Underground Mechanic

“Can you ever be on time?” Nash spits out a chewed sunflower seed at my stained, ratted work boots and I arch a brow at him, sipping my coffee leisurely.

“I wasn’t aware I had an early schedule,” I comment with a nonchalant shrug, watching as Max fights a smirk over Nash’s shoulder, shaking his head as he keeps silent.

“It’s three,” Nash grunts with a sour expression, “a little late to be productive- you are aware we currently have a lot full of work?”

“I have a car in my booth, I have a line of pick-ups from detailing- and my bay? Does that look empty to you?” I ask pursing my lips daring him. Jack, good buddy ol pal, you’re one mean wake up call. Nash crumples the bag of sunflower seeds as he stands, launching his rolling stool against a raised lift.

“The booth? What’s the deal with that? Is it done? It didn’t look like it. And your bay is double stacked. Does that look good to you? Because it says productivity is behind- again,” Nash nags me, making me drop my shades over my eyes in an attempt to combat the friendly hangover.

“How about you get off my ass and let me wake up; I pushed out all of the projects I could,” I pause, sipping my coffee to bite my tongue briefly. “If you’re worried about my orders- look at my forms, you’ll see all of the productivity you need.” Nash’s features twist as he steps forward, his face growing a purple color in frustration.

“You need to work during the day not night time,” he growls inching forward making me raise my hand.

“Get in my face and I’ll lay your ass flat, I don’t have the restraint to behave right now. Do us all a favor and go back to hiding in the office- some of us have actual work to be done,” I give a bitchy smile and a too-da-loo finger wave as I turn towards our parts drop off, seeing the needed stack for the cars currently filling my bay.

Please be the right junk. I’d hate to have to drive to the parts store to fix their bad drop. “Those cars need to be done today,” Nash threatens as his sunflower seeds crackle in the plastic as he throws a handful back, biting so hard it sounds like he cracked a tooth.

“Like I’ve ever been late with orders,” I called, not sparing him a glance. I swear he’s worse than my mother. The door between the front of the shop and the bays clangs open, its bell a shrill sound that has become the bane of my existence.

“You know,” Max calls once Nash has run off with his tail tucked between his legs. “I think the entertainment has become my favorite part of the shop- just wish it lined up with lunch,” he laughs, making Jonas release his clown-like cackle.

“I’d say they’re a married couple- but they just skipped to divorced,” Jonas jokes with Max earning laughter from his buddy.

“Ha-ha, muck it up,” I hide my smile behind my mug as I stuff my hand down into my pocket to inspect the shop. No debris left over from last night’s project, good. “Be happy that bridge has burned, no one needs that headache.” Least of all me. Ever since Nash and I opened the shop five years ago, things between us have soured and not gracefully either.

“Late night?” Jonas questions as he cleans his hands of some foul smelling trans-fluid. The lack of gloves was a big mistake on your part. That is a stench that’ll last for days, especially with his cracked wrinkled skin.

“Always is, someone has to keep you slackers looking good,” I’m met with a series of snorts and a guaffing laugh.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that hon, inflate that ego of yers,” Jonas chuckles winking at me. “I know you like having it stroked.” His southern drawl out of place in the city makes me shake my head at him.

“Try it and you’ll be scalped,” I threaten him, making Max laugh, doubling over as if I’ve kicked his kidney. The shop phone rings an obnoxious sound to my pounding hangover. I miss sleeping in a house- I don’t get pneumatic drill wake up calls.

“Tinker- line one!” Nash calls over the com system making me groan inwardly. I haven’t even finished my cup of coffee. I grab the phone at the parts station while holding back a growl of annoyance.

“What can I do for ya?”

“Tinker! Good hearing from ya- got your message, also, do you have room for another client? I have one breathing down my neck looking to get in with you,” Devin runs on making me regret picking up the call in the first place.

“You know the rules Devin- besides I’m packed, my roster keeps me busy enough. What are you trying to do, kill me?” I joke lightly with him.

“Ahh come on, Tink, this client has been breathing down my neck trying to get an in with you. Do me a favor will you? Meet with him, please- that’s all he wants,” Devin tries to persuade me, making me roll my eyes.

“No, I don’t have any open slots, I can give him a referral if he’d like?” I know how this sort of thing works, it’s a no from me.

“Tinker- please! Just a meeting, I can be there- he just needs you to hear him out. He’ll pay top dollar- better than I do.” I scoff at that.

“Devin, I have to chase you for your check, the reason you pay upfront now,” I grunt while listening as he chuckles bemused. “Listen, your car is ready for pick up, come and get it- don’t bring your buddy either,” I threaten him before hanging up, not keen on listening to more of his begging. He’s a pain, but his checks never bounce.

“Another one of your booty calls?” Nash calls through the window making me look at him and blow a kiss.

“Wouldn’t you want to know?” I close my side of the partition, ending our conversation as I crack into the boxes of delivered parts. Look at that- I’m spoiled with all the right parts. Moments like this make me love my parts guy, he always hooks me up with the right stuff. Only his delivery boy likes to switch things up from time to time.

“Does he still think you’re sleeping around?” Max asks amused as he chugs his watermelon red bull.

“I don’t know- nor do I care,” I wave a hand before rubbing my forehead in exhaustion. Why can’t he just sell his portion of the shop back to me? Part of me thinks it’s him still in love with me. Then I remember how he cheated and that’s out the window. Our relationship has since passed any form of re-kindling. I’d be just as happy to never see him again. But he’s determined to be the bain of my current existence.

“You ever going to tell him?” I give Max a droll look watching as he throws his hands up with a cheeky smile.

“Why should I? We aren’t together, he didn’t listen then, he won’t listen now.” Besides I don’t need him anymore up my ass than he already is. Nash believes he’s my father and needs to crowd over me and my every move.

“You drive that man up the wall,” Jonas laughs, shaking his head, making me shrug as I pull out the parts for the car on the floor of my bay.

“He drives me through hell and back, it balances out,” I argue back before I set out all I need for my spark plug and belt changes. Easy money right here.

“Are we out of Mercon fluid? I can’t find it on the shelf,” Jonas questions coming from the fluid storage room.

“No, I left it out last night, I had to top off one of my gigs, I’ll fetch it for ya,” I grunt, before I drain my coffee and toss back a handful of trail-mix as my breakfast. “Oh, make sure to put it on the order list when you drop your ticket off, we’re getting low,” I commented while heading towards my paint booth. Did Nash ever finish inventory Monday?

The thought gets tucked away for my later interaction with my walking cramp, grabbing the fluid and other odd tools I had left for my after hours gig to drag the bag to my bay. Will definitely need the 10mm later. “Always chipmunking all of the good shit in here,” Jonas laughs as I pass off the jug of fluid to him.

“It’s my little cave of peace and quiet- heaven forbid my walking cramp appear in there,” I smirk at that. Such sweet revenge. It was a week long of Nash’s tyraides, constantly on my butt for one thing or another. I had taken to hiding in my paint booth when he barged in, I warned him not to enter when my light was on- he didn’t listen.

He was sprayed down with a fresh and silky smooth coat of Granite, it took him weeks to get the glitter paint out of his hair. That week was the most I’ve enjoyed seeing him. “Not after last time, there’s still overspray over the floor,” Jonas chuckles, whistling as he walks back to his bay.

“I warned him- it’s his own fault,” I laugh with Jonas, Max shakes his head with a smirk of his own, containing his chuckles of amusement. Dropping my load of tools in the top of my tool chest I grab the needed items for my job and set them in my rolling cart, grabbing another handful of trail-mix in the process.

“That would’ve made a great youtube video, you definitely missed your chance for internet fame,” Max chuckles, making me grin at him.

“If only he hadn’t made sure to delete the security camera footage,” I laughed with the pair. It truly was a sight to behold, the gray glitter undertone with black was a spectacular look for Nash. His blond hair was stained an odd color for a few weeks. I think the rest of the paint grew out finally. It was a shame to see the remnants gone, I was hoping that it’d become a tattoo and a permanent reminder to leave my paint booth alone.

Now he just makes sure I’m not inside when he peaks in there. I keep hoping I’ll have another day I can repeat it, maybe even catch it on video. “Chicken,” Max chuckles before he gets back to work on the old beater that never stays running for more than a month or two between visits. But Mrs. Cherney loves that old sedan. The multicolored Toyota Camry once belonged to her late husband.

And has gone through as many attempts of revival as possible, from bubblegum and zip ties to replacement parts. I’m afraid we’ve hit the motor replacement or rebuild. At this rate, it’d be cheaper to just invest in a new car. We all know she never will. Staring at the dirty engine compartment I talk myself into work and get into the easy job. Cranking out the simple work and making orders until the clock rings for Jonas and Max.

When the real fun begins. My exotic arts and crafts jobs, the big earners start to roll through the doors. Most importantly Nash is elsewhere and not breathing down my neck or humping my leg. “See ya later boss woman!” Jonas calls, more than happy to pause his project half-way. Max on the other hand spends an extra half-hour patching Mrs. Cherney’s car together.

“I hope she’s ready for an engine, I’m not sure this fix will last her long,” Max sighs with an amused smile.

“You know she’ll get it done- that car is gonna be in your nightmares before it stops coming in.” If you’re lucky. Mrs. Cherney does have a young daughter who is just as sentimental.