8. #2
“She’s right,” Lana agreed. “Mark doesn’t really like anybody outside of our family.”
“He likes . . . um . . .” Lake’s voice trailed off, her brow furrowing in concentration.
“What a list,” Lana teased. “Your social calendar must be packed!”
I let the two of them continue ribbing each other while I turned back to my work, letting my mind roam over the possibilities of why Jeremy was behaving like this.
The man didn’t pursue me this intently when we first met and started dating, so why the change now that we’d broken up?
I just didn’t get it and probably never would.
◆◆◆
There was a loud thump, and then I heard Shiloh talking to himself.
“Piece of shit! I should set it on fire and blame Mother Nature. This piece of shit, no-sound-having, not-a-fucking-thing-wrong-with-it pain in my ass!”
I glanced at Dante’s brother, Ricky, and asked, “Is he still working on the car with the mystery sound?”
“Yeah. That’s the one. Apparently, it’s not an issue as long as the stereo is turned up.”
“She said that?” I asked incredulously. When he nodded, I asked, “Did she come in alone?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because she clearly needs a keeper.”
Ricky sputtered with laughter, slapping me on the shoulder. “You were always my favorite, La.”
I didn’t point out that if I was really his favorite triplet, he’d know which one I was. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and sighed. “Are you leaving?”
“Yep. Shiloh is the last one here, and he swears he’s not gonna quit until he finds the source of this mysterious problem.”
“I’ll see if I can talk him off the ledge.”
“Good luck.”
“Well, there are four teenage girls in his house right now. Even if I talk him down from this meltdown, he’s probably gonna have to deal with a few more before they go home tomorrow.”
“Poor guy. I don’t know Colbie and Quinlee very well, but Nica can be a terror. That girl is a carbon copy of Dante and just scary smart.”
I smiled. “Donno is gonna be just like them.”
“Resa’s gonna end up in politics or car sales. I’m not sure which yet.”
“She does love money.”
“I’m outta here, La. Have fun taming the angry beast.”
Ricky left out of the front door, and I heard him lock it from outside before I walked back to the garage to announce myself to Shiloh.
“I could burn it. I could drive it off a cliff and say someone stole it. I could . . .”
“Pookie Doodle, are you having a rough day?” I asked as I got closer.
When Shiloh turned toward me, his frown transformed into a bright smile, which was in direct contrast to the gruffness of his voice when he said, “This piece of shit isn’t making any noises it’s not supposed to, but she picked it up after lunch, drove it around the block, and came back insisting the noise was still there. ”
“Did you ride with her?”
“Absolutely not. Biscuit has been practicing her driving, and I can’t take much more stress in my life.”
“The girls are having a spa night at your house,” I informed him. “They fully expect you to participate after Raylee informed them that your hair is like that because you shower with dish soap.”
“I work in a garage and get up covered in grease every day!” I grimaced, and he narrowed his eyes. “Wait. What’s wrong with my hair?”
I tucked a stray curl behind his ear. “Nothing. A person’s hair is always unruly during a transitional period.”
“Transition to what?”
I blurted out, “Hopefully a haircut.” I realized I might have hurt his feelings, so I rested my hand on his chest and ordered, “Kiss me, Boopsie Dumplin’.”
“As long as you never use that name again,” Shiloh agreed before his lips touched mine.
Our kiss was just heating up when the phone on the tool bench a few feet away rang and made me jump.
I thought for sure he was going to let it go to the answering service, but he pulled away and reached for it. He groaned and said, “It’s her.”
“Her?”
He motioned toward the car and sighed deeply. “The car owner.”
“Have you asked her about the noise again?”
“No. Why?”
“Let me talk to her,” I suggested.
“You’re not a mechanic.”
“No, but I’m a female,” I said as I took the phone out of his hand. “Pardo Automotive, how can I help you?” I listened to the woman introduce herself and pretended I didn’t know how frustrating her car had been for Shiloh. “You’re the one with the mystery noise!”
I hit the button to put the phone on speaker just as she said, “I don’t think your mechanic believes me.”
“Well, I believe you’re hearing something,” I said, not quite lying, but not exactly being truthful either. “Tell me about the sound. When does it happen? What does it sound like?”
“It’s not like a bell, but it’s definitely metal, and it doesn’t happen all the time, just when I turn. If I change lanes abruptly, it happens then and makes a tink-tink-tink sound until I straighten the wheel again.”
“And when you turn a corner?”
“It happens then too!”
“What about a curve? Do you hear it then?”
She seemed to think about it for a second and then answered, “No. I don’t.”
I walked over to the car and looked inside, not surprised to see that there was a lot of stuff scattered around the back seat.
I opened the rear driver's-side door and leaned in, half-listening to the customer ramble about when the noise started, and nearly whooped when I pulled a metal tumbler from the floorboard beneath her seat.
When I stood up, the customer was still talking, now trying to replicate the sound, but I didn’t need her to.
I tilted the tumbler one way and then another, listening to the clink-clink sound of the metal straw against the inside of the metal container, and watched Shiloh’s face go from shocked disbelief to outright anger.
It didn’t get any better when I started laughing.
“That’s the noise! He found it!”
“He sure did!” I assured her, suddenly feeling like a conquering hero, while this woman was a minion who had to be reminded to take a deep breath every minute or two. “We’ll see you tomorrow around lunchtime.”
The customer hung up, and I shook the tumbler again before I grinned at Shiloh and boasted, “The professional took care of it.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
He didn’t look angry, so I told him something our father had said again and again when he thought me or one of my siblings was making something that should be a simple task more difficult than it needed to be. “KISS.”
“Come here, and I’ll take care of that for you,” Shiloh said as he reached for me.
I laughed as I stepped into his arms and smiled up at him. “I wasn’t asking for a kiss. I was saying KISS. It’s an acronym.”
“Well, now that’s two things you can explain to me.”
I giggled before I said, “An acronym is when an abbreviation spells a word. Like KISS. That’s an acronym for ‘Keep It Simple, Stupid.’”
“Thank you. Now I’m smarter. Does that mean I can get a kiss?”
“You forgot to thank me for fixing the car issue you’ve been fighting all week.”
“I plan on doing that when we can do more than kiss.”
“Well, for now, that’s all you’re gonna get, Schmoopster. There are teenage girls alone in your house waiting to give you a spa makeover.”
Shiloh sighed before he rested his forehead on mine. Finally, he said, “Telling myself that looking like an idiot will make Raylee happy should be enough, right?” When I nodded, he asked, “Then why do I want to hide in here until they go to sleep?”
“Raylee’s happiness is the best part, but I’ve got something that I think will make you happy.”
“It’s gonna have to be good.”
“I’ve got an overnight bag in my car.”
“That’s better than good, Cupcake. That’s fucking excellent.”
◆◆◆
“This is not an actual song,” my niece Colbie argued, as she stared at the speaker as if it were going to argue with her. “There is no way.”
“Denis Leary is a genius who made an anthem for my people,” Shiloh informed her. “My guess is that your dad and your uncles have heard this, maybe even your grandfather.”
“Dad can sing the ’Asshole’ song word for word,” I told him. Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to be talking, because Nica used the tip of her finger on my chin to push my mouth closed and hold it shut. Doing my best not to move my jaw, I said, “It’s a classic.”
“If you don’t stop talking, you’re gonna mess the mask up,” Nica warned.
I really wanted to see what they were doing to Shiloh, but Nica was standing between us. The girls had set up a sort of salon at the kitchen table and had Shiloh and I take chairs beside each other so they could work on our faces and hands at the same time.
“What are you doing to her face?” Shiloh asked. “Ow! What was that for?”
When I tried to turn my head to look at him, Nica growled at me.
Since I valued my life, and knew my sister Jolie had been quite an influence on her for the last few years, I heeded Nica’s warning.
The last thing I needed was for Nica to channel my big sister and do something like she’d done over the years.
I was so paranoid that might be the case that I reached up and touched my hair to make sure I didn’t suddenly have bangs.
That had happened before, and it took months for them to grow out.
I was relieved to find my hair still pulled back in a ponytail with a braided terrycloth hairband keeping the flyaways out of the goop Nica had put on my face.
“Your pores are huge! Ew. Ladies, we’re going to have to get serious about his makeover,” Raylee announced. “We can’t have him looking like the Swamp Thing when he’s next to Lara’s beauty.”
“Thank you!” I said cheerfully, happy to accept her compliment.
At the same time, Shiloh said, “That was rude!”
“Sometimes honesty seems like rudeness, but it’s beneficial in most situations,” Colbie told Shiloh earnestly.
Quinlee giggled before she said, “Mom says that Colbie doesn’t have to tell people the truth because her face does it for her.”