Page 14 of Beauty and the Grease
It doesn’t matter if he was ever mine. Our lives are only intersecting today, the strangest of days, and never again. Except for when he picks up his car. And when he brings his kids by the shop.
Dangit. What have I done?
Finally, we’re cleared to go upstairs. The building is deemed safe with no damage, but due to debris on the grounds we’ve been asked to remain inside the building. I need to see for myself.
“It’s a precaution,” I say to Chase on the way up.
But wow, is it obvious the storm ripped its way through the grounds. A huge limb from a giant old tree stretches across the driveway. No cars appear to be damaged from what I can see from the door, and my truck is pristine beneath the covered entrance. Beyond the parking lot, a whole tree is overturned with its roots splayed out above the dirt. Smaller branches, leaves, and a few stray patio chairs litter the driveway and grass.
I finally have a measly bar of cell service. New text messages populate from the past hour. I step aside to read them.
Kara:You’re not still driving are you? Weather radar is BAD where you’re going!
Kara:We closed the garage and locked up. Went to the cellar—so creepy!
Kara:Do you think James is too old for me? He’s twenty-five and I’m twenty-two. That’s three whole years!
James is a mechanic at the shop. He’s a looker. Deep brown eyes and a bad boy attitude, but baby-faced enough to make me feel like a matriarch in his presence. Shocking it took this long for Kara to ask about him.
Kara:Storm over. REPORT BACK!
I fire off a quick text: I’m safe at the retreat center.
Kara:Can I clock out early? No damage here but nobody is downtown.
I text Annabelle and ask how things are. She confirms no damage, and has already closed the salon for the day.
“Is the shop okay?” Chase asks.
“Sounds like it. I should get back and check, though.”
“There’s a lot of downed trees out there. You’ll need to wait until they clear the area.”
But what if—
My eyes fall shut.What if what if what if… I can’t let go of the what ifs. I’m responsible for my shop. If I’m not there, what will happen?
Another text comes in.
Annabelle:I know you’re worried. No damage, I checked. Probably best to close early. Send the staff home. Just my two cents!
She’s right. I know she’s right. I send a few more texts and make the decision. Closing early with tow truck services available using our on-call rotation.
A broad, older man with ruddy, tanned skin approaches and I flinch, tucking my phone away like a student caught scrolling in class. (If cell phones had existed when I was in high school, mine definitely would have been confiscated.) The man smells like cigars and old money. His eyes are on Chase, not me. He was downstairs with Linda the CFO looking generally curmudgeonly and at times, downright hostile. Like if he’d been cleared to carry a short club as a weapon, he would.
“Is this your guest for the weekend?” the man grumbles at Chase.
Chase clears his throat. “Well, sir—”
“Yes,” I answer for him. “I’m here…for the weekend.” I shoot Chase a look to go with it.
The man makes a grunting sound, followed by a curt nod.
“He’s fun,” I say to Chase as the man wanders off to terrorize another village.
Chase looks a bit green in the face. “That’s Cliff. He makes me want to jump off one.”
No doubt. “Not to be ageist, but how old is he? Oh wait, it’s ageist to ask. I learned that on a podcast. Ironically, the younger generation doesn’t seem to care about ageism and makes fun of theaged,” I point between myself and Chase, “all the time. At least Kara at the office does.”
