Page 11 of Cruel Lies

"I’m sure; thanks, Tony." I groaned as I moved to grab the empty bottle of mechanic’s soap on the shelf above the sink. "Oh, come on, who the fuck forgot to change out the bottle?"

Ron snickered in the corner. "Think we’re out, but you know it wasn’t me."

John shrugged as he tugged his boots off and slipped into sweats and joggers. "I’ll order more. Just use the backup soap under the sink."

I yanked the cabinet door open and chucked yet another empty bottle at his head. "You’ve gotta be fucking with me. There’s no soap here! What am I supposed to do with all this grease?"

Tony wheezed in my ear. "I’ll give you something you can use that slick hand for."

I didn’t think. Didn’t even realize I had moved. All I knew was, one minute I was standing there with Tony the Two-FacedLizardbrain over my shoulder, and the next, I had spun around and now had his blood on my fist. The same blood that was streaming from his nose.

A very broken nose.

Oh. Whoops.

"Sorry, Tony," I muttered dismissively, "my hand slipped. Must be all this grease."

John grunted, the closest sound to a laugh he ever made. Ronnie busted up laughing, not even trying to stifle his reaction. Tony, however, turned as red as the blood pouring from his nose and launched himself at me, rage-fueled snarls escaping him.

Unfortunately for him, I was adept at getting out of the way in time.

His head made a lovelycrackingsound as it bounced off the fucking metal bench, and John gave me a look I knew well as he hoisted Tony up by the back of his collar and dragged him out of the employee locker room. We’d be talking about this later. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. And though I wasn’t at fault, I was gonna have to pay for this, one way or another. If I wasn’t outright punished, I’d have to pick up some of Tony’s jobs. He’d milk this ‘workplace injury’ for all the sympathy and time off he could.

And John had little sympathy to begin with.

Ronnie slid over to my bench as I attempted to wipe as much grease as I could onto my already dirty jumper instead, failing miserably. "You see that tricked-out Torino this morning?"

I rolled my eyes. Ronnie was, at his core, just another man. Granted, he was an older and wiser one, but cars were his passion, and that thing was probably as old as he was. "Yeah, I saw her. She was a beauty, huh?"

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. "Original rims, BF Goodrich drag race tires, beautiful upholstery, leather seats, blacked-out windows, and Vanta Black paint. Easily the nicest restoration I’ve seen in a long ass time."

"I thought you were a GTO guy, Ron," I teased, turning to rummage through my locker in the hopes I found something to help me out. I squealed with excitement when I found a half-empty bottle of hand sanitizer hidden behind my shoes. "Fucking jackpot!"

The alcohol-based fluid cut through the grime and finally,finally,I could slip into my white running shoes. I should have worn my old shoes, but they were still soaked from the fuckingpuddleI’d tripped right into on my way home yesterday.

Ron and I walked out to his car together, the stragglers, as usual. He offered me a small smile, patting my hand in that condescending way I usually let slide. "Are you sure you don’t want to join us tonight, Hannah?"

I shook my head, fighting the urge to sigh. "Not this time, Ron. Maybe if I find myself too lonely to bear it, I’ll wander over."

"I’ll keep a barstool warm for you."

I watched his taillights disappear into the evening fog, darkness making it appear more ominous than it was. I hadn’t let the fog and dark scare me before. I wasn’t about to let it get to me this time, either.

I tightly gripped the strap on my messenger bag and started for the end of the parking lot until my eyes caught on a dark shape at the end of the alley that shouldn’t have been there.

My heart dropped into my stomach, and I felt a sheen of sweat break out on my forehead.

That fucking Torino.

The damn thing had no business being here at nightfall. Yet there it was, idling, a small cloud of exhaust fumes erupting from the tailpipe as I looked into its all-black surface, wishing I could see behind the fucking window tint.

I clenched my bag tighter, pulled my knife out, and counted to three slowly as I turned around and headed in the wrong direction.

Maybe they’re here for someone else. Maybe they’ll just stay there, and I’ll be on my way.

All lies I told myself until I couldn’t ignore the sound of the engine revving as the headlights bathed me in a bright glow of pale blue-white light.

Fuck.

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