The Chance
Author: Robyn Carr
“Pajamas,” he said.
“Hmm. What an absurd idea.”
He laughed at her and thought to himself, if a man is going to move in with a woman as sexy and tempting as Laine Carrington, it’s damn lucky she likes sex. More than that, she fell into cohabitation seamlessly. His days were long and he was up early, yet she would slip into the shower with him and shave his face. “You’d think a mechanic would be more scruffy and less meticulous,” she said.
“Would you like me scruffier?” he asked.
“I’d like you to sleep a little later, but I understand you can’t.”
And yet he’d never felt more rested.
Domesticity appealed to him. He realized that maybe he had moved in with Cara searching for something along these lines. Living with Laine was entirely different—there was a routine, for one thing. Intimacy, for another; intimacy that wasn’t limited to sex. Sometimes they cooked together; sometimes it was his turn or she’d cooked earlier in the day. Sometimes they went out or if they’d each had long days, he brought something home. On those evenings when he didn’t have to be at the garage, when they read or watched TV, she slowly moved into his space until she was cuddled up to him, soft in his arms, her hair tickling his chin. She brought home another chaise for the deck and on rare sunny days, they walked across the beach to Cooper’s. She rubbed his feet and he massaged her shoulders after a karate session at the dojo she’d joined. They found a division of chores that came naturally. He usually did the dishes, they shared the laundry and he pushed the vacuum around because her arm was still weak and sometimes sore. They were always cleaning the bathroom or kitchen—they were equally fussy about those rooms. The one place she wanted autonomy was when she got a rainy-day cooking urge. If he got in her way, she shooed him out of the kitchen. She could be so focused. She allowed him to sit on a bar stool across from her work area. And though he watched her closely, she didn’t seem to even notice he was there. All these simple acts brought him amazing comfort.
While he was slow to make that transition from his motel to her house, one day he overheard her say something that stroked his male pride very nicely. At the diner Gina asked Laine, “And when your leave is over and you have to go back to work?”
“I can’t even think about it.”
Things were good, so good.
Eric didn’t necessarily want to put less energy into the service station, but he had been in touch with a couple of his best employees from Eugene to see if there was any interest in relocating to Thunder Point. So far he’d had no success. And then, in the middle of March when the buds were just forming on the plants and trees, when the sun came out more often than it hid, when he’d been a kept man for just a month, a truck pulled up to the station and parked outside the garage doors.
Eric wiped his hands on a rag and went outside to see what the customer needed, but as the man stepped out of the cab, Eric’s face split in a huge grin when he recognized Al Michel. He walked toward him and grabbed his hand in a firm grip. “Al,” he said. They pulled together, shoulder to shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
Al shrugged. “Just thought I’d check out your new setup,” he said. Then he looked around, sizing up the front of the station. “Lucky’s, is it?”
“You have no idea.” Eric laughed. “Looking for work?”
“I could do some, yeah. Unless you’re full up.”
“I’m not. In fact, I’m looking for help but the last time I called Eugene, no one knew where you’d gone.”
Al shook his head. “The new owner, he has some policies that didn’t sit well with me. He brought in some of his own people, lowered some wages— And he’s not interested in hiring any gypsies.”
“Lowered pay? He wasn’t supposed to do that,” Eric said, frowning.
“Seems like he forgot what he promised you. You might wanna give Rafael a call, ask him how he’s getting along. That man’s got a flock of kids and you know kids,” he said, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “They’re so damn stubborn about eating. And they grow out of their shoes all the damn time.”
“Last time I talked to him, he was worried about the cost of a move. And his wife’s family is in Eugene. I’ll check in again and see if anything has changed for him. When can you start here?”
“I travel real light. I’ll go find myself a room somewhere and get right to it.” He nodded at Eric. “Guess you’re gonna make me wear one of those fancy uniforms.”
“I’ll take care of that for you. And I’ve got a place for you to stay.”
“Ah, appreciate it, Eric, but I’m not real big on roommates....”
Eric shook his head. “No roommates. I’ve been slowly moving out of my room at the Coastline Inn. I holed up there when I got to town and didn’t bother looking for anything permanent because I was busy working on updating the station and pouring a slab for a body shop. Keeping this place open seven days a week at the same time—I never had time to think about moving. I bought a little refrigerator and toaster. The motel has coffee in the morning and there are plenty of places to eat around town. I still have a few things to take out of that room—it’s a good weekly rate. Use it as long as you want.”
“Where are you hanging your hat these days?”
“I moved in with a woman,” he said.
Al whistled. “You move fast.”
Eric chuckled. “No, I don’t. I’ve been with her since January and I’ve been taking one shirt at a time to her house, giving her plenty of time to realize she’s lost her mind. But she’s crazy, I guess. I can clear the rest of my stuff out of that room in ten minutes and leave you the little appliances.”
“Can’t wait to meet this mentally challenged woman,” Al said with a big smile.
“I’ll give her a call...ask her what her plans are for dinner. If she’s busy, I’ll take you to the restaurant at the marina.” Eric couldn’t stop grinning. “Damn, I’m glad to see you, Al. I’m not real well fixed here. Got two old boys who pumped gas here before I bought the place, Manny came with me and there’s Justin—seventeen and full of attitude.”
Al smirked. “Sounds like hats and horns all day long.”
Eric was thinking, No way you can make me not love my life right now. “I’ll take you over to the motel. Let you settle in. If you have too much stuff, there’s storage space in the garage.”
“I never carry more than I can lift, Eric.”
Eric cocked his head. “You ever put down any roots? Even for a little while?”
“What constitutes roots? I had a few years here, a few there. I wasn’t too impressed with roots. Any of our old customers head this way with the classics?”
“A few. I haven’t been looking for them or advertising yet. I’ve been busy just running the station and the wrench end of things. I guess it’s about time for me to get on that. Let me get Manny. He’s going to want to say hello. Then I’ll take you over to the Coastline Inn.”
* * *
Eric walked into Laine’s house at five-thirty, early for him. He was met with delicious smells and the sound of faint music coming from upstairs. In the kitchen he found a pot simmering. He lifted the lid and just inhaled greedily—his favorite meal, steak soup. Then he climbed the stairs.
Laine was humming to the music; she had her iPod attached to the speakers in the bathroom. There was also the sound of water sloshing around. Eric sat on the bed and took off his boots, smiling to himself. Then on a whim, he took off his shirt and pants.
The soaker tub was large enough for two, but he didn’t want to presume too much so he wrapped a towel around his naked body and made a little noise in the bedroom.
“Eric?”
“It’s me,” he said. He moved into the bathroom.
“You’re early,” she said.
“And so happy to be early.” He dropped the towel and stepped into the tub with her. “Come on, make some room here.”
She pulled up her knees for him. “Why are you early?”
“Why are you making steak soup? The sun is shining. You never make big soups or stews when the sun is shining.”
“I had an overwhelming day. Nothing I can’t handle, but Jesus, does everyone have skeletons in their closets? I was looking for one of my deadbeat dads for the sheriff’s department. He was supposed to have left the state and I found him right in North Bend. Working in a garage that, unless I don’t know anything, is a chop shop!” She sighed. “Now it’s going over to auto theft. The police thought they were just dealing with unpaid child support and alimony but when they lock this guy up, he’s never going to pay a dime to his family. I wanted to slug him.”
“Did you arrest him?” Eric asked.
“No, I told him he’d won the lottery and asked for his address so I can send him the check. He’s so stupid, he doesn’t have a clue I figured out what was going on in that garage. Why’d it have to be a garage? You have a garage!”
“Not that kind of garage. How’d you find him?”
“It was too easy. He has a shiny new credit card and he likes to pay his cell phone bill with it. And a few other things like sexy lingerie, clubs, booze. No car insurance, rent or doctor’s bills, but his cell phone bill goes to an address for some woman’s apartment. His last known address was in California and he’s used a bunch of different names, but he always pays the cell phone bill. He’s very attached to his phone. And of course the imbecile is on Facebook.” She shook her head. “He probably has some very valuable pictures on his phone. I’ll bet he does Facebook from the phone. And he has to use his real name so all his buds and girls know it’s him. The dumb-ass.”
Eric frowned. “Wait a minute here. You found him from a cell phone number? And Facebook? How’d you do that?”
“I sent him an email,” she said with a shrug. “Asked him if he was the John Doe who entered a lottery contest in California three years ago at that last known address and promised to send a representative to his place of employment with the paperwork so he could collect.”
“Paperwork?”
“I created a form. Easy.”
“And he bought that? That you were from the lottery?”
“He didn’t ask for ID.”
“And what if he’d figured you out? What if he realized he was being tricked?” Eric asked.
“That would have been totally awkward....”
“Or dangerous?”
“Nah. I wasn’t confrontational. I would’ve gone away quietly.”
“How did you know? About the chop shop?”
“I could smell it. They weren’t open for business. No sign, no opened garage doors, nothing—yet they were full of late model vehicles in varying states of dismantling. Not a big chop shop—a nice small one. So I interviewed him a little—that lottery prize was going to come in handy. I mentioned to him I knew pay on a mechanic’s salary could be tight especially with a family, et cetera. Did he want the prize money deposited or mailed to him by special courier? And the idiot asked if he could get the prize in cash because car thieves live on cash. But don’t worry, Eric. I was vigilant. Cautious. And armed.”
He was quiet. Then he smiled and touched that little dimple in her cheek. “I’m so glad I’m not running from the law....”
“I just wanted a deadbeat dad. I didn’t want all that felony drama. This is supposed to be part-time!”
“Scary...”
She didn’t respond. Then she said, “Are you in the mood for steak soup? You love steak soup.”
“Pajamas,” he said.
“Hmm. What an absurd idea.”
He laughed at her and thought to himself, if a man is going to move in with a woman as sexy and tempting as Laine Carrington, it’s damn lucky she likes sex. More than that, she fell into cohabitation seamlessly. His days were long and he was up early, yet she would slip into the shower with him and shave his face. “You’d think a mechanic would be more scruffy and less meticulous,” she said.
“Would you like me scruffier?” he asked.
“I’d like you to sleep a little later, but I understand you can’t.”
And yet he’d never felt more rested.
Domesticity appealed to him. He realized that maybe he had moved in with Cara searching for something along these lines. Living with Laine was entirely different—there was a routine, for one thing. Intimacy, for another; intimacy that wasn’t limited to sex. Sometimes they cooked together; sometimes it was his turn or she’d cooked earlier in the day. Sometimes they went out or if they’d each had long days, he brought something home. On those evenings when he didn’t have to be at the garage, when they read or watched TV, she slowly moved into his space until she was cuddled up to him, soft in his arms, her hair tickling his chin. She brought home another chaise for the deck and on rare sunny days, they walked across the beach to Cooper’s. She rubbed his feet and he massaged her shoulders after a karate session at the dojo she’d joined. They found a division of chores that came naturally. He usually did the dishes, they shared the laundry and he pushed the vacuum around because her arm was still weak and sometimes sore. They were always cleaning the bathroom or kitchen—they were equally fussy about those rooms. The one place she wanted autonomy was when she got a rainy-day cooking urge. If he got in her way, she shooed him out of the kitchen. She could be so focused. She allowed him to sit on a bar stool across from her work area. And though he watched her closely, she didn’t seem to even notice he was there. All these simple acts brought him amazing comfort.
While he was slow to make that transition from his motel to her house, one day he overheard her say something that stroked his male pride very nicely. At the diner Gina asked Laine, “And when your leave is over and you have to go back to work?”
“I can’t even think about it.”
Things were good, so good.
Eric didn’t necessarily want to put less energy into the service station, but he had been in touch with a couple of his best employees from Eugene to see if there was any interest in relocating to Thunder Point. So far he’d had no success. And then, in the middle of March when the buds were just forming on the plants and trees, when the sun came out more often than it hid, when he’d been a kept man for just a month, a truck pulled up to the station and parked outside the garage doors.
Eric wiped his hands on a rag and went outside to see what the customer needed, but as the man stepped out of the cab, Eric’s face split in a huge grin when he recognized Al Michel. He walked toward him and grabbed his hand in a firm grip. “Al,” he said. They pulled together, shoulder to shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
Al shrugged. “Just thought I’d check out your new setup,” he said. Then he looked around, sizing up the front of the station. “Lucky’s, is it?”
“You have no idea.” Eric laughed. “Looking for work?”
“I could do some, yeah. Unless you’re full up.”
“I’m not. In fact, I’m looking for help but the last time I called Eugene, no one knew where you’d gone.”
Al shook his head. “The new owner, he has some policies that didn’t sit well with me. He brought in some of his own people, lowered some wages— And he’s not interested in hiring any gypsies.”
“Lowered pay? He wasn’t supposed to do that,” Eric said, frowning.
“Seems like he forgot what he promised you. You might wanna give Rafael a call, ask him how he’s getting along. That man’s got a flock of kids and you know kids,” he said, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “They’re so damn stubborn about eating. And they grow out of their shoes all the damn time.”
“Last time I talked to him, he was worried about the cost of a move. And his wife’s family is in Eugene. I’ll check in again and see if anything has changed for him. When can you start here?”
“I travel real light. I’ll go find myself a room somewhere and get right to it.” He nodded at Eric. “Guess you’re gonna make me wear one of those fancy uniforms.”
“I’ll take care of that for you. And I’ve got a place for you to stay.”
“Ah, appreciate it, Eric, but I’m not real big on roommates....”
Eric shook his head. “No roommates. I’ve been slowly moving out of my room at the Coastline Inn. I holed up there when I got to town and didn’t bother looking for anything permanent because I was busy working on updating the station and pouring a slab for a body shop. Keeping this place open seven days a week at the same time—I never had time to think about moving. I bought a little refrigerator and toaster. The motel has coffee in the morning and there are plenty of places to eat around town. I still have a few things to take out of that room—it’s a good weekly rate. Use it as long as you want.”
“Where are you hanging your hat these days?”
“I moved in with a woman,” he said.
Al whistled. “You move fast.”
Eric chuckled. “No, I don’t. I’ve been with her since January and I’ve been taking one shirt at a time to her house, giving her plenty of time to realize she’s lost her mind. But she’s crazy, I guess. I can clear the rest of my stuff out of that room in ten minutes and leave you the little appliances.”
“Can’t wait to meet this mentally challenged woman,” Al said with a big smile.
“I’ll give her a call...ask her what her plans are for dinner. If she’s busy, I’ll take you to the restaurant at the marina.” Eric couldn’t stop grinning. “Damn, I’m glad to see you, Al. I’m not real well fixed here. Got two old boys who pumped gas here before I bought the place, Manny came with me and there’s Justin—seventeen and full of attitude.”
Al smirked. “Sounds like hats and horns all day long.”
Eric was thinking, No way you can make me not love my life right now. “I’ll take you over to the motel. Let you settle in. If you have too much stuff, there’s storage space in the garage.”
“I never carry more than I can lift, Eric.”
Eric cocked his head. “You ever put down any roots? Even for a little while?”
“What constitutes roots? I had a few years here, a few there. I wasn’t too impressed with roots. Any of our old customers head this way with the classics?”
“A few. I haven’t been looking for them or advertising yet. I’ve been busy just running the station and the wrench end of things. I guess it’s about time for me to get on that. Let me get Manny. He’s going to want to say hello. Then I’ll take you over to the Coastline Inn.”
* * *
Eric walked into Laine’s house at five-thirty, early for him. He was met with delicious smells and the sound of faint music coming from upstairs. In the kitchen he found a pot simmering. He lifted the lid and just inhaled greedily—his favorite meal, steak soup. Then he climbed the stairs.
Laine was humming to the music; she had her iPod attached to the speakers in the bathroom. There was also the sound of water sloshing around. Eric sat on the bed and took off his boots, smiling to himself. Then on a whim, he took off his shirt and pants.
The soaker tub was large enough for two, but he didn’t want to presume too much so he wrapped a towel around his naked body and made a little noise in the bedroom.
“Eric?”
“It’s me,” he said. He moved into the bathroom.
“You’re early,” she said.
“And so happy to be early.” He dropped the towel and stepped into the tub with her. “Come on, make some room here.”
She pulled up her knees for him. “Why are you early?”
“Why are you making steak soup? The sun is shining. You never make big soups or stews when the sun is shining.”
“I had an overwhelming day. Nothing I can’t handle, but Jesus, does everyone have skeletons in their closets? I was looking for one of my deadbeat dads for the sheriff’s department. He was supposed to have left the state and I found him right in North Bend. Working in a garage that, unless I don’t know anything, is a chop shop!” She sighed. “Now it’s going over to auto theft. The police thought they were just dealing with unpaid child support and alimony but when they lock this guy up, he’s never going to pay a dime to his family. I wanted to slug him.”
“Did you arrest him?” Eric asked.
“No, I told him he’d won the lottery and asked for his address so I can send him the check. He’s so stupid, he doesn’t have a clue I figured out what was going on in that garage. Why’d it have to be a garage? You have a garage!”
“Not that kind of garage. How’d you find him?”
“It was too easy. He has a shiny new credit card and he likes to pay his cell phone bill with it. And a few other things like sexy lingerie, clubs, booze. No car insurance, rent or doctor’s bills, but his cell phone bill goes to an address for some woman’s apartment. His last known address was in California and he’s used a bunch of different names, but he always pays the cell phone bill. He’s very attached to his phone. And of course the imbecile is on Facebook.” She shook her head. “He probably has some very valuable pictures on his phone. I’ll bet he does Facebook from the phone. And he has to use his real name so all his buds and girls know it’s him. The dumb-ass.”
Eric frowned. “Wait a minute here. You found him from a cell phone number? And Facebook? How’d you do that?”
“I sent him an email,” she said with a shrug. “Asked him if he was the John Doe who entered a lottery contest in California three years ago at that last known address and promised to send a representative to his place of employment with the paperwork so he could collect.”
“Paperwork?”
“I created a form. Easy.”
“And he bought that? That you were from the lottery?”
“He didn’t ask for ID.”
“And what if he’d figured you out? What if he realized he was being tricked?” Eric asked.
“That would have been totally awkward....”
“Or dangerous?”
“Nah. I wasn’t confrontational. I would’ve gone away quietly.”
“How did you know? About the chop shop?”
“I could smell it. They weren’t open for business. No sign, no opened garage doors, nothing—yet they were full of late model vehicles in varying states of dismantling. Not a big chop shop—a nice small one. So I interviewed him a little—that lottery prize was going to come in handy. I mentioned to him I knew pay on a mechanic’s salary could be tight especially with a family, et cetera. Did he want the prize money deposited or mailed to him by special courier? And the idiot asked if he could get the prize in cash because car thieves live on cash. But don’t worry, Eric. I was vigilant. Cautious. And armed.”
He was quiet. Then he smiled and touched that little dimple in her cheek. “I’m so glad I’m not running from the law....”
“I just wanted a deadbeat dad. I didn’t want all that felony drama. This is supposed to be part-time!”
“Scary...”
She didn’t respond. Then she said, “Are you in the mood for steak soup? You love steak soup.”