Epilogue Zooming Ahead
Despite everything working out with Sal, my disaster-by-proximity curse wasn’t fully broken. A few weeks later, the neighbor kid crashed their mini car into a tree on my property and bawled while delivering a crayon-written apology to my doorstep.
“They skidded out. It’s all the slush out here, lately,” the mom said, holding the kid’s hand. “If only we had some kind of indoor park to drive it. The house is too dangerous.”
“Neighbor’s driveways aren’t exactly a safe alternative,” I said.
The mom slumped. “No, I know. I’m sorry. I can pay for the tree. I know this is a lot to ask, but don’t you fix things?”
I frowned. I fixed computers. Drum kits. My worldview, to some extent. “Not cars,” I said.
“Really? Oh, I was hoping you could fix the wiring. It’s totaled, right now. I’d pay you of course, with the extra for the tree.”
She offered me a staggering amount, probably out of guilt.
“But…you shouldn’t…” I huffed. It was stupid not to take the commission. “I can’t guarantee anything. So no, I can’t fix that particular unit.”
“No, of course not.” She flashed me a weary smile. “Sorry, again.”
“Sorry,” her kid sniffled, staggering off with their mom .
My heart twisted. Poor thing. Even if it was a stupid, dangerous toy, it’d been exciting.
Sal knew how to make kids happy. Well, he could probably make anyone happy, at least for a while. All I knew how to do was build stuff.
My gears turned endlessly, and I ended up brainstorming with my boyfriend that night. I drafted a safe version of a people-mover. He suggested covering the units in cute and badass animals. Batteries could last as long as a carousel ride, maybe a bit beyond. It'd be a decent rental service.
“But where would the indoor track be, an abandoned roller rink?” I sighed. Originally, I’d planned for The Widow animatronic to be picked up by the studio or rented by haunted houses. Maybe it would be, one day. For now, Kat was trying to work out if we could safely mount it to the ceiling of Hot Contra without blocking any sprinklers and smoke detectors.
“What if…we rented the space next to the Workshop?” He squeezed my shoulder and pulled up the mall map on his phone. “We could make a practice track there, an 'obstacle course' with bumpers, and if an adult's driving, they could go into the wider parts of the mall itself in front of our store."
“Wait, ‘we’ could make this? 'Our' store?” I sat up and smiled, my heart whirring almost as much as my brain. Were we about to become business partners?
“Yeah.” He tilted his head, his dimples deepening with a grin. “I know you don’t want to run this business yourself. You could always hire someone else. But I’ve been thinking about expansion. I could rent from you, hire you or something. I’m sure Ash would give a glowing recommendation.” He wagged his brows.
I narrowed my eyes and adjusted my glasses. “Are you serious about this? It would be a huge deviation from your main source of income, your whole business model. I’m a high risk.”
“You’re my brilliant girlfriend. I trust you’ll do everything you need to make this safe,” he said.
My chest tightened, though my heart fluttered. Maybe he was too optimistic. I hugged the plans to my chest. “I’m not sure I can do that. It’s your grandfather’s business.”
He sighed. “It’s fair to be nervous. As much as I love my grandfather and his legacy, it’s time to build my own thing. Make this place a destination again. I might not be able to build stuff like either of you can, but I can make a memorable experience.”
“You can.” I eyed him and smirked. “Of course, I can make an impression too. Hopefully, this time, without any explosions.”
He laughed. “Where would the fun be in that?”
I kissed him, then opened a bunch of tabs on my laptop. “Okay, I’ll draw up the contracts. We’d need to check on so many patents. Doesn’t your Uncle Paulie know everybody?” I asked.
“Yeah, what do you need?”
“A mechanic. A business lawyer. Someone good at sewing. And, um, you, obviously.”
He laughed. “You’ve got me.”
Unsurprisingly, his friends and family came through.
It took months of prototyping, but finally, I had a rentable stuffed animal mech ready. And we had a meeting.
I drove my turkey car down the mall walkway toward the Workshop at the singularly slow speed. I beeped twice, a garbled “gobble gobble” coming from the mouthpiece.
“What the hell is that?” Ash asked, peering outside True Tech .
“My new business. Ours,” I corrected as Sal sauntered out from Geppetto’s Workshop.
He tipped a cowboy hat with a bandana emblazoned with ‘Zero’s Zoomers’ tied above the brim. “Howdy, partner,” he said.
“Did you make that?” I grinned, trying to fight the memory of his mimed attempt to lasso Satan for a video game.
“Thought you might feel better about our meeting if you had a new hat.” He twisted it around and perched it atop my current baseball cap. “Stylish. Badass.”
“Thanks.” This style did imply I was an animal wrangler of sorts. Someone who could conquer unknown frontiers. I kissed him and scooted up so he could fit in behind me on the mech.
He wrapped his arms around me. “Are you sure it’ll hold both of us?”
“Pretty sure. Only one way to find out,” I teased, twisting the handle for us to move forward. The turkey hummed and glided forward like we were part of some glorious float in a parade.
Sal pageant-waved to Ash, and the turkey’s right tailfeather blinked with the repurposed drum kit lights as a makeshift turn signal.
“You two are ridiculous.” She grinned.
“Remember, we’re your favorite neighbors and friends,” he called, then fit his arms more snugly around me, his warmth powering my determination. “What do you say we celebrate after this mall meeting?” he asked
If the contracts were signed, absolutely. “I think I know the perfect place,” I said, leaning comfortably against his chest.
Cake Warehouse. He deserved a new good memory there, and we both could use a treat. The motor hummed between our legs. We built something that could last. I intended to keep working on it with him forever. After all, we could work hard and play hard: all it took was a few modifications.