Page 33 of Slots & Sticks
“No way,” Dot counters. “Of course he does. All guys know how to change a tire.”
A second hit, right to my soul. If Viktor said that, I could roll my eyes and shake it off, but this is basic stuff. Ishouldbe able to do this. I skip another thirty seconds forward and pray that this guy will get to the damn point.
“I think you are mistaken. I don’t hear the sound of lug nuts turning. There is no grunting or swearing. Therefore, I do not think he has even started the job.”
The more Mira talks, the more she reminds me of Viktor. What a pain in the butt. Also, did I miss something? The guy on YouTube talked for fifteen minutes about how he was going to break it down, and then he got that tire off in fifteen seconds flat. Fucker. He didn’t have to make it lookthateasy.
“I’ll check on him,” says Dot. The passenger door clicks open. Louder than before, she calls, “Cam, are you okay out there?”
“Yeah, but I think one of the bolts is stripped or something?” This isn’t a total lie. After my abject failure to remove the hardware, it’s a real possibility.
Mira speaks louder, too, though her voice modulation doesn’t change. “Bring me to him. I can talk him through it.”
Dot lowers her voice again. “Come on, Mira. He might not like having you talk him through it. I’ll go out alone first.”
Through the window, I see Dot glance toward the door pocket where Mira sits. Her fingers hover above the puck like she’s about to touch it, then thinks better of it. The blue light pulses, slow and patient—waiting for orders.
Dot sighs. “You don’t always have to fix everything,” she whispers, mostly to herself.
Her eyes keep flicking to mine, like she’s asking a question she doesn’t want me to answer.
I want to tell her it’s okay to sit still, to let me sweat this out.
But maybe that’s not what she’s afraid of.
Maybe she’s scared I’ll mess this up—and she won’t know how to fix it either.
Dot stalls, torn between convenience and dignity. “I’ll go first,” she tells the puck again, gentler. “If he needs you, I’ll come get you.”
The light flickers once in what looks suspiciously like disapproval.
“It would be more expedient to take me.”
“Yeah, but you can be kind of… you know. Abrasive. At times. Not on purpose!”
“I am direct and to the point, which is more than I can say for the host of the video Camden is currently watching.”
Busted. My pride is already wounded, and it’s creepy as hell that Mira knows what I’m doing on my phone, but she’s right about one thing: we’re on a deadline here. Skinbad is counting on us, and time is ticking away. I’d rather get Dot where she needs to go than risk anything happening to the gnarly little dog she’s got her heart set on. Plus, it’s hot out here without AC, and my shirt is already clinging to my back. Nobody’s having fun, me least of all.
I lean on the fender for a second, catching my breath. The air tastes like burnt rubber and road heat. Inside the SUV, Dot’s silhouette moves—she’s either wiggling in her seat or arguing with Mira again. Probably both. I picture her biting her lip, watching me through the windshield, wondering if I’m about to give up.
No chance. Not when she’s looking.
A bead of sweat slides down my neck. I wipe it away, then glance at her reflection in the glass. She’s holding that puck close to her chest, head tilted, listening like it’s a living thing. It hits me—she trusts a machine more than most people. I want to change that, even if all I can do right now is get this damn tire off and keep us moving.
“Okay,” I tell the car, tightening my grip on the wrench. “Let’s try that again.”
I lower my phone. “Your virtual assistant might be right. I’m struggling here.”
Mira is adamant. “Bring me to him. I can help.”
Dot’s footsteps pad around the car until she appears above me. “Are you sure you want to do this? We can call a local garage or the AAA or something.”
I lift one hand to shade my eyes. “Is there someplace close by?”
Mira answers for her. “The closest mechanic is half an hour away. I believe that with my assistance, we can change out the tire faster than it would take someone to arrive and do the work themselves.”
At least the robot has alittlefaith in me. “Cool. Let’s try it.” I grab my tire iron and get back to work.
