Page 40 of Hollyhocks

And like always, I find myself in a pickle after seeing my dad. I have no phone because I broke it.

I squat down, picking up the frame of what used to be my way to connect to the world. “Son of a bitch, Fitz. Why do you let him get to you like that?” I hang my head in shame, tossing the broken piece onto the floor again. “You’re better than this.” I stand, my knees popping to remind me I’m not as young as I used to be.

“Rhett is never going to let me manage this shop by myself if my days are going to be like today.” I start walking to the office phone to call Rhett and I’m trying to think about what to say to him.

I’ll need to close the shop for the rest of the day. I have to get my house ready for my sister and I need a new cell phone.

“A wild fucking day.” I pick up my hat from the floor, dusting it off by slapping it on my thigh when a loud crash from the back of the shop has me spinning around.

I don’t say anything. I freeze not wanting to make a sound. It could be nothing but with how my luck is going today, I doubt it. I’ve been trying to shake the sense of someone watching or following me. Since my dad showed up out of nowhere, I’m thinking it’s him and some of his little buddies spying on me.

I take one step, wrapping my fingers around a crowbar Rhett keeps leaning against one of the pillars that is between two hydraulic lifts.

Another jarring metal sound echoes, this time coming from the other corner. I lift the crowbar onto my shoulder. Sweat beads at my temples from the adrenaline pumping through my veins. My heart is thunderous, booming inside my chest like a thunderstorm.

“I have a weapon!” I announce, wanting to give this person a warning. “And you know what—” I scoff, the insanity of my day making me chuckle “—I have not had a good day. It’s only eleven in the morning. Eleven! The day has hardly even started and I’m over it. I’m sick of it. I’m ready to go to bed, but no. No, I can’t because I have shit going on I can’t explain. So what I’m trying to say is, I’m not really in the mood, okay? I haven’t even had my fucking cup of coffee.” I slam the crowbar on the ground to scare whoever is in the shop with me. “And not that you need to know, but I need a cup of coffee for my day to go smoothly. I haven’t been this grouchy in a very long time. I woke up with a weird mark on my cock, had amazing sexy dreams, and I swear I’m hearing voices. I don’t feel like myself. Please, do me a favor and just go. I don’t have the energy to fight someone right now.”

I stop talking, realizing I’m blabbering too much of my personal life away. I sound like a maniac. Look at me. I’m alone, holding a crowbar in the middle of the garage, and no one is replying to me.

Holding the crowbar out in front of me, I inch behind a car and then slam the metal down on the ground when I turn right. I close my eyes and keep swinging as I take small steps forward.

Peeking one eye open, my shoulders sag in relief when there’s no one there. The only thing I’ve managed to do is put dents on the floor. My cheeks puff before I blow out a breath. I’ve never felt more ridiculous than I do at this moment.

I peek around the second car and that’s when I notice oil droplets on the ground. I follow the trail around the third car, then the fourth, and it leads to the line of oil on the shelves.

There are small droplets. Nothing too hard to clean up, but it stops at the shelves. One bottle is turned on its side, dripping onto the ledge, then leaks over onto the floor. Picking it up, I tighten the lid and stand it up, then proceed to check all of the tops of the oil containers.

Maybe this mess is from yesterday. I did do a few oil changes. I could have sworn I cleaned up.

I laugh at myself and then wipe my forehead on my sleeve. “Fucking Hell, Fitz. Get your shit together.” Seeing my dad has me on edge. I need to figure out what to do because my dad will go out of his way to make sure I have nothing.

He will make my life miserable. He will use all of his money and influence to take everything away from me, leaving me with nothing, so I have no choice but to crawl back to him.

I’d rather die than work for him or have my nephew work for him. He has made it his life’s mission to make my life and Heather’s life a living Hell. He wasn’t a good dad when we were teens, and he has only gotten worse since we are adults now.

Leaning the crowbar against the wall, I grab a few cotton cloths, paper towels, a degreaser, and baking soda. After soaking up the excess oil with the paper towels, I pour degreaser over the stains, then add the baking soda. It creates a paste after I mix it all together. It helps lift the stains off the floor.

I shouldn’t care about oil stains given the fact it’s a damn car shop, but this business is new. I want to show Rhett he can count on me to keep the shop in working order and after how this morning has gone, I’m wondering if I’m capable at all.

When the spot is cleaned up, I place the materials I used on the shelf, then rush to the front office to use the phone.

I only know two phone numbers off the top of my head. My sister’s and Rhett’s. I place the phone against my ear and sigh in exasperation while staring up at the ceiling. It rings and rings, leaving me more anxious with every unanswered second that passes.

The door to one of the bays opens, allowing the light in. It’s Rhett and Creed.

“Oh, fucking great.” I’m not in the mood for Creed. He is an acquired taste that I do not think I will ever acquire.

I hang up the phone, noticing the handle has oil-stained fingerprints on it. I add a pep to my step as I hurry out of the office to greet them.

“What is that smell?” Rhett rears back as if he has been slapped. His face pinches together and he waves his hand in front of his face.

“It fucking reeks,” Creed snarls, yet continues to sniff the air. He follows the scent until he is standing in front of me. “It’s you. You reek.”

I lift my arm and take a sniff. “I smell like fucking pine needles and sandalwood. What are you talking about? I do not stink.”

Creed takes that as an invitation to step closer, completely invading my space. He sniffs again then gags. He has the fucking audacity to audibly gag.

“Yes, you do. I don’t know what the hell you rolled in, but you need to shower.”

---