J

 

I head out to the bays to check on today’s delivery, hoping Mr. Pierce’s fuel pump is in it. I would love to get this one done. It has been one headache after another.

 

I see Mike splitting the order that was just brought in. “Hey, Mikey. Please tell me my fuel pump’s in there?”

 

“Yeah, J. It’s here. I was just about to head over to the truck with it.”

 

“I got it. I can’t wait to get this one done.”

 

“I am pretty clear today, so let me know if you need a hand.”

 

“Thanks, Mikey. I’ll yell if I need you.”
 

Mikey, one of the younger mechanics, is a good kid. Pop hired him right out of vocational school. He likes to hire them young before any other garage can ruin their impressionable minds.

 

Hoisting the box onto my shoulder, I walk past Todd’s bay, noticing Cole still standing around.

 

“Do you need help?” Cole asks, but I don’t acknowledge him.

 

Todd chuckles. “This is probably something you should learn now. J is one tough chick. She can fix almost anything, she can lift at least two times her weight, and she will kick your ass if you treat her like a girl. I made that mistake once. She cussed me out and made me look like an ass in front of the whole garage. J may be stubborn, but she will ask for help when she needs it.”

 

“Interesting.”

 

“That she is, my friend. That she is.”

 

I walk to my service bay and turn on my stereo. I can’t work without music. I’ve tried, but get distracted when it’s too quiet. After putting on a rock station, I busy myself pulling the four bolts out of the truck bed so I can get to the fuel pump. This truck has been a pain in my ass for days. I will be so glad when it’s finally done. Mr. Pierce beats the hell out of it, then can’t understand why everything starts breaking and it costs him a fortune to fix.

 

When I remove the last bolt, out of the truck bed, I look around. Cole is no longer lingering.

 

“Hey, Mikey. Can you give me a hand moving this?”

 

“Sure thing, J.”

 

When he comes over, we lift the truck bed, moving it back in order to give me access to the fuel pump.

 

“You good?” he asks.

 

“Yep. Thanks, Mikey.”

 

I tend to get into a zone when working, blocking a lot out. When somebody taps me on the shoulder, I jump and look around to see Nan standing there.

 

“J, Mr. Pierce called. He wants to know if you’ll be done by four.”

 

God, this man is a pain in my ass. “Hopefully…as long there aren’t any more issues.”

 

“I told the prick you’d be done when you’re done, but you know him. Always in such a hurry.”

 

“Thanks, Nan. This shouldn’t take me too much longer.”

 

“Do you need any help with dinner tonight?”

 

“No, I should be good. Just making pasta and a salad.”

 

“I should warn you. Your dad invited the new guy.”

 

I groan inwardly as I nod and turn back to the fuel pump. Lovely.

 

One Friday a month, we all get together at Pop’s and have a “family” dinner. I usually just make some sort of pasta. Nothing fancy. Pop loves getting all the boys and their families together. He thinks of these guys as his own. So, in his own way, I guess he got that big family he always wanted. We usually just hang around and talk, the kids running around the house or the yard. If it’s nice enough, everyone swims in the pool.

 

As I finish installing the pump, my mind wanders to whether Cole has a wife or a girlfriend. If so, will he bring her tonight? With a small shake of my head, I push away the images of the man and his rather large biceps. I need to get this truck done if I want to get to Pop’s and have dinner finished on time. 

 

Thankfully, I get Mr. Pierce’s truck done and am able to skip out a little before three, then head to Pop’s to start dinner. I don’t have to go far because he lives on the same property as the shop. The building the shop is housed in was used as some kind of warehouse. After he bought it, he converted it into a huge garage with more bays than I think we will ever need. His house sits at the end of a long driveway at the back of the property. I lived there until two years ago when I moved in with my boyfriend.

 

What a fucking joke that was. I thought I had finally found real love. Apparently, I found love. He found a housekeeper, a chef, and a paycheck while he was out screwing anything that moved.

 

Coming home early one day to find some blonde with her face in his lap was my undoing. I was crushed, heartbroken. I haven’t trusted someone outside my “family” for a long time. I never told Pop the real reason Justin and I broke up. I didn’t want to see that look of pity on his face. He never liked Justin, but he tolerated him for my benefit. I should have listened to him, but I was a stubborn ass, thinking I knew better.

 

Hearing the door slam, I turn to see Nan coming into the kitchen. “What do you need from me?”

 

“I’m good. I thawed the sauce last night. It’s already on the stove. Just need to start getting the salad together. The boys won’t be here for a while, so it’ll give me time to clean up a little.”

 

She looks around the open kitchen, which shares space with the living room. Pop’s work shirts are draped on the back of the couch, beer cans are strewn on the coffee table, and a pizza box sits on the chair. I love the man, but he’s a slob.

 

She smiles. “I’ll start in the living room.”

 

I head for the bathroom, knowing what I’ll find. Towels on the floor, empty toilet paper rolls sitting next to the commode. How does this man function on a daily basis? I wonder.

 

I finish making the bathroom shine and head for the laundry room. I stop in Pop’s room to gather his dirty clothes, noticing the one thing he does is make the bed. I smile, shaking my head. He’ll let a week’s worth of dishes sit in the sink and dishwasher, towels all over the place, living room wrecked, but he makes the bed.

 

After tossing a load of towels into the washer, I head back to the living room to see Nan pulling out the sweeper.

 

“Nan, I’ll get it. Don’t worry about it. Come talk to me while I cut up things for the salad.”

 

“I don’t mind.”

 

Nan’s been cleaning up after Pop for years. I wonder if she comes over at times other than family dinners. When she’s done, she puts away the sweeper and comes over to sit at the island while I finish prepping the salad.

 

I would never tell anyone, but I secretly love these dinners. I love cooking, especially for a lot of people. Making dinner for one is just sad. Most of the time, I’m a peanut butter sandwich or cereal for dinner kind of girl, which is pathetic. We have been doing these get togethers since I was a kid. Back then, they were just a bunch of pizzas…until I was old enough to start cooking for everyone. In his own way, I think it was Pop’s way of getting a break from me for a while. The boys would bring their wives and girlfriends, who would dote over me. They always kept me occupied and out of Pop’s hair.

 

He was alone with a three-year-old girl. He didn’t have a clue what he was doing, hence why I’m treated like a boy and swear like a trucker. These men I work with are like brothers and uncles to me. They will drop just about anything to help me. Even with all the male influences, Nan made sure I knew how to be a woman, too. She taught me how to do my hair, put on make-up, use a tampon. Between her and Pop, I’m a no bullshit stubborn female. I have become pretty comfortable in this little life I lead. But I am so closed off to love and relationships, I sometimes feel so alone…even with all these people in my life.

 

I hear the door close as I finish getting the salad together. Pop walks into the kitchen and kisses me on the head. “Smells good.”

 

“Thanks. First batch of noodles should be done soon.”

 

“Good, good. The boys will be here any minute.” He looks distracted as he turns to Nan. “Nan, got a minute?”

 

“Sure, Darren.”

 

She follows Pop into his office and they shut the door. Huh, wonder what the hell that’s about? I smile as I head in the opposite direction to change out the washer and dryer.

 

When I walk back into the kitchen, I frown. I can hear Pop’s raised voice, as well as Nan’s, but I can’t hear what they’re talking about. Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good.

 

The front door swings open. “Sweet Jesus, J. I’m starving!”

 

Laughing as I strain the noodles, I see Tiny and his wife, Chrissy, walking in. “Calm yourself, Tiny. It’s almost ready.”

 

Chrissy walks over and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll get the plates out.”

 

We’ve been doing this for so long, everyone jumps in and helps. After dinner, the boys always head to either the living room or outside to drink, while all the woman gossip and do dishes. I imagine this is what it’s like to have brothers and sisters.  

 

Before too long, the house starts filling up, but Pop and Nan have yet to come out of the office. Not paying any attention to what is going around me, I start setting food on the island so everyone can dig in. I feel a hand on my lower back as I lean over and set the hot pan of noodles down.

 

“Need any help?” says the deep, husky voice.

 

I look over my shoulder to see Cole a little too close for comfort. Who the hell does this guy think he is? I back up a few steps, staring at him incredulously.

 

“Bitch, where you at?”

 

I swing my head in the direction of the voice, seeing Jules walking into the kitchen. I give one more look at Cole and head over to her.

“Who is Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?” she asks.

 

I pull her into the living room. “Cole, a new mechanic Pop hired.”

 

She looks over her shoulder at him. “He’s hot.”

 

Julie Henderson has been my best friend since we were five. I walked into my first day of kindergarten scared out of my skull. She came running over to me in her pink dress, pink socks, and a pair of Mary Jane’s on her feet. She looked me up and down. I wasn’t the typical five-year-old girl. There were no bows, no flowers, no ruffles. I stood there in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of black Converse. She smiled and asked if I wanted to be her best friend. From that moment on, we have been inseparable.

 

I think that is why we get along so well. We balance out the crazy in each other. Jules keeps her hair short, which looks good with her petite figure, and changes the color or style regularly. She has a full sleeve of flowers tattooed on her right arm, dresses in the trendiest of outfits. I think her pixie size is the reason she keeps her hair outrageous and her tattoos loud. She doesn’t want to get lost in the crowd. I, on the other hand, am content to never be the focus of anything. I love fading into the background.

 

I put my arm through hers and lead her back into the kitchen. “You think anything with a dick is hot.” I turn to everyone in the room. “Let’s eat.”

 

“How can you say that?” Jules asks. “Remember that guy who tried to pick me up at the club last weekend? He wasn’t hot at all, but I am pretty sure he had a dick.”

 

I roll my eyes. “I stand corrected. You think almost everyone who has a dick is hot.”

 

She laughs and pushes me toward the island. “Better. Now, feed me. I have been slammed in the salon all day. It was client after client, and no one would get me food.”

 

I stand and listen to Jules complain about her clients at the salon as everyone fills their plates. She’s not fooling anybody. She loves what she does, a hairdresser at Twisted Up Salon, but she just hates dealing with the public.

 

When we graduated, I had already been working at the shop for years. I knew this was the path I would take, what I would do for the rest of my life. Jules, on the other hand, hadn’t worked a day in her life. Her mother babied her since the day she was born. She didn’t clean her room, wash her own clothes, had no idea how to cook. Her father was a very controlling man, demanding her mother not work. Her job was the house. She cleaned, paid the bills, had dinner on the table when he walked in the door from his day at the gas company. Her dad’s motto was “Housework is woman’s work.” I would go as far as to say Jules was extremely spoiled. Of course, she would deny that, but come on. When you are twenty and have no idea how to make a box of macaroni and cheese, you’re spoiled.

 

Jules had to grow up pretty fast. One moment, she was living it up, doing nothing for herself, and the next, her father, Paul, had a stroke and needed everything done for him. Patricia’s focus went from waiting on Jules to caring for her husband. When it became too much, they found him a care facility a few towns away. Patricia packed up everything, sold the house, and moved to a small apartment to be closer to him. Jules was left to move into her own apartment and learn to survive. It was her sink or swim moment. So she learned to swim…with a little help from me and Pop.

 

I finally see Nan walking down the hallway. She looks pissed. Her face is red and splotchy, her nose running like she’s been crying. She walks over to the front hallway, never making eye contact with anyone, grabs her purse from the hook by the door, and walks out. Pop comes down the hall a few seconds later and heads to the fridge for beer.

 

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

 

Pop looks around, seeing everyone eating and watching him. He looks directly at me. “All’s good, J-bird.” He takes his beer and walks into the living room.

 

Jules comes to stand next to me, some salad on her plate. “What’s up with Poppa Bear? He seems pissed.”

 

I shake my head. “I have no idea.”