most of it.”
Mom smiles guiltily. “In my defense, you practiced the same speech for two hours.”
She has a point.
“But,” mom adds, “if I had millions in my bank account, I would have been riveted by every word . ”
I laugh out loud.
“Remember,” she smoothes down my collar with a veiny hand, “you’re one of the Ladies now. That means you’re a respected member of Lucky Falls. Don’t let those city slickers intimidate you.”
I open the door of my truck and it creaks loudly. “I’ll call you when the meeting’s over.”
Mom makes a ‘go on’ gesture.
As I drive, I mentally run over my speech. This is my first official meeting on behalf of the Ladies. Though my position in the Society is still shaky, it doesn’t change how important today is. I have to ace this.
April calls a few minutes later.
“Have you left yet?”
“I’m already on the freeway,” I inform her, reaching across the seat to munch on mom’s breakfast.
“You’re early.”
“There’s traffic.”
“You’re nervous,” she says with a laugh. “Breathe.”
“That’s an involuntary action. Give me something I can really do.”
“Wait a second, let me think about it,” April murmurs. “How about… breathe slowly .”
I chuckle. “Thanks for allowing me another day off.” Sheepishly, I admit, “I feel like I’m always working on cars after hours to make up for all these other projects.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“I should be doing more to help run the shop.”
“Hey, you still get the job done—even if it’s a little later at night. And besides, you’re not just a mechanic. You’re, like, Joan of Arc if she wore pink jumpsuits and had blonde hair.”
I bark out a laugh. “Thanks… I guess? I’m just glad we have Cordelia to fill in when I’m not there.”
“Yeah, she doesn’t have much experience working in a garage, but she’s got lots of promise.”
That’s true.
Cordelia Davis came to Lucky Falls with something to prove. Every day ,she arrives early to the garage and leaves very, very late at night. And I know, because I’m right there catching up with work late at night too.
Her approach to diagnosis is totally different than mine or April’s. While April uses scanners and shop manuals with intricate wiring diagrams and I use intuition and eyeballing, Cordelia is the type who systematically fixes one area of the car, takes notes, and then fixes another area until she hits the right path.
It’s a much longer route and less effective too. But April plans to teach her a better method for diagnosis. With Cordelia’s dogged determination, she’ll outpace both April and I in no time.
“I really want to do this right.” I adjust my fingers on the steering wheel.
“You will. You’ve been working so hard on this presentation. They’ll be blown away by your brilliance.”
By the time I pull my car into the basement parking lot and take the elevator up to Rodney Howard’s firm, I’m a lot more confident.
A receptionist greets me when I step into the lobby. She dips her chin and gestures for me to follow her down a hallway. I’m impressed that she knows who I am since I didn’t give her my name and I obediently trail her through the corridor.
On the way, I mumble my speech under my breath. “ Since the drought last summer, Lucky Falls farmers have been hit the hardest… ”
“In here,” the receptionist says.
I nod and push the door open.
“There she is!” Rodney Howard is seated at the head of a long, mahogany table. He pushes to his feet and rounds the desk to approach me, a warm smile on his lips.
“Mr. Rodney.”
He reaches for my hand and I expect to give him a firm handshake. Instead, he claps my fingers and gives me a fatherly squeeze.
My eyes dart to his in surprise.
“Gentlemen,” Rodney waves to the five older men sitting around the table in suits, “this is Rebel Hart, a female mechanic based in Lucky Falls and the woman who orchestrated one of the best days of my life—the day I got my son back.”
“Oh, it’s nothing so dramatic,” I say nervously, glancing around. I don’t see any projectors in the room. Leaning toward Mr. Rodney, I whisper, “Do you have a projector? If not, it’s okay, but I was hoping to share some pictures of the farms and communities in need.”
Mr. Rodney shakes his head subtly and grins, leading me to the table of businessmen.
I find his reaction strange but, until I have a clearer picture of what’s going on, I have no choice but to stumble along.
“Rebel, this is Vivesh Nandwani. He’s my business partner and the man who invested in me when no one else would.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hart. I’ve never met a female mechanic before.” He bobs his head, staring at me like I’m half fish, half woman.
“Nice to meet you.”
The next man who’s introduced is so big, his shirt button is holding on for dear life. At any second, that poor button will burst and smack me in the middle of my forehead.
“This is Henry Griffith,” Mr. Rodney says.
“No wonder your son fell head over heels, Rod. She’s a beaut!” Mr. Griffith takes my hand in his sweaty palm.
I smile in discomfort and pull my hand back.
Mr. Rodney introduces me to everyone in the room. They all grin, crack jokes or compliment my appearance.
While their overt friendliness should have set me at ease, it only confuses me. This feels more like I’m being paraded around at a family function, not a business meeting.
Did I misunderstand the assignment?
Realizing that I’ll need to take control of the meeting and get us back on track, I walk to the head of the table.
“Ehem.”
The men stop and stare at me.
“Your time is precious gentlemen, so I’d like to get started. I’m here on behalf of the Lady Luck Society?—”
Mr. Rodney hurries around the table. “Rebel, Rebel.”
I stop.
“There’s no need for that. Today’s meeting is simply a formality.”
I blink slowly. “I don’t understand.”
“Rodney, I think your daughter-in-law should move here and take over the company’s NGO division,” Vivesh Nandwani says. “With her face, she won’t even have to say a word. People will instantly throw cash at the charity.”
I gawk. “I’m sorry. Did you say ‘daughter-in-law’?”
“Gentlemen.” Mr. Rodney flashes the room a sheepish look.
Henry Griffith guffaws. “Rod, were you boasting about it to everyone but her?”
My heart lurches in my chest and I feel like I’m about to throw up. “W-what do you mean?” I turn to Mr. Rodney. “What are they talking about?”
“That’s enough.” Mr. Rodney nods at Henry Griffith. “This is why you’re on your third marriage.”
Henry Griffith throws his hands up.
Mr. Rodney gestures for me to follow him outside.
My chest swells and contracts as the truth sets in.
No one wants to hear what I have to say. All the nights I stayed up working on my speech, interviewing the community, perfecting my presentation—it was all for nothing.
I stop in the middle of the hallway.
Mr. Rodney notices and turns to face me.
I inhale shakily, feeling my throat tighten with unshed tears. “Mr. Rodney, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“Rebel, please don’t let what my friends said rattle you. I admit, I went ahead of myself and shared my wishful thinking about you and Benji, but it was nothing more than the musings of an old man. We are one hundred percent making that donation to the town. It has nothing to do with… other things.”
“What other things?” I demand.
“Can we talk in my office?”
“No.” I stand firm. “We’ll talk right here.”
He sighs and gives in. “I wasn’t there for my son for years. The day I repaired things with Benji, I made a vow that I would give my son whatever he desired. That’s the only way I can repay him.”
“And what exactly does Benji want?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
Mr. Rodney slips a hand into his pocket and looks down at his shoes.
My heart stammers in my chest because I already know the answer. Today’s meeting was never about helping Lucky Falls. All that matters to Mr. Rodney is that his son thinks I’m pretty.
Once again, that’s all I amount to. It’s all I’m good for.
“So you thought,” my voice turns scratchy, “that you could buy a relationship for your son?”
“I admit, that does sound rather vulgar, but I truly don’t mean any offense. I admire you greatly, Rebel. You’re smart, ambitious and gifted at repairing cars. The fact that Benji cares for you is no surprise to me. I simply wanted to help you two along by showing you how… advantageous our family could be to you.”
I back away from him, sick to my stomach. “I apologize for wasting your time, Mr. Rodney, but I don’t date people for their money and I certainly can’t be bought.”
“Rebel, Rebel, please. I truly didn’t mean it in that way.” Mr. Rodney scrambles to keep up with me, his eyes panicked. And I know, even in this moment, he’s not worried about hurting my feelings, but about how my negative reaction to this will affect Benji. “I apologize. I won’t bring this up ever again.”
I keep going.
He jumps in front of me, pleading. “Can you please not tell Benji about this? He would be very upset if he knew.”
I fight back tears of hurt.
“Please, Rebel,” Rodney Howard says.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I won’t tell him.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Rodney sags with relief. “I hope you won’t hold today against me or Benji. Perhaps, as you two get to know each other naturally, you can draw closer and?—”
“That isn’t going to happen,” I say firmly.
Rodney Howard’s eyebrows shoot up. “Why not? Is there something about Benji you don’t like? You can tell him and?—”
“I have a boyfriend,” I snap. “Let me know if that affects your donation. I’ll inform the Ladies when I get back to town.”