Chapter Sixteen
Jamie stared at the covered shape. Masked yet so familiar. His gaze skittered around the garage. Past the workbench with its tool drawers, which he’d check before he went to the hardware store. His gaze snagged on the potting bench where Aunt Millie’s gardening tools still were, although the big-brimmed hat she usually wore when working out in the hot sun was not on its usual hook. Probably just as well; critters seemed able to get into even the best-sealed working garage. But it dug at that deep, hidden tear inside him, this further sign that she was gone.
It took him a moment to steel himself, to get his mind into logistics mode. He couldn’t think about the emotions attached to this, it was simply a car that had been stored for a long time and would need attention to get rolling again. He walked toward the car. Wondered with a frown why he was suddenly thinking of toothpaste. Shook it off.
He selected the smallest of the three keys on the ring, the one that went to the tiny padlock on the cable that held the car cover in place. He bent to unlock it, and without a word Zee walked to the other side and bent to tug the cable now attached only on that side clear. She coiled the plastic-protected metal cable carefully, so that it wouldn’t accidentally ding the car. He walked to the back of the car to tug the heavy chamois-like cover free; Millie had taught him early that, in her view, it was easier to put it on front to back, so you had to take it off and roll it up back to front. The sixteen-year-old he’d been, beyond excited at learning to drive in the classic Mustang, would likely have just yanked it off and left it in a pile to be straightened out later.
He noticed a large object, also covered, in the back corner of the garage. Once he had the back of the cover pulled clear—with Zee helping on the other side, to keep it tidy—he realized what the object was. Or rather what they were. Because the Mustang was up on jacks.
“The tires.”
“Yes. I pulled them off so there wouldn’t be flat spots.” Once she realized he wasn’t coming back, Jamie thought. But she wasn’t sniping, she was just explaining. “Things got crazy at work, and I couldn’t get over to drive it often enough, and those are expensive tires.”
He hadn’t even known she’d bothered. But he should have. “What else?”
Zee shrugged. “Washed it, waxed it, made sure the underside was clean. Blocked a few places mice might be able to get in. Hence the mousetraps, which were thankfully empty most of the time. Peppermint oil spread around helped, I think. They don’t like the smell much.”
Ah. The toothpaste. That explained that.
“Changed the oil,” Zee continued, “so it’d have clean in there. Filled the tank to keep moisture from building up, put stabilizer in. Probably on the edge of its effectiveness by now, but it should be okay. Put it on a trickle charger. Wouldn’t have bothered, but the battery was new.”
“Zee,” he began, but stopped because he didn’t know what to say.
“So now,” she went on, ticking off a list in a very Zee-like manner, “we need to check and make sure no critters made it. Belts, hoses, wires. Check for nests. Pull out the stuff I used to block entry points. Check the wipers. Fluids. Reconnect the battery. Get the tires back on, check the pressure.”
“Brakes?”
She gave him a look that so reminded him of the old Zee it was nearly a punch to the gut. “Plan on needing them?”
“It’s the Mustang,” he said with a grin that was nearly genuine.
She laughed. It sounded nearly genuine, too. “They should be okay, might be a little rust, but that’ll go fast, once she’s rolling again.”
He studied her for a moment, decided to risk it. “When did you get to be an expert on storing classic cars?”
The light of laughter left her eyes. “When I needed to be.”
“Zee, how many times can I say I’m sorry?”
She gave him an odd look. “That wasn’t aimed at you. I was missing Aunt Millie.”
“Oh.” He grimaced. “Sorry. World doesn’t revolve around me, right?”
She gave him a look that as much as said, “Mine did, once.” That was a punch to the gut. But she didn’t say anything, and he wondered how big an effort it was.
His mouth tightened, but he got words out evenly enough. “Guess we grew up, huh?”
“I’m still working on that one.”
“Me, too,” he said softly.
Then, briskly, Zee was back to business. “Probably should wash it once all that’s done. Even covered, stuff accumulates.”
“Wanna help?”
He said it before he thought, thinking of all the fun times they’d had doing it back then, usually ending up wetter than the car, a nice result in a Texas summer.
But once it had also ended up with them both soaked to the skin and in the tree house, the day teenage hormones had overrun all sense and they’d given in.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I didn’t think you did. I’m sure you’ve become too much of a gourmet to want plain old hometown offerings.”
He recoiled at that. In fact, the banquet was there and available, but he hadn’t partaken for a very, very long time. Which she would know, if she ever bothered to come to a show anymore.
“And how the hell would you know?”
“Did you forget I was there when you headlined in Fort Worth the first time?”
He winced inwardly. Okay, she had a point, even if it was a bit dated. That was their first tour date back in Texas after they’d lifted off, and it seemed half the city had turned out to welcome back the home-state boys made good. And half of those seemed to be women who had their own particular kind of welcome home in mind.
And he’d been amped enough, caught up in the undeniable fact that it was actually happening, that they were happening, that he’d gone a little crazy. The show had been wild, long, and damned near perfect; it seemed nobody could put a finger wrong and he hit every note dead center and felt like he could hold it forever.
It was after the last encore that things got a little fuzzy. He wasn’t sure what he’d imbibed, liquid or otherwise, only that he’d awakened before dawn with a half-naked woman—a total stranger—sprawled next to him and a raging headache hammering behind his eyes.
And it wasn’t until much later that he remembered that Zee had not only been there—and come backstage before the show—he’d also made sure she knew where the party was after. And Boots said she’d shown up, but he was already well on his way. Just the thought of what she’d seen made him a little queasy; she would have walked in on everything she’d feared from the beginning. He’d swear he’d never touched the woman—he had this vague memory she’d come in attached to Scott, their drummer, which put her off-limits because the Scorpions didn’t poach—but he’d certainly touched the other party favors.
No wonder she’d believed it when the first, wrong news broke about the OD.
He drew in a deep breath, and turned to face her head on.
“I won’t lie to you—I never have—and say I didn’t fall into the swamp for a while. I did. But I climbed out that next morning, Zee, and I never went back. Even now, when—”
He cut off his own words sharply. That was a road he was not ready to travel. That led to places he hadn’t acknowledged even to himself.
She was studying him. “Never?”
“Any time I was tempted, I just thought of you, and what you probably saw that night.”
“I got an eyeful, all right. She was pretty, in a big-city kind of way.”
“I didn’t even know her name. Does that make it better, or worse?”
Her mouth twisted rather sourly. “Yes.”
“Zee—”
She shook her head. A strand of that glossy dark hair fell over one eyebrow and she brushed it back. “Look, you moved on, I moved on. Let’s not explode this truce with memories we can’t do anything about.”
It was a sizeable peace offering. He knew he should grab it and be grateful. And he gave it his best effort.
“Agreed. Thank you.”
She nodded, and went back to checking the car.
And he stood there mutely, denying even to himself that he hated the idea that she had moved on from what they’d had, even though he knew damned well he had no right.