Page 104 of Flipping the Script

“It didn’t say, but I doubt it. The outage map shows a ton of blackouts. It’ll take time to work through them.”

“Fucking perfect,” he grumbled.

I wrapped my arms around myself as a chill settled over me. “There’s a generator in the shed. Stay here. I’ll get a flashlight.”

Being careful I didn’t bump into anything or trip, I made my way into the kitchen and grabbed the flashlight I kept on the counter.

Flicking it on, I hurried back to where Jesse still stood, looking like a pissed-off cat who’d gotten caught in the rain. “Got the light. Not that you couldn’t see that.” I waved for him to follow me. “Come on.”

He grumbled something, his footsteps heavy as he stomped along behind me.

I could feel my bad mood growing with each step as we left the cabin and made our way to the shed, and I was about ready to punch something by the time we were inside the dark, musty-smelling building.

I didn’t even know why I was so pissed off. I was wet and gross, but I’d spent years touring in a crappy van, then a less crappy bus. It wasn’t the first time I’d had car trouble in the rain.

I just needed to keep my shit together until we got the power on and I could get warm and clean. I’d be in a much better headspace then.

“Can you?” I handed him the flashlight.

Taking it, he pointed it at the generator, watching as I went through the steps of getting ready to start it.

I held my breath and pulled on the recoil cord, all set for it to rumble to life so we could finally get out of the rain.

Nothing happened.

“Bas?” he asked, sounding as distressed as I felt.

“I don’t know.” I pulled on the cord again. The engine didn’t even splutter.

“Is there gas in it?”

“Of course there is,” I said testily. “I’m not a moron.”

“What about the oil? When was the last time that was changed?”

“At the start of the summer.” Standing, I threw up my hands in exasperation. “I know you think I’m some simpleton who can’t chew gum and walk in a straight line, but I’ve been coming up here my entire life. I know how to do the proper maintenance, and I did it!”

“I got it,” he snapped. “You’re not a simpleton. Can I take a look?”

Snatching the flashlight out of his hands with more force than was necessary, I switched places with him. I pointed thelight at the generator as he knelt next to it, his shoes squelching with all the muddy water they’d absorbed.

“I already told you there’s gas in it,” I snapped when he checked the fuel level.

“I know. But I need to look at everything so I don’t miss something. A generator isn’t a car. I know enough to hopefully figure out what’s wrong, but this isn’t my area of expertise.”

“Fine. But IknowI checked everything.”

“Are you going to bite my head off if I ask if you mixed old and new gas?”

“Yes. I definitely will.”

“Okay. What about the oil? Did you change or check it recently?”

“Yes.” I managed to not snap at him, but barely.

He found the choke lever and made sure it was in the right position.

“And before you say something snarky,” he said, cutting me off before I could tell him I’d checked the lever. “I figured the lever was fine, I’m just running through my checklist.”

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