Page 102 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
Mike snorts and walks around the front of my car. “Open up.”
I manage to find and hit the unlock button before he pulls the handle.
He hops in, his blue coveralls sliding against the leather seats. He glances around the interior. “New ride?”
I wipe the other cheek. “Um, yeah.”
Mike and I have never been very close. I know him, he knows me. Or rather he knowsofme. I’m sure Flynn’s told him enoughRosestories to give him an interesting impression. And there have been occasions like Flynn’s wedding, random get-togethers, and times when I was bored and decided to cause a little mischief at my brother’s shop where we’ve had a few conversations. And lord knows he’s had to bang out a lot of bumpers and doors from minor accidents I may have caused over the years. I always had the impression he didn’t like me very much.
“It suits you.”
For some reason, this observation makes me laugh. Maybe it’s the deadpan way in which he says it, or maybe I’m at the tipping point between sobbing and laughing and my heart just can’t take any more tears. So I laugh.
Mike smiles. He’s always had a nice smile. “You got car trouble already?”
“Um, no.” I sniff. “I’m just here to talk to Flynn.”
“It’s Sunday.”
Shit. I forgot. Pre-Jackie the shop was open seven days a week. Post-Jackie the shop is closed on Sundays except for special appointments. Flynn doesn’t like anything getting in the way of him and Jackie spending time together.
Mike doesn’t look like my distress bothers him. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
I’m tempted, but... “Nah, that’s okay.”
He nods. “That’s cool.”
We sit for a bit, neither of us saying anything, not a hint of pressure coming from him to talk.
Mike opens the glove box and checks out the console. “I’m seeing someone.”
“Really?” The admission catches me off guard. Mike is one of those deceptively good-looking guys. He’s handsome, very much so, but he is so under the radar that you don’t much notice it. In the few years I’ve known him, I’ve never heard him talk about a girl. And the fact that’s he’s talking tomeabout her surprises me one step out of my current pit of emotional despair.
He reaches down the right side of his seat and messes with the controls. His seat slides back, allowing him to lower his legs out of their hunch. “Well, I’m trying to, at least.”
I can’t help but find his mellow demeanor amusing. “And how’s that going for you?”
“It’s hard.” His eyes meet mine for a moment, a seriousness there I didn’t expect. “Anything worth having is.”
I hum in acknowledgement.
“She has trust issues, you know?” Seat adjusted, he drops a hand on the arm rest. “Doesn’t think I’m serious about her.”
“Really?” I give him the once-over, trying to see how reliable and laid-back Michael Falasco could be anything but serious and trustworthy. “But you’re so…” I gesture at him, unable to think of the word I mean.
“Thanks.” His face expressionless, he shifts forward to look over the hood. “Flynn didn’t do this, did he?”
“God no.” I laugh. “He’d have given me hell. Easier to have someone else do it.”
This time Mike hums.
I tap the steering wheel, feeling guilty for not giving my brother’s shop the work. “Less arguing and questions, y’know?”
Another nod.
“Anyway, what are you going to do about the girl you’re dating?”
“Just keep trying.” He shrugs. “What else is there to do?”
