Chapter Six
Wade
“Ah, these old Fords just keep on rollin', if you take good care of 'em. But I see out front you drove here in a new Beemer?” the mechanic said as he handed me the air filter for Eryn's Ford.
“The Ford isn't mine. I'm just helping a friend out.”
“Ah, yeah. Well, hey, at least your friend's car is a lot cheaper to fix if something goes wrong than that German monster you're driving!”
I chuckled. “That's true, that's true.”
“Say, haven't I seen you somewhere before?” the man asked. “You got a real familiar face.” I felt my heart sink a little; I really, really hoped this guy hadn't recognized me from some celebrity gossip mag or something.
“Nah, I'm nobody,” I mumbled. “Just a sports coach at Florida State.”
“No, no… I've seen you somewhere. I know I have.”
Here we go…
“Ah!” his eyes lit up. “You go to that bar, Coconut Grove, don't you?”
A wave of relief washed over me, and I smiled as I answered. “Yes! My buddy John and I are often there for beers.”
The mechanic grinned. “Me, too, pal, me, too. Good joint! Great music.”
“It is, it is.”
“And, they got some hot, young waitresses,” he added with a lascivious grin.
I chuckled. “There are some pretty girls there, yes.” I didn't want to get drawn into a conversation with this guy who seemed to have the ability to talk for hours on end.
“All right, man, I'm in a rush, so can I just pay for this filter and then maybe I'll catch you at Coconut Grove sometime?”
“Sure thing, pal. That'll be $28.99.”
I left in a hurry, eager to get over to Eryn's place. She'd been on my mind the whole morning, even though I'd been doing my best to keep my thoughts about her strictly volleyball related. If I were to be perfectly honest, I was not sure that I'd succeeded with that.
I pulled up outside her apartment building just as she came out the front. She smiled and waved when she saw me, but there was definitely something in the way she looked – a bit of unease or worry that she was trying to hide. I wondered if I should ask about it, but decided against it. Not at this time, anyway.
“Hi, Coach Vinson,” she said as I stepped out of the BMW.
“It's Wade, remember?” I replied with a grin.
She laughed. “Right…Wade.”
There was a smile on her face, but she was definitely holding back, keeping a distance from me. She seemed on edge, almost wary of me, but she was hiding it with a thin veil of cheerfulness that didn't appear to be entirely genuine.
“How are you feeling this morning?” I asked.
“I'm all right. You?”
“Yeah, all good. Here's the filter,” I said, holding it up. “Now, let's get this into your motor, and that old Ford will be running like new again in no time. Well, perhaps not totally like new, but close enough, huh?”
“Thank you so much,” she said. “Really, I appreciate this.”
I got my tools, went around to the front of her car, and she popped the hood for me. Eryn came over to watch me as I worked. Above the gasoline and oil smell of the engine, I could smell the scent of her perfume, and it was immensely arousing. I found it hard to concentrate on the task with her so close to me, looking over my shoulder, her long, chestnut hair unbound and brushing against my arm.
Still, it was an easy enough job, and I was done pretty quickly.
“All right, it's in. Let's crank that motor and see how she runs. Also, do you mind if I take it around the block a few times? That way I can check if there's anything else here that needs fixing.”
“You'd do that?”
“Sure.”
“All right, let's go,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat as she handed me the keys.
I started the car, and the motor fired right up. That was a good sign.
“Hey, you've got a USB music player in here,” I said as I saw the car's stereo. “A little bit of modern technology in this thing, huh?”
“It was a birthday gift,” she replied. “Turn it on if you want.”
“All right,” I replied, turning it on as I pulled out onto the road.
I was very surprised when a Nirvana song started playing.
“Nirvana? No way, you listen to this?”
“I like a lot of classic rock.”
I couldn't help but chuckle. “This is 'classic rock,' huh?”
“Well, it is like 25 years old, right?”
I nodded and sighed. “Yeah, true. I remember hearing this on the radio when it came out back when I was in elementary school and thinking it was about the coolest music I'd ever heard. Man, that makes me feel a bit old, to be honest.”
“You're only, uh, 32, though, right?”
“Yeah, 33 later this year.”
“You totally don't look it,” she blurted out abruptly. “I mean, if I were to guess, not knowing your age, I wouldn't put you a day older than 25.”
Suddenly, she blushed; I didn't think she had meant to be as open with her compliment. Still, I couldn't help but flash her a smile in response.
“Thank you, Eryn. I may not play pro anymore, but I still train hard every day and eat clean. I’m guessing you do, as well, right?”
“Yes,” she replied, somewhat uneasily. It appeared she regretted complimenting me, and was now feeling a bit uncomfortable about it. I decided to switch the conversation topic back to music.
“So, do you like any other 'classic rock' from the ‘90s?” I asked. “Man, I sure do miss those days, being a kid in the ‘90s.”
“I wish I had grown up then. Things changed after the ‘90s, growing up with Facebook, social media, and YouTube really isn’t all it’s been made out to be. But yeah, I like plenty of classic stuff from the ‘90s. I mean, rock was just so… I dunno, fresh and passionate then, right? Smashing Pumpkins, Radiohead, The Pixies, Soundgarden, Green Day…”
I couldn't help but flash her a massive grin. “Damn, Eryn, you know all that stuff?!”
She returned the smile, seeming happier to chat about this than compliments.
“Yeah, totally! It's one advantage of living in this age – I can just go on YouTube and find music from pretty much any era, and I also get more recommendations and discover other great stuff from Spotify.”
“Yeah, I guess I would have loved to have had access to stuff like that when I was growing up. For me, it was the radio and MTV. Back in the days when MTV, ya know, played more music than reality shows and other crap like that.”
“Ah, that must have been nice.”
“It was! I feel like music videos were a lot more creative then – in addition to the music being more diverse and interesting, too. I mean, no offense to the kids today, but the stuff that's out there…sheesh, it just seems like they're not really trying very hard.”
“I totally agree. I'm kinda ashamed of the sort of stuff that my generation is putting out. It's all really just shallow and materialistic.”
I was about to comment on how I knew all about shallow and materialistic garbage from my days in Los Angeles, but didn't really want to bring that up, so I held my tongue. By now, though, we'd come back to Eryn's apartment block, so I pulled the car over and switched the motor off.
“Well, this old girl seems to be all right overall,” I said, patting the dashboard, “but when I was looking at the motor earlier, I did notice a few things that probably don't have too much life left in them. If you want, I can pick you up a few more parts and install them for you.”
Eryn looked kind of embarrassed when I said this, and a blush reddened her cheeks. “Well, that's very generous of you, but I don't think I can, um, really afford to do much more maintenance now. I’m sure you remember that college students are usually broke,” she laughed.
“It's fine! I'll buy the stuff.”
She looked shocked. “But it's just not right; I can't ask you to do that. Not for free. I mean, it’s a big drain on your time, even aside from the money question.”
“I told you, I have an interest in fixing cars. I enjoy tinkering with motors. And besides, I wouldn't want one of my players to miss a game because her car broke down somewhere.”
She blushed again, and I couldn't deny she was damned cute when she was embarrassed.
“Well, I mean, if it really, really isn't any trouble,” she said hesitantly.
“Trust me, it's not.”
“All right. Thank you so much for your help this morning, Wade,” she said. “I honestly don't know what I would do without this little car. It may not be much, but it makes my life a lot easier.”
“No problem,” I assured her.
I didn't want to press the issue of the further maintenance or appear overeager to see her – even though I was – so I simply said a quick farewell, got into my SUV, and drove off. It felt good to have been able to help her – and to be able to get to know her a bit more. I had been pleasantly surprised to discover that she was way more than just a pretty face and a talented volleyball player. And, I was genuinely pleased to know she and I shared a taste in music. It felt like the age gap wasn’t so great.
It was there, though. There was well over a decade between us, and it was foolish of me to be thinking like this. I found her incredibly attractive, that much was true. And now that I was learning more about her, the attraction was growing far more intense than it had been over just her looks.
But the fact remained that not only was there this age difference, but I was her coach, as well. Two fences stood between us, not just one, and it would not be good to continue to think like this. As hard as it was, I needed to try to get her off my mind.
It was still early in the day and I figured it might be good to get out of town for a while just to clear my head. I took out my phone and gave John a call.
“Hey, buddy,” I said when he picked up. “You wanna take a drive down to St. George Island, chill on that white sand beach for the afternoon?”
“Sounds like a plan!” he replied enthusiastically.
“You wanna leave in say, 40 minutes or so?”
“I'll be ready, man. See you then.”
I drove over to a coffee shop and got myself a coffee and a sandwich while I waited for John to get ready. After that, I picked him up, and we drove for around two hours, laughing and reminiscing about our college days and listening to lots of good tunes.
We got to the beach around one in the afternoon. It was just what I needed to get my mind off things. We set up our chairs and beach umbrella on the sand and prepared to relax.
After a while, some college-aged kids arrived and set up a volleyball net some distance down the beach. From the looks of it, most of them were girls and were dressed in skimpy bikinis.
“Well, well, well,” John said, “have a look at what just arrived! What do you say we go down there and show 'em a thing or two about volleyball, huh? I mean, I'm not a pro like you, but I can still throw down.”
“Nah, man, let 'em have their game. I'm in the mood to just relax.”
“I don't just wanna go there for the game, Wade,” John grinned. “I can't see ‘em too close, but it looks like there are some serious hotties there!”
“Yeah, man, and they're like 12 years younger than you. Let's just chill here.”
John looked disappointed, but agreed. We sat and sipped our drinks and chatted for a while, but then the wind started picking up. One of the volleyball girls served far too hard, and the ball sailed over their heads and started bounding along the beach, the wind carrying it toward us. Another of the girls sprinted after it, but because of the wind, it just kept on going, seeming to accelerate faster and faster.
If I didn't stop it, it would probably be blown off into the ocean. Reluctantly, I got up and ran out to intercept the ball. As I saw the girl running towards me, I couldn't help but stare. She was wearing the tiniest, skimpiest bikini I'd ever seen – it only covered a few square inches of skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination, and she had one seriously killer body. As she came closer, I looked up and saw her face, and my eyes widened with surprise as I recognized her.
“Hi, Wade!” she exclaimed. “What a cool surprise, running into you out here! And, I hope you don't mind me saying so, but good God, you look hot without your shirt on.”
“Uh…hi, Tammy.”