Chapter Five
Jax
“Hey, look who decided to show up!”
“Must’ve been a long night.”
“Alright, what’d she look like this time?”
I high-fived the boys in my shop before I slung my rag over my shoulder and got to work. I still had to give that damn wheel bearing one last look over before I gave it back to the customer, but all I could think about was meeting Marty today.
“Oh, shit,” I murmured.
“What? Did you forget her name already?” Chip smirked.
“Hey, asshole, what did I tell you about not smoking in the shop?” I reached over and plucked the cigarette from his mouth before I tossed it on the ground and put it out with my toe. I didn’t have any issues with them doing it elsewhere, but we used way too many flammable fluids for them to be smoking inside.
And I’d worked too fucking hard for this shop to have it be blown sky-high.
“So, did she have long legs like the last one?” Jake shouted from underneath a car.
“Oh god, the legs on her…” Chip groaned.
“Nah, I didn’t get any ass last night,” I said as I grabbed my tool box.
“Nice to know that happens to the almighty Jax Weatherspoon,” Mitch quipped.
Jake grunted as he wheeled out from underneath his car. “Did you make some sweet money last night?”
“Don’t you have a customer’s car to be working on instead of that heap of junk, Jake?”
“Hey, this is a classic.”
“Heeeeere we go,” Mitch scoffed before he rolled his eyes.
“Bought this beauty at the salvage yard across town. If I could fix her up, she’d be a good one to sell.”
Chip chuckled. “Oh man…you’re still trying to flip cars you can’t fix, Jake?”
“Hey! I sold the last one I fixed up, dick!”
“To a cougar who wanted to pay you in pussy,” I smirked.
“And it was good pussy, too.” Jake defended.
I laughed as I finally made my way over to the car. I’d hired these guys when I first opened; I couldn’t pay them right off the bat, but I told them they could have free rein of the shop for their own personal cars, should something ever happen. I was writing off their purchases as business expenses before the IRS came snooping around, but by that time, I could pay them a little something, and I was able to dodge the issue with some fancy talking on Chip’s part. He might not be much with the ladies, but he sure as hell could sell a point if he stuck to it.
I hired Jake because of his knowledge of engines. He might suck at restoring cars, but he’s the only person I’ve ever seen that can build a solid engine from some brush in the woods and the chewed-up gum in his pocket.
And Mitch. Well, Mitch is my detail man, and he can do killer things with paint. Any paint job, any design, any upholstery inside the car, any specialty tires or hubcaps, he’s your guy.
I trained them all in basic maintenance and told them I could only pay them minimum wage, but any work done on cars needing their particular expertise would come with a bonus. It got them selling my shop to their buddies, who in turn earned us even more business by word of mouth, and we ended up sticking with the pay schedule because everyone earned a nice chunk of change while building our reputation across town.
Just then, the vibrating of my phone pulled me from my work station. I pulled the rag off my shoulder and wiped my hands, and my memory jogged just as I shoved my hand into my pocket to turn off the notification.
I needed to text Marty and tell her where we could do lunch.
“Who are you messaging?” Jake asked.
“None of your business, dude,” I murmured.
“He only gets defensive like that when it’s a chick,” said Jake. “What’s her name?”
“Your mother!” I shot back.
“Them jokes are old, Jax!” Mitch yelled across the garage.
“Maybe,” I admitted, “but look at how pissed Jake is right now.”
His face was red and his fists were clenched, and even though I always threw that little insult his way every time he started to get cocky and wise, it never stopped being funny to me.
I shot Marty a message letting her know about the burger joint up the road from the shop, gave her the address and a few surrounding landmarks, and told her I’d see her at 1:00. I didn’t have time to chat or ask her how she slept because my customer was about be there in less than an hour for his car, and I figured I could ask her all that stuff over a juicy burger and some extra-crispy fries.
And maybe a milkshake.
The guys and I finally sank into a rhythm in the workhouse and we started cranking out cars. One by one, customers came and picked up their specialty orders, and new cars were dropped off and added to the schedule. I took a break to hit the bathroom, taking a few deep breaths along the way to destress from the hectic day this had turned into, and that’s when I heard my phone vibrate again.
“Shit,” I whispered before I stuffed myself back into my pants and yanked my phone out. I noticed it was a few minutes before one, and I hadn’t even started to clean myself up for lunch yet. My face was streaked with oil, my hands were black with grease, and my overalls were covered in garage dust.
“I’m here. How far away are you?” Marty’s message said.
I’m just down the road. Let me wash my hands and I’ll see you in a few.
I went to the bathroom sink and grabbed some industrial soap to use on my face and hands. I couldn’t get everything off and my face was still a little streaked up, but it would have to do. That was the great thing about building up our reputation: we had so many cars lined up that sometimes we had to redirect them to other reputable shops around town. The downside was it was easy to lose track of time, and that didn’t ever go over well.
I stepped out of my work overalls and quickly snatched them from the floor, along with my rag, and hurried my way out of the bathroom. I slung them into the changing room out back and grabbed my leather jacket, pulling a piece of gum out of my pocket and popping it into my mouth before I darted my head out and yelled into the garage.
“Breaking for lunch. Be back in an hour.”
Jake popped his head out from behind the car he was working on, “Bring me back some food, bitch!”
I flipped him off. “Get your mama to make you a sandwich!” I could hear the guys roaring as Jake threw a tool onto the ground, and my feet carried me out of the main door and straight down the sidewalk to my Mustang. Filo’s Burgers And Fries was my favorite spot to get lunch in town, and when I first bought the building for my garage, I honestly chose it because it was so close to the place. I had a running tab with the owner that would cash out automatically every so often, and because the guys and I always came here for lunch during work hours, Chip suggested that I could write off our meals as business expenses.
I finally got to the joint and Marty was standing right there. Her red hair was half pulled back, letting little strands fall around her face, and her skinny jeans morphed to her body while her boxy t-shirt fell loosely over her chest. Even dressed down the way she was, my blood still heated up when she was around.
And I hadn’t been around her for a very long time.
“Hey, Jax,” she smiled lightly.
Her eyes found the leather jacket again and I watched as her hand came out to touch it. She took the worn black hide between her fingers, and I watched as her eyes glossed over with memories.
I knew what that felt like because it happened to me on stage the other night. The moment I came around and saw it was her, I had to improvise my routine because I’d completely lost my train of thought. The choreography me and the other guys put together at the last minute all dropped to the back of my mind as visions of high school with Marty’s thighs wrapped around my hips came roaring to the front.
“Still looks good on you,” she smirked.
And I knew right then those same memories were flooding back to her mind as well.
“Still naughty as ever,” I grinned.
I watched her cheeks flush before her hand dropped quickly from the jacket, and I reached out to clutch her wrist before I could think about what I was doing. I held her gaze as people bustled around us, and her eyes danced with mine as the warmth of her skin pulsated up my fingers.
“Let’s get some food,” I said lowly.
We sat down and a waitress came over and dropped a couple of menus in front of us. Granted, this place wasn’t known for its wonderful staff or incredible hygiene expectations, but the cooks could sling the best burgers in town, and it was the only place that would double-fry my fries.
We both stared blankly at the menus, and every once in a while, I caught her peering over her menu at me. It was cute, really; like she was a recovering addict slowly circling the one thing that spiraled her down the drain. There were times where I saw a glimpse of the teenager I knew in high school; at others, I was on the receiving end of a glare from the woman she’d grown up to be.
And I wanted to get to know the ferocity behind that glare.
“You gonna put that menu down so we can talk?” I smiled.
“Once I know what I want.”
“A double cheeseburger with extra pickles and no onions, french fries with a side of mustard instead of ketchup, and a large chocolate and banana milkshake.”
I grinned as I watched her slowly lower her menu, and she took in a deep breath before she sighed and dropped the menu to the table.
“You remember.”
“How could I forget? It’s all you ate in high school.”
“It’s all you took me to eat,” she countered.
“And you loved it.”
I held her gaze as she continued to study me, and when the waitress arrived to take our order, I decided to go ahead and make it quick.
“I’d like a bacon burger with everything, a double order of extra crispy fries, and a large chocolate shake. She’ll have a double cheeseburger with extra pickles and no onion, an order of fries with a side of mustard for dipping, and a chocolate—”
“—Mint milkshake, please,” she interjected.
I flicked my gaze to her before she nodded her head in punctuation, and I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.
“You hate mint anything,” I chuckled.
“People change.”
“Alright,” I said as I feigned defeat. “A mint milkshake for the lady, please.”
The waitress scribbled our orders onto her pad and hurried off, finally giving me the chance to have Marty all to myself; at least for the next half hour, anyway.
I asked her more about her work; she told about how tired she was of renting a production studio and how her dream was to own one of her own. She’d apparently built up a loyal client base and was getting referrals, and she told me she’d just taken the step of quitting her day job as a secretary in the fine arts department at the college up the road from where she lived.
“Congratulations,” I smiled.
Seconds later, our waitress whipped around the corner, lowered her tray to the table and slammed our cups and plates down in front of us without a word before bolting away.
Marty’s eyebrows raised. “Wow. She’s a friendly one.”
I laughed and then watched her closely as she picked up her fork and knife and slowly began to cut into her burger, and all I could do was sit and watch in astonishment.
“I see your parents ingrained that back into you,” I mumbled.
“There’s nothing wrong with not eating food with your hands. Plenty of people do it,” she countered.
“But you’re not just ‘people’.”
“So, what? I’m snooty like my parents because I choose to eat my food with utensils instead of with my hands like an animal?”
I saw a flash of fire behind her eyes and I knew I’d hit a sensitive spot by bringing up her parents; no real surprise there. Then, I watched her grab her milkshake and take a long pull of it before her eye twitched slightly. I could tell she was holding back how disgusting she thought it was, but it was cute that she was trying to show me she was different.
That she wasn’t vulnerable.
But I knew better. I knew, deep down inside, the Marty Leoni I fell in love with back in high school was still in there somewhere.
“You hate it,” I smirked.
“It’s perfect.”
“It’s disgusting.”
“It’s delicious.”
I waved my hand in the air to chase our waitress down, and Marty was two seconds away from gagging in her lap as she raced over to our booth.
“Could I get that chocolate banana shake, please?” I smiled.
“Mine’s just fine,” Marty croaked out.
“Oh, give it up, Em. You hate it,” I chuckled.
She groaned and put her head in her hands, remaining that way until the new milkshake was brought to her. I gave the mint shake back to the waitress and opened a straw to stick in the new one, and I tilted it up underneath the curtain her hands had made and slowly smoothed the straw over her lips.
“You know you want it,” I said lowly.
“And how many times have I heard that phrase from you?” She finally cracked a smile and began to giggle.
God, her nose still crinkled when she laughed, making her adorable freckles dance across her features. I loved how her whole face would light up when she was entertained.
But then, we were interrupted by the sound of a buzzing phone that, for once, wasn’t mine. I watched while Marty dug around in her purse, and as she did, I couldn’t help but bite back a groan as I watched her lips suckle a straw I was now becoming very jealous of.
“Duty calls,” she sighed.
“Work problems?”
“No, It’s Marianne. I’m her maid of honor, and there’s a lot I’ve got to do to help her get ready for the big day.”
“Sounds absolutely terrible.”
“Eh, it’s worth it,” Marty shrugged.
I watched as she grabbed her milkshake and slid out from the booth. I hadn’t been able to talk to her nearly as much as I wanted to, and a part of me wanted to chase her down or, at the very least, walk her back to her car. But, just as I stood up to go cash us out at the register, Marty whirled around with that damn straw stuck between her lips.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” she asked.
“I close up my shop at 7:00, then I’m free the rest of the night. What’s up?”
“You have your own shop?” she asked.
“Yeah. I own the car shop up the road.” I pointed in its direction as we made our way up to the register, and she slowly panned her head back around to me while I took out my wallet from my back pocket to pay.
And it was then I felt her hand curl around mine. I gave my card to the person behind the register before I turned my head towards her, and the corners of her eyes crinkled from the biggest smile I’d ever seen on her face.
“You did it,” she whispered before she squeezed my hand.
“Was there ever any doubt?”
“Not with me,” she said lowly.
“So,” I started before I took my card back, “what about tomorrow night?”
“I was gonna ask what you were doing for dinner. I’d like to hear more about your shop.”
“Alright. But you’ll have to send me a text to let me know where to meet you,” I smirked, “or where to pick you up,” I added as we walked towards the exit.
And as we stepped out into the parking lot, being bathed in the midday sun, she turned to me as she started walking towards her call.
“I’ll shoot you an address!” she yelled.