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“You want to be what?” he asks, his eyes wide.
“I want to be a mechanic,” I say proudly. “Like you, Daddy.”
He blinks. “Baby, you’re a girl.”
I stare at him, shocked. “And?”
He shakes his head. “Shouldn’t you want to, I don’t know, wear dresses and paint your nails?”
“Not all girls do those things, Dad.”
He laughs. “No … but … honey, I don’t think it’s the right profession for you. It’s a world of males and … well … male things.”
I straighten. “You don’t think I can handle that, because I’m a girl? That isn’t enough of an excuse, Daddy. I’ve been under those cars since I was big enough to do so, and you know it. Don’t be like the rest of them, don’t make me feel stupid for pursuing something that isn’t necessarily feminine.”
My dad’s face softens. “Baby,” he says gently. “I’m damned proud when I watch you under a car, I just want you to do what’s right for you. If this is it, then Qui
I beam and throw myself into his arms. “Are you saying I can work for you?”
He chuckles, squeezing me tightly. “After you talk to your mother about it.”
I come back to the here and now, with a smile on my face. My dad never had a chance of stopping me. I was born to be under cars and once he convinced my mother of this, I never left the garage. With a smile, I back out and drive to work.
The garage my dad owns, and has owned since I was born, is only about twenty minutes away from home. There are five of us that work there. Jace, Le
Jace is my closest friend out of the four guys. He’s two years older than me and an amazing mechanic. He’s got a skill under the hood that not many people have. He’s also a playboy at heart. He has more women than underwear, but I have a friendship with him that is just that, friendship. There is, and never has been, anything sexual between us, even though he’s handsome, he’s fu
Le
Matty is our newest member, and he’s only twenty but is blossoming into a great mechanic with every passing day. He’s training under us, so he also studies as well as puts in hours at the garage. He’s good with his hands, but most importantly, he’s got an eye for the smaller things. The things we often miss. He’s smart as hell, and he’s taken in every single thing he’s learned in his time with us.
I arrive at the garage and pull my car into the reserved spot that’s always been mine. I throw my booted feet out and then slide my body out at the same time slamming the door behind me. I’m always first to arrive and last to leave. But it’s not just because I love this place. I help out with the cars, but I also have paperwork coming out of my ass on top of it. I don’t mind, though. There’s a certain peace this place brings me, and being here gives me stability. I’d be lost without it.
I walk towards the large, two-bay garage with Pixie Wheels written in bright blue across the top of the old, steel colored walls. My mom used to call me Pixie when I was little so Dad made sure to include it into the name when they started this business. I’ve never had the heart to change it. My parents had so many happy years in this place, and I think it’s part of the reason I hang onto it so tightly. It’s the only happy memories I have left.
I open the door that leads into the office from the workshop, and step inside. There are two offices in the front left-hand corner of the garage, one that has a reception desk and files, and another that has a computer and phone, as well as a crap load of tools and boxes stacked against the wall. The second is where I lock myself away to do most of my work. Matty rotates his time between the garage and reception, because we can’t afford a receptionist right now. I had to install a phone in the workshop so we could take calls out there.
I drop my phone down onto the reception desk and flick on the lights. I open the door leading out to the garage and see we have four cars still needing to be pushed through before we can take on any more today. The locals around here know the business, know me and know my story, so they are loyal and always bring their cars in to us, even still, when you’re so far behind, business has to be better than that to stay afloat.
I sit at the desk booting up the computer and hoping to get through some invoicing before the guys start in two hours. I have a lot to do and it’s the only time we’re quiet enough for me to be able to do anything without interruption. I manage to pore through fifty invoices before Le
“Morning, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Le
He studies me and his expression becomes grim. I know he can see that I’m exhausted, hell, I can see that I’m exhausted. I avoided looking in the mirror this morning because I knew that I’d see what resembled a run-over, beaten-up clown looking back at me. I don’t have time for a reminder of what I already know.
Le
“Rob give you trouble again last night?” he asks as I try to step around him.
I wave a hand. “Nope, I look like a clown because I was out raging all night.”
He gives me a bitter expression. He doesn’t like my humor. He’s too caring. He doesn’t understand that my humor is all I have left.
He reaches out and takes my shoulders in his big hands, looking down at me, his expression dark. “Qui
I frown, he can see right through me. “He got drunk, made a mess, it was fine.”
Le
“What’s the point, Len?” I throw my hands up. “We’ve all tried and let’s face it, he doesn’t listen. He’ll never listen.”
“You’re ru
He’s telling me nothing I don’t already know.
“Don’t worry, I’m made of steel.”
“Qui
“Le
I enter the garage just as Jace, Oscar and Matty come in. They’re always on time, each and every one of them. I’m grateful for that. Jace strides over, wearing his favorite pair of coveralls, which believe me, do not take away from his masculinity one tiny bit. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and plants a loud, smacking kiss to my forehead. “Mornin’, sunshine, you look like crap.”