Page 2 of Echoes of Nevermore
“Yeah, but there’s air conditioning and a couch inside. That’s where the ladies normally sit.”
A small, annoyed laugh bubbles out of me. “Well, I guess I’m not a lady then. I prefer it here, but thank you.” I try to be as polite as I can, but I have to push the last bit out through a forced smile.
“Well, if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.” My tone is unintentionally clipped. Maybe I should apologize, but I don’t. He holds my gaze for a moment and then shrugs, tugging the oil drain cart under my vehicle.
Finally! He dropped it and got the hint. Now I can get back to my book. I unlock my phone, swiping my finger to the left a couple of times to find the last part I remember reading before I passed out, and dive back into the story.
“We have water inside, ma’am.” He calls over to me, and I groan. There are a lot of things that will aggravate a person, but continuously coming in between someone and a good book will straight piss somebody off! This man either has the most chivalrous soul I’ve ever met, or he has an issue with me watching him work on my car. Maybe both. Neither could be true. I don’t know. But one thing is for certain: if he doesn’t leave me alone, it’s going to become pretty apparent why I’m the sitting outside type, and not inside where the other ladies typically are.
A deep laugh beside me stops whatever insult is about to leave my mouth. My shoulders tense, and I turn my head in the direction of the laughter. In the open doorway stands a man whose eyes are locked on me. His body vibrates with silent laughter as he smirks and shakes his head. Almost every inch of his skin is covered with various masterpieces of ink. Well, the visible parts anyway. His shirt is unbuttoned, exposing his tight muscles. I’m staring at him, but not on purpose. Great! I add another scornful mark against Scott and add gawking at this man to the list of things that didn’t need to happen today.
He lifts an extra-tall travel mug to his mouth and takes a careful sip. “Tea, leave the woman alone before she slashes your tires because you can’t give up your southern hospitality.”
My head jerks back, “What? I’m not going to slash his tires.”
“Sure, you think that now. But if he keeps bothering you, you might. He’s only getting started. Trust me. Tea can’t help himself. When a woman is around, he is on his best behavior. Don’t let him fool you, though. He’s a sicko, just like the rest of us dogs. Ain’t that right, Tea?”
Tea turns his head in our direction when his name is spoken.
“You’re just a dog looking to bury a bone, huh?” The man says to him with a hint of laughter in his words.
Tea awkwardly smiles and nods. “Uh huh. Sure.” He goes back to working on my car, grabbing a wrench out of his pocket.
The man turns his attention back to me, “A person can’t trust anyone. Sometimes, not even themselves. So, yeah, I wouldn’t blame you if you slashed his tires.”
What? My eyes shift between them. This is strange, and that’s a big statement coming from someone like me. I like the strange and unusual things in the world. Not that any of that matters right now. This man is wrong. I wouldn’t slash his buddy’s tires for something as insignificant as being overly polite. Although I couldn’t say they’d be the first set of tires I had sunk a blade into in my lifetime if I did do it. But I’m not going to. “That still doesn’t warrant slashing the guy’s tires. Besides, I don’t even know what Tea drives. How would I know that? I wouldn’t. End. Of. Story.”
Tea glares at the man for a second and huffs. “I didn’t mean any harm, ma’am.”
“It’s ok. You were being polite,” I correct him, getting to my feet, and returning my phone to my pocket. Clearly, reading isn’t happening today, at least not here.
“Bullshit. He was being a pushy gentleman.”
“Is that even a thing?” I eye him and he nods, sitting on the steps beside me.
“It is around here. We have all kinds, don’t we, Tea?” he calls a bit louder.
“Yeah. Whatever you say, Nevermore. You’re the Prez.”
My eyes shift between the two of them. Nevermore, Prez? As in president? What is he the president of, and why does Tea sound like the raven plucked right out of an Edgar Allen Poe book? I have so many questions, but no right at all to ask any of them. I’m here to get my oil changed and nothing more.
“Exactly,” the man beside me agrees, taking another drink from his travel mug. “So, which is it?”
“Huh?” I ask him when I realize he’s talking to me, and not Tea. “Which is what?”
“Are you sitting out here because you don’t trust Tea over there with your ride, or do you really like being out here where everyone is?”
I think about his question. I know the answer, but I’m not sure if I want him to. Why is the fact that I’m sitting outside even being brought into conversation, not once, but twice? “Does it really matter?”
“Nah. I’m curious, though. Humor me?”
“The only thing I can think of is that the water in there must be some of the best-tasting water. That, or the couch is made of butter or something.” I blurt out exactly what I’m thinking.
He chuckles, “Why’s that?”
“Because it would have to be. Otherwise, y’all wouldn’t cause this much of a fuss over someone who prefers to sit outside and wait while their oil is being changed. Would you?”
