Page 75 of Toxic

Opening up the back door, I dug around, swearing as I realized I didn’t have the tools I’d need. “Goddamn it,” I muttered.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I gave her a sheepish look. “I may have left my floor jack over near the tractor the last time I tried to fix it.” That was what I got for always leaving my tools spread out everywhere instead of putting them back when I was done using them. Dad had tried to drill that into my head over the years, but it never quite stuck.

“Okay,” she replied, sounding as though she didn’t know why that was an issue.

“I don’t have bottle jacks in the truck because they’re so damn small,” I elaborated.

She blinked at me with a neutral expression on her face.

“I have nothing to jack the truck up with so I can’t change the tire,” I added.

“Oh. Well, damn,” she said, looking around.

I laughed when it finally sank in for her. “Don’t you know how to change a tire?”

“No.” She shrugged. “I just steal another car whenever I get a flat.”

That made me blink in surprise. “Another…car?”

She shrugged again. “Want me to go ask one of those big rigs if they have a jack?”

I shook my head. “They won’t. They don’t change their own tires. They call their shipping company and they get it handled.”

“So what do we do?” she asked. “I could steal a car. There’s a nice one right there.”

“No,” I told her with a laugh. “No stealing a car. Besides, I’m not leaving my truck or the feed here.”

“I’ll call one of the guys to bring us a jack,” she said.

“That’s a great idea. Until then, I’ll see if someone here has one I can borrow.” I looked around and spotted a larger truck—it wasn’t a dually like mine but wasn’t tiny either—pulling in. There was a silver toolbox in the back, so I was hoping it’d have a larger bottle jack.

Loping over, I waited until the girl climbed out from the driver’s seat. A man came and stood next to her. I smiled at them. “Hi. Sorry to bother you but my truck has a flat and I don’t have a jack. Do you happen to have one I could borrow?”

They both gave each other a look and then she gave me a sheepish smile. “This is my boyfriend’s truck.”

I focused on the man next to her. He laughed and shook his head. “Not me. I’m gay.”

“Oh,” I said, laughing because I’d assumed he was the boyfriend.

“I have no idea if there’s a jack in the toolbox,” the girl said, “but if there is you can definitely use it.” She was nice and friendly, but clearly didn’t know much about what her boyfriend kept in his truck.

“Thank you so much,” I told her.

Her friend jumped in the bed and started digging around in the tool box. “Is this what you need?” He held up a tire iron.

My eyes widened as I stared at him. “Um, no I need a jack.”

He looked down at the tire iron and then chuckled. “Sorry, I don’t know what that is.”

At least he’d held up something that was useful for changing a tire. “Can I get up there and look?”

“Yes, please,” he said with another laugh.

Climbing up into the truck, I spotted the jack right away and held it up.

“Ohhhh,” they both said in unison.

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