“Good luck for what exactly?” I laugh. “It’s one in the morning, I kinda feel like if he’s waiting up for you, whatever you’re looking for is a done deal.”
She makes a face, like she’s thinking it over. “He’s probably thinking he’s gonna get lucky, huh?”
I make a point of looking her over. “I’d say he’s lucky enough you’re meeting up with him.”
She laughs.
“He is lucky. It’s late, and I could just go home and plop into bed and grab my vibrator.” She cuts herself off, looking like she’s just stepped into something nasty. “No offense.”
“Are you serious? None taken. Go, have fun on your date. Plopping into bed and passing out is my favorite way to spend Friday night.”
“You know I think Ivan is still around,” she teases.
“See you tomorrow.” I wiggle my fingers at her. “You can give me all the juicy details later so I can live vicariously through you.”
My jeans and worn gym shoes are a welcome change to the confining uniform and heels I’ve been wearing all night. I slip a sweatshirt over my head and rework my hair into a ponytail.
I count out my tips, feeling the stress lift off my chest as I approach the amount needed for the next credit card payment. There may actually be enough to put a little extra toward the card with the lowest balance. It has the highest interest rate, so I’m racing to get it paid off first.
Other than Darren’s classic ’68 Chevelle Coupe, my car sits alone in the parking lot. Darren loves his muscle car and if asked about it, will talk about it for a solid twenty-five minutes before coming up for air.
I shove my key into the ignition of my little sky-blue sedan. I’m not even sure these things are made anymore, but I can’t afford a new car anytime soon.
Click.Then nothing.
“No, no, no, no.” I sit back, take a deep breath and crank the key again.
Click.
I check the headlights. Maybe I left them on and killed the battery.
A new battery I can do.
It’s just the battery. It has to be just the battery.
I pull out the battery jumper I keep in the trunk and pop the hood to test the battery, a wry smile touching my lips as I remember how my dad used to say it was a waste of time hanging out with Derek while he worked on cars.
Well, to be fair my dad said a lot of bullshit when it came to Derek. Said Derek wasn’t good enough for me—too rough around the edges, too blue collar, too ordinary. But Derek saw me, loved me. That’s more than my corporate accountant father ever did.
He’d probably be gloating if he was here to see the mess it all turned into.
“Fuck.” I stare at the test reading. The battery is fine.
“Everything okay?” A familiar voice calls from the doorway of the employee entrance.
I sigh.
“It won’t start.” I step back from the car as Ivan jogs down the steps. “Were you watching me on the security cameras or something?”
“No.” The left side of his mouth kicks up in a smile. “But Kirill noticed you having trouble and let me know.”
“Of course he did.” I gesture toward the guts of my car. “Any chance you know anything about cars other than which Italian leather to buy for your interior?”
He feigns insult with raised eyebrows.
“First of all, the only Italian leather to use for any interior is Tuscan.” Moving to stand beside me, he hooks his hands on his hips and looks down at the engine and all the wires and hoses around it. “And secondly, I have no idea what any of this does.”
He says it with such sincerity, it makes me laugh.
