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FLAT ON MY BACK UNDER the 1985 Trans Am, I wheeled the creeper closer to the exhaust manifold. Fumbling around blindly for my wrench, I huffed out when I couldn’t locate it on the ground. I could have sworn I had just set it down.
“Where the hell is it...?” I murmured under my breath. I didn’t want to have to wheel myself out and try to find it. It was hard enough to get in and out from under the car for a girl my size.
Sighing, I gave up and wheeled out, and then stood up and stretched my back and neck. I really needed to convince Dad to get the shop another lift. It would be so much easier to work on these cars with one, but they were all being used at the moment. Trans Ams were very low to the ground as it was. Shaking my head when I spotted the wrench on the ground near my pink, beat-up creeper, I reached down and snatched it up, annoyed.
The hood was popped so I decided I’d go back to the manifold later. The air filter on this thing needed replaced; I would do that while I was standing here. I didn’t understand why someone would buy this old thing and then not want to restore it themselves. I wasn’t even sure whose car this was, anyway. Probably some wealthy collector. It was the type of job we took when we didn’t have actual race cars to work on.
As I was removing the bolts, I heard, “Char, you have a phone call!” over the loudspeaker. Of course, this caused me to startle, and I whacked my head on the hood.
“Dammit!” I yelled, rubbing the top of my head.
I stalked to the messy front office and glared at our new receptionist, Allie. She smiled at me and said, “Line two.”
I looked down at the two-line phone, its beige color mostly black now with grease smudges. I clicked the blinking button and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Guess what I have in the email box right this minute?” came Colton’s excited voice.
“I don’t know,” I replied, sounding bored. “Your STD test results? Please tell me they were negative for herpes.”
He snorted. “No.”
“What? It’s positive?”
“No, bitch, not that. An invitation to the Dalton Enterprise’s pre-season gala at the Dalton Mansion!”
My stomach turned over. Dalton Enterprises was the name in racing, and while we had worked on cars for them before, our little mechanic’s shop had never received an invite to their big yearly party. Colton, my best friend, who was more like my brother, ran the administrative side of our shop. He was also a very talented driver and had won quite a few races. He just didn’t like getting his hands dirty.
“Wow,” I breathed. “When is it?”
“This Saturday night.”
Nothing like waiting ’til the last minute, I thought. I also thought it odd we’d gotten an invite at all. But, the company’s patriarch, Jason Dalton, had just passed away, so maybe that had something to do with it. Regardless, I was definitely game.
“Sweet, who’s invited?”
“It’s addressed to Dad and his employees.”
“Nice.” Then I thought about something. “You’re not going to bring her as your plus-one, are you?”
Colton made a scoffing noise. “No, not speaking to her.”
“For now,” I said under my breath.
“I heard that. Now, when you get off work, go out and get yourself a dress. After you shower, of course.”
I laughed. “Bye, Colt.”
He hung up and I went back to work on the car.
THE REPAIRS TOOK MUCH longer than I had anticipated, and after stripping out of my coveralls and scrubbing my hands, I went into the office to grab my purse. As I was flying out the door, the phone rang.
Allie had long since left, so with a sigh, I picked it up and hit the button. “Owen and Sons, can I help you?”
“Is Owen in?” a female voice asked.
I smiled. “No, he’s gone for the day. May I take a message?”
“No, thank you. I’ll call back later.”
I grinned as I hung up. My dad and his women. It was too bad he’d never had any sons. He’d inherited the shop from his father, Owen Cruise, Sr., who’d opened it when my dad and uncle were teens. It was all our family had ever known.
As I drove home, I again considered changing careers. I mean, I’d always wanted to work on cars and had been happy when Dad trained me when I was just a young teen. But it wasn’t very ladylike, and sometimes I got called a dyke and other rude things. Especially here in Texas, sometimes people here were asswipes with no filter. Not that I wasn’t used to it, it just got old and made me roll my eyes.
Once I reached my little condo on the northeast side of Austin, I slogged through the door, exhausted, and showered. As excited as I was about the upcoming party this weekend, I was in no mood to go out and shop.
After ordering a pizza, I went online pulled up Google, and typed in party dresses. With my dark auburn hair and medium complexion, I usually looked pretty good in dark-green, so I searched for dresses in that color when a popular clothing company’s website appeared. I was usually leery of ordering clothes online, especially because some of the plus-size stuff varied so much, but I just didn’t have the time or energy to go out and find one.
Spotting a gorgeous emerald-green number, I was happy to see it wasn’t too expensive and they had it in my size. It looked beautiful on the model wearing it on the site, so I added it to my cart and paid an extra twenty bucks to have it arrive by Friday.
Well, that was easy, I thought, chuckling.
Deciding to surf the Internet until my pizza arrived, I began to wonder if my city had gotten onboard with the whole grocery delivery thing. I’d heard of bigger cities offering this service from the local grocery stores, but this was Texas. With a shrug, I said, “What the hell,” out loud, and typed in grocery delivery.
The first three results were for the top grocery store chains in my area with information about delivery. “Yes!” I whispered to no one. As I was about to click on the first one, a fourth search result caught my attention:
Curvy Lips and Sexy Lips website offers information on grocery delivery to make your healthy food shopping easier...
Intrigued, I clicked on the link. A colorful website greeted me with a large banner which read: TRY FREE FOR THIRTY DAYS. It promised that if I wasn’t satisfied with the results of the diet plan, I wouldn’t be out any money.
Diet plan? Hmm. I could use a diet plan. Someone or something to tell me what to eat when, because Lord knew I was horrible at cooking and chose to eat out most of the time. As I looked around the site, it had tons of info on exercise routines, gyms, and health food stores in my area, and, of course, customized diet plans. I decided to sign up and see what they could offer me.
When the doorbell rang, I went to answer it. I knew I’d better enjoy the pizza, as I doubt that would be on the website’s diet plan.