Chapter 15 Oil and Water
Oil and Water
I grunt, trying harder to get the wrench to move. With a sigh, I let go staring at the chopper I’ve been helping dismantle. Three more were brought down for parts. I wipe my hands over my jeans, and then try to get the nut to move once more.
For the last three nights this is what I did.
I could barely stand being in the apartment.
The walls felt caved in. A crawling sensation would follow like a shadow.
I wanted to go back to the penthouse, but Leo and the Crew wanted me to stay at the hotel.
The ping-pong feeling is beginning to feel tiring.
Even some evenings with Mikey and Logan didn’t stop the constant anxiety.
I decided on the garage, helping the bikers was the better distraction.
Seeing Nan the other day, and then Trix, both of whom I had to lie to, just heightened my anxiety.
It helped seeing Leanne earlier before she was picked up for her date with Isaac.
I’m glad they’ll get some time together.
But tonight, I’m alone debating sleeping in the garage with the bikes like a good little mechanic protégé.
Okay, not fully alone.
I peek over the disheveled mess to where Michael and another mobster stand. The other guy, Igor, is shorter than Michael with more bulk. He also has short cropped blonde hair. Have I been reminded of Rocky IV multiple times, thinking of Dolph? Yes. Name didn’t help.
The Crew are busy cause of a big meeting with the crime bosses. And I wasn’t disrupting Isaac and Leanne’s first real date night. Long as I stayed in the hotel where cameras were on me and Mikey and Logan watching, I was good. But alas, still need bodyguards.
Both men remain brooding as I go back to attempt in yanking off these damn nuts.
It takes a few more tries, but I finally do.
I go into a rhythm organizing pieces and cleaning parts.
Unsure what time it is, I practically toss a dented rim aside and sit on the cold concrete.
My wrench clangs to the ground as I huff, rubbing my face and remember the amount of oil and grease on them. I stop, dropping my hands. Whelp.
Footsteps sound and I look up as Michael comes over, stopping a few feet from me.
“Are you alright, ma’am?”
“Afraid if I get hurt then one of the Crew or my husband will gut you?” I try to sound light-hearted, but the slight fear on his face says otherwise. “Kidding, Michael. I’m fine.”
Brown eyes flick over me nervously. He begins to turn away, but stops and comes closer. The mobster reaches into his brown leather jacket, holding out a handkerchief. It’s dark blue with white stitching.
“You have…uh, grease…on your face.”
I stare at the piece of cloth.
Thoughts churn inside me over such a simple gesture of comfort.
Kindness that I would’ve taken easily before, I now wonder if it’s a ploy.
A game. Emotions I hadn’t felt since undercover keep me from grabbing the cloth.
Never did I think I’d come back to this spot again, wondering what was real or not.
Faces flash. Roger. Dr. Wilson. Carl. Charlotte.
Self-hate rises as I ask quietly, “Are you going to betray me next?”
He goes deadly still. My eyes meet his.
“No, ma’am,” he answers. “You do scare me, but no.”
“I scare you?” My brows lift.
“Sometimes.” The hand with the handkerchief drops to his side. “Not enough to…backstab you or say I will.”
I snort. Yeah, guess he wouldn’t tell me.
“Even after what I did in that meeting?” I mutter, looking over at the chopper.
“Rossi was a disgusting pedophile.” His words have me look back at him again. A flash of alarm comes across his face. “You were right to shoot him.”
“And Curione?”
His jaw tenses a moment. “It’s a kill or be killed world, ma’am. And you’re a pretty good shot.”
I tilt my head. “The day I met you…” I start off, clearing my throat, “…when you commented on how I took care of that guy, you were serious weren’t you? It was a compliment.”
His gaze flashes towards Igor, who watches us with narrowed eyes and a frown.
“It was, ma’am,” Michael answers. “You, uh…fucked him up good.”
I laugh under my breath. That night feels forever ago, a lifetime almost. Beginning to rub my head, I stop realizing I’ve made more of a mess. I stare at the gunk on my hands, and in my periphery watch as Michael holds out the handkerchief again.
Different faces flash. Cheryl. Rob. Dr. Maxwell. Alba. George.
Some strangers, some not. Where would I be if I’d ignored their kindness? If I hadn’t taken that chance. I think I’d be in New Jersey…dead on Roger’s floor. Well, that’s a sobering thought.
Finally, I take the cloth from him, wiping my face. I rub where I’ve touched my skin, attempting to clean my face. Michael remains quiet as I wipe off the grease, holding it back out for him to take. He does.
“Thank you…Michael.”
He nods, then folds it up carefully before walking away to join Igor.
I glance over the pieces of metal and rubber, what all could be junk.
A mess of what’s left behind from someone’s cruelty, but not all lost. Pieces still work.
Not entirely new, but could be used to build again.
A small laugh leaves me, thinking of those first sessions with Dr. Maxwell. Right…vulnerability.
I stand up, brushing myself off and look over the Pink Floyd shirt I’m wearing.
I step away from the chopper, moving over to Leo’s once beloved soft tail.
Gathering some tools, I start to investigate the wiring harness of the bike.
Most of it needs replaced, and I start working on certain sections.
I fall into a rhythm, perhaps a long while until footsteps sound behind me again.
“Want to see something cool?” I ask, knowing it’s Michael.
“Of course, ma’am, but you did inform me to tell you when midnight came.”
“Sorry, used to long nights…likely not going back up anytime soon.” I look up from where I crouch, hands all up in the bike. He stands straight, flicking his gaze to the motorcycle I work on. “Alright staying up late?”
“However long you need, ma’am.”
“Not a real answer.” I’m almost surprised he about got me to laugh.
He’s quiet as I double-check some wiring to ensure it’s good.
“I’d like to see something cool, ma’am.”
I glance over my shoulder, smirking at Igor. “What about your quiet counterpart?”
“He’s a stickler for rules.”
“Oh, he is gonna hate me,” I mutter. Michael snorts some laughter, and I look up to see him partially smile. My own forms. A sense of relief following.
Happiness in the oddest of places. Even with a mobster. Well…I guess I am now, too.
“Step back,” I tell him, and he does as I stand over the bike. I lean over, tugging some wires up and check connectors before I hot wire the engine hoping it’ll turn on. The engine struggles a second before it rumbles alive. I stare down at the bike, smiling broadly.
It turned on. The bike can still run. It sounds like shit and probably won’t make it twenty feet, but it runs. Hope flickers inside my chest.
“Didn’t know you could hot wire, ma’am,” Michael says over the loud engine.
I smile at him, then shrug.
His smirk turns into a grin. I turn the engine off, wiping my hands over my jeans as I glance at Igor. He hasn’t moved, standing there with a scowl as he watches. I shake my head, sitting back on the ground to go back to work.
Michael starts to walk away, until I say, “You can stay…if you want.”
I keep my gaze on the motorcycle, trying to ignore the rise of worry in my chest.
“Not a mechanic, ma’am. I don’t even know how to drive.”
“Me neither, apart from riding.”
“Common for New Yorkers, I guess.”
“Not originally a New Yorker,” I state, glancing up before I grab a rag to wipe my hands. “From the Midwest. Small town.”
It’s quiet, apart from the noise of me working. Michael steps back to his position next to the bike. His hands go into his pockets, and then he asks, “What are you doing?”
I smile and start talking about the bike.
A sense of calm comes over me as Michael listens to me explain the parts of the model.
All the lessons I had with the Crew, coming forth.
The anxiety I’ve felt for days, fades with my small bit of normalcy.
The tenseness down my spine slipping away as Michael listens intently.
I’m removing the bike’s tail lights when SUVs start pulling into the garage.
Michael steps back as I stand fully as they park.
Doors slam open, and I watch Jameson and Owen leave for the other elevator, along with a handful of others.
Leo comes around one of the vehicles, talking to Julio and Drew before he sees me.
They walk away as he strides towards me, every step commanding authority.
Michael steps further back, hands behind his back as Leo’s rigid expression remains intact, flashing his gaze to him.
“You’re relieved. Report to Animal,” Leo’s voice cuts through the air. Michael nods his head, swiftly walking away and joins Igor to follow after the others. “You’re up later than usual.”
I give him a confused look.
“It’s almost 2AM,” he says, and I almost guffaw. I glance at where Michael and Igor disappear onto the elevator. Well, crud muffins.
“Didn’t realize it was that late,” I murmur, tossing my rag aside and exhale roughly. “Got caught up teaching I guess.”
Leo gives me a soft look. “I apologize for not being around as much the last few days.”
“It’s alright, I’ve made some good progress. Soft tail runs by the way.” I nod at it. “Engine sounds like it has a bad case of pneumonia, but it runs.”
His gaze moves to where it sits. Somehow his expression becomes even gentler.
“Well, since you’re back, ready for bed?” I ask.
Leo pulls his eyes away from the motorcycle, stepping closer. I anticipate him kissing me, leading me to the private elevator, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans down and picks me up as I lightly yelp in surprise. A giggle comes out next as I hold onto his shoulders.