Chapter 18 Claire
Claire
The short, stocky, guy that Jay’s been talking to, points in my direction.
When I pulled into the lot, parking off to the side so I had time to go unnoticed, I saw them already outside, both leaning against the wall.
The stance he was in brought me right back to first seeing him on Friday night — foot perched, cigarette in hand.
I almost left right then, but I thought him seeing me leave may somehow actually be worse than just showing up.
I realize that he could easily interpret me coming to his work not once, but twice, as completely psychotic, but I’m putting myself out there…
again. Leaving it all on the table so to speak.
So, after watching them talk for the last five minutes, while my brain thought of every possible outcome here, I decided there was no turning back.
I definitely had this whole stalking thing reversed.
Now I’m here, standing in front of Monroe’s, looking at the back of Jay’s beautiful head and suffocating a white, cardboard Whisk!
box with a firm grip and clammy hands. Romantic.
I can hear the music from the indoor speakers playing Tiny Dancer, and I smile thinking back to our conversation about our favorite singers.
When he said his were these incredible legends, I was almost self-conscious.
He’s such an old soul, and there I was, about to admit that mine is a rock-pop singer with a pink mohawk and an attitude problem.
My saving grace was that Elton John and Pink!
practically dress the same so, no argument there. Plus, that girl can sing.
Suddenly, Jay whips that gorgeous body of his around, and the fact that his face instantly relaxes when he sees me is all I need. He’s a man of few words, but the way his strong exterior seems to settle, tells me everything I want to know. Everything I was hoping for.
Knowing I should probably speak, I search my brain for something that says “It’s totally normal that I just showed up here!” Reasoning, an explanation, a made-up story for all I care, but I struggle to find the best way to explain that my brain wouldn’t turn off until I saw him again.
“Hi,” I say. Okay, so not exactly what I was thinking, but it’s a word so that’s a start. He walks a pace towards me and shoves both hands in his pockets, shaking his head as if to clear his mind.
“Hi!” I hear back, only it’s his friend who talks first, stepping forward and offering an energetic wave. “I’m Sean.” He extends his palm to mine. Releasing a hand from the blondies, I return the gesture. “And you are…”
“Claire,” Jay says quietly.
Still holding my hand he looks at Jay. “Claire?” After a brief pause his eyebrows shoot up, his eyes as wide as saucers. “Oh! Claireeeeeee.” He draws out my name. Turning back to me, hands still together, he adds, “You wouldn’t happen to, oh I don’t know, eat pizza?” He throws Jay a wink.
“And, that’s enough.” Jay grabs Sean by the shoulders and pulls our hands apart. He pushes him back towards the garage doors. “He was just leaving.”
“Bye, Claireeee.” Sean calls over his shoulder as he stumbles from the force of Jay’s push.
I can’t help but laugh, only stopping when suddenly Jay is back in front of me and his eyes are doing that piercing thing I’ve become so accustomed to in the last few days.
This visit was much easier when it was just a thought in my mind.
Seeing him here, with all of the tall, muscular, intimidating parts, is a completely different story.
“Hi,” I say again and his face softens, the look he gives me, so calm I could get lost in it. For someone who often looks conflicted, he wears peace well. Relishing in it, I wait to speak.
Finally, I hold the box up to him and smile cheerfully. “I brought blondies!”
He breaks his stare and chuckles, completely thrown off guard. “You brought blondies?”
“To say thanks for taking a look at the Maverick?” It wasn’t supposed to come out as a question.
He snickers again. “You brought dessert to a garage of red-blooded mechanics?”
Suddenly my cheeks flush with embarrassment. This was a terrible idea. Holding my breath I feel the creases under my arms become slick with humiliation.
He puts a hand on my shoulder, looking serious. “You may be the bravest woman I’ve ever met.” I exhale feeling my cheeks return to their normal color and then roll my eyes playfully.
“I’m serious!” He brings his palm to his chest earnestly. “I’m high class compared to these guys. Come on.” Placing his hand on my lower back he guides me inside. Thankfully my legs still work despite the sudden weakness in my knees.
Man, he wasn’t kidding. These guys are animals! They all but mauled me to get the blondies, leaving only crumbs behind.
When we first walked in, Jay yelled to the garage that there was food.
No literally, “FOOD!” was all he said and six guys, including Sean and Zeke who I already knew, came running in my direction like a herd of wild horses.
Every hand that reached into the box was covered with motor oil, yet no one seemed to care.
One guy even rolled out from beneath a car, had another mechanic put a blondie in his mouth, and then rolled back under.
It was fascinating. Like watching animals in the zoo at feeding time.
Jay just now gets a chance to introduce me. “This is Claire. Her dad owns the Maverick.”
Despite both of those things being facts, my ego is slightly bruised when he says that instead of “The devastatingly good kisser that he was falling head over heels for.” Either way, the guys are all polite, saying hello through mouthfuls of blondies or at least offering a nod in my direction.
One of the guys, who says his name is Rick, follows up by asking whether or not my dad has sold the car.
“Not yet,” I answer. “He has a couple of people interested, but so far, it’s still sitting in my parent’s garage.” Much to my mother’s dismay. I fold up the empty box still blown away by what just took place and toss it into a nearby trash can.
It’s funny, I assumed Dad would sell the Maverick to the first bidder just to get rid of the thing, but he’s been much pickier than I expected. “This one’s just a kid,” “That offer’s too low.” I’m starting to think getting rid of the last thing he has of Grandpa’s may be harder than he thought.
Sean smacks Jay’s sculpted arm with the back of his hand. “Still got a chance, man!” Jay rolls his eyes unamused.
I subtly turn to him, but he’s avoiding my gaze. Is Jay interested in the car?
We’re interrupted by Zeke before I have a chance to ask. “So Jay, you bringin’ Claire to Madison’s 21st?”
Jay shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. “Zeke man, I told you, nightclubs aren’t really my scene.”
Zeke scoffs. “Oh, and I’m a frequent flyer.” He makes a gesture down his heavy frame, finishing with two pats to his very impressive beer belly.
“I’m just saying, I appreciate the invite, but I think I’m going to pass on this one.”
Having known Maddie, through Zeke, since I learned to drive, I cut in. “Wait, Maddie’s turning twenty-one already?” I know I’m not old, but there’s something about someone whose sweet sixteen pictures you’ve seen, being able to drink legally, that’ll make you feel ancient.
“Don’t remind me.” Zeke blows through his lips.
“Goin' all out too. Private party at Neon Nights and everything. She invited the whole crew.” Scanning the lot of guys as he speaks, he lands on Jay and holds his stare.
“So damn any one of you if you let down my little girl.” Jay stares back very unintimidated.
Changing the mood, another voice chimes in. “She’s most excited to see me though right, boss?” This time it’s Sean who gestures down his thick frame.
“Nobody’s excited to see that, Sean,” Wheely-Guy shouts from under the car and everybody snickers.
“So help you God if you go anywhere near her.”
Sean laughs. “Good one, boss!” but Zeke’s face is stone-cold.
In an attempt to save Sean’s dignity, and life apparently, I cut in again. “Well, nightclubs aren’t really my thing either, but I’d love to celebrate with Maddie.” And have a chance to spend more time with Jay.
Jay snaps his head to me, his expression curious. Am I fooling anybody by pretending to be interested in Maddie’s birthday? “If that’s okay with you?” I add.
I feel my chest grow tight at the thought that he could completely humiliate me right here in front of everyone if he says no. Maybe you should have thought of that first, Claire. See, this is why it’s so important that I overthink before I speak.
He nods in response, creasing his brow, which tells me he’s feeling one of two things, either unexpectedly surprised or thoroughly creeped out.
My wheels begin turning as I start thinking maybe I’m doing too much.
I am never one to be this bold and here I am, showing up at his work and inviting myself to be his plus one all on the same day.
As if reading my mind, he adjusts his posture, his hand that was once by his side, casually grazing mine. “Sounds good to me.” A subtle, yet intentional brush of his pinky seals the deal. And I feel it head to toe.