Mustang Sassy (6 page)

“O-kay,” Brandon said slowly. “But—”

“Don’t worry,” Jordan interrupted. “I’ve got it under control.”

“You always do.”

Chapter Four

On Monday morning, Sass pulled the car into the parking lot of the Willow Springs Retirement Home in Chesterville, sixty miles southwest of Greenview. She grabbed the book off the passenger seat, got out, and slammed the door behind her. She should be at the shop. Hogan’s was closed Mondays, so it was Sass’s favorite time to be there, when everything was nice and quiet. It was her time to think. But today she needed something else to do, something that would help her forget about the pile of metal that now sat idle at the back of the shop, the pile of metal she’d destroyed.

Her flip-flops thwacked against the linoleum floor as she strode down the hall past the dining room and nurse’s station and turned down into the east wing toward Millie’s room. Millicent Delacroix had taught in the Rockyview School District for more than thirty years and was acquainted with everyone. She’d even taught Sass English Lit in high school, though they had agreed to pretend like those years had never happened. Shortly after her retirement, Millie had suffered a stroke and now she was a resident and social butterfly of Willow Springs Senior’s Lodge.

Sass found Millie in her room with her gray hair pulled back in a careful bun and dressed in a white blouse and lavender skirt. Her pearls were around the outside of the collar of her blouse and her teardrop earrings glittered in the sun. Sitting in her wheelchair with an open book in her lap, Millie raised her eyes when she heard someone at her door.

She sighed and closed the book. “Sass Hogan, you look like a street urchin.”

“Hi, Mill.”

“Come in here and let me see what you haven’t done to yourself now.”

Sass pulled up the visitor’s chair to sit across from her friend, who rolled her chair closer for an inspection.

“You might want to consider combing your hair before a social call.”

Putting a hand to her head, Sass patted her hair down. She had combed it, or at least she thought she had. Either way, her hair didn’t matter. “Mill, I’ve fucked up.”

Millie tsked. “The English language is rich with descriptors. Please choose another word to express yourself.”

Sass groaned again and leaned back in the chair. “Don’t get on my case today. It’s been a rough weekend.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Yes.” Sass glanced out the window. “But I can’t.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“I can’t.” She raised her hands to her face. “It’s just too awful.”

“Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad. I’ll bet it’ll make you feel better to get it off your chest.”

Lowering her hands, Sass shook her head. “Think of the very worst thing I could do and then think of something worse. That’s pretty close to what happened.”

“You killed someone?”

“God, no!”

“See? It can’t be that bad, then.”

“Trust me, it is.” She blew air at the ceiling. “Anyway, I can’t stay long today. I just came to return this.” She waved the book that had been taking up space in her glove box for the last few weeks. In doing so, she noticed something off about the room that Millie shared with Mrs. Henry, another resident at Willow Springs. There was an unnatural starkness to the other half of the room, the bed crisply made without any personal quilts or blankets, the nightstand empty but for a box of Kleenex, the walls bare of any family portraits.

“Where’s Mrs. Henry?” Sass asked slowly.

Millie glanced toward the empty bed and a sad smile spread slowly across her face. She fluttered her hand up and toward the window. “The dear lady’s moved on.”

“Oh,” Sass said, her heart heavy. “I’m sorry.”

Millie shrugged and said, “Thanks.” Then she sighed. “But, she was a snorer. Lovely lady, but phew, sounded like a locomotive. I’m sleeping better already.”

Sass wasn’t fooled. “You’re going to miss her.”

Millie turned her chair slowly around and wheeled to a bookshelf on the other side of the room. She reached out and plucked a box off the shelf. “You know who I miss? Your grandmother.”

She missed her grandmother, too. That’s how she’d first become reacquainted with Millicent Delacroix, when her grandmother shared a room with her. After her grandma died, Sass just kept coming back.

Millie’s watery blue eyes studied her as she turned the chair around and wheeled back to Sass’s side. She stopped the chair and pointed to the book in Sass’s hand. “Did you finish it?”

“Shakespeare? You didn’t seriously think I’d read it, did you?”

“Yes, I did.”

Sass shook her head. “I didn’t understand a single word.”

“Not a word?” Millie tsked and took the book from her. With a crooked finger she ran it down the page and then read, “Okay, let’s see, ‘dead’…you do know that word, don’t you? And here is another I’m sure you know, ‘drunk’? ‘Dog’? ‘Fool’?”

Sass rolled her eyes. “Of course I know those words.”

“Oh,” Millie continued, “how about, ‘asses’? I think that’s a word you young folk use all the time.”

“It doesn’t say ‘asses,’” Sass said as she leaned closer to get a look at the book.

“Sure it does, right there.” Millie pointed.

“They’re probably referring to donkeys.”

“Actually, Shakespeare often used double entendre. Here the word means donkey and the rump, the derriere, the behind…”

“Okay, okay,” Sass conceded. “Sheesh, I was being figurative, for God’s sake.”

Millie closed the book and beamed at Sass. “Now you’re speaking my language. Here.” She passed the book back to Sass and underneath it was a videocassette.

“What’s this?”

“A movie. You still have a VCR, don’t you?”

Sass groaned. “Unfortunately, yes. But watching the thing acted out isn’t going to help. I’m still not going to understand it. Mill, you’re not my English teacher anymore. You have to give up on this obsession. I will never like Shakespeare.”

“This is a modern film. It’s not in Shakespearean language.”

Sass rolled her eyes again and glanced at the title,
Ten Things I Hate About You.

“Have you seen it?”

“No.”

“Good. I think you’ll like it. I prefer the original but then I’m old.”

“You’re not old,” Sass said as she leaned over to kiss Millie on the cheek. “You’re ancient.”

Millie pinched her cheek, hard, but her sparkling eyes told her she enjoyed their banter as much as she did.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

Sass shook her head. “Another day.”

…

By the time Sass got back to Greenview, she found she couldn’t avoid the shop any longer. She had to do something about the wreck she’d created and better to do that today while the shop was closed than tomorrow in front of everyone else. So, she parked at the back, changed into her coveralls and boots. After grabbing the work order Carlos had started, she went into the bay where the Mustang was sitting and stared in awe at her handiwork.

Holy hell. It was bad. If she hadn’t have done it herself, she would have thought whoever inflicted this kind of damage must have been hopped up on drugs. Or crazy.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she figured the only thing to do was to get busy rectifying the situation. As expected, there were a bunch of things Carlos had missed and she began adding to the list of parts as she circled the car.

When that was done, she got started on cleaning the ’57 Chevy Pro Streeter shell that sat in the back junkyard. Buck had been asking her to clean it for ages, but all her spare time had been spent on the ’Vette. She wanted to surprise Buck with the Chevy when he got back from his trip. Even though it was hot, filthy work sanding away the dirt and grime of decades, it was exactly what she needed to take her mind off not only the Mustang, but its too-handsome owner with the muscled arms and talented lips.

By the time she made it home, she was hot, dirty, and starving. She rectified the first two with a long shower, but the black hole in the fridge didn’t offer much to satisfy her hunger. She considered ordering Chinese and staying home and reading her new
Hot Rod
magazine, but that option made her feel twitchy. Tapping her fingers against the counter, Sass considered her choices but her mind continued to stray back to a twisted wreck of a car and a pair of sky-blue eyes.

She needed to get out of the house, preferably with someone who could distract her from her problems. She grabbed the phone and dialed her friend Libby.

“Sass?”

“Hey, Lib. What’re you doing tonight?”

“Me? Nothing. Why? Do you want to come over? We could watch a movie or something.”

Sass thought about the video Millie had given her, but decided against it. She wasn’t in the mood. “I was thinking more along the lines of a beer and a game of pool at the Pit.”

“The Pit?” Libby’s voice jumped an octave. “Yeah, I s’pose that’d be okay. I’m not a very good pool player.”

“I know.” Sass sighed. Not for the first time, she wondered at her friendship with Libby. They were so different. Libby liked fashion, cooking, and romance novels. Sass liked…cars. But Libby’s mom had taken care of Sass after her mom died and the two of them had been inseparable, though they fought almost as much as they got along.

“I just feel like getting out of the house because…” Sass paused. Damn. She’d almost told Libby about Carlos. Thank God she’d stopped herself in time. No one could know. Not even Libby.

“Because?”

“I’m starving, and there’s nothing but canned beans and condiments here.”

“You sure you don’t want to come here? I can make you something.”

No. The Pit would be perfect. Carlos would be there and she could pretend like there was nothing going on between the two of them. “Nah. I’m in the mood for a steak sandwich.”

“Okay, then. Give me an hour and I’ll—”

“Libby, I’ll be by your house to pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Libby squeaked. “I can’t be—”

“Lib, I’m starving and it’s the Pit we’re talking about. Just put some clothes on and I’ll be there in fifteen.”

…

With a beer in front of him and the crooning of Alan Jackson in the background, Jordan pretended to watch the Patriots and Jets game on the big screen. But he was really watching the crowd of locals in the Snake Pit. For a Monday night, the place seemed pretty busy. Probably because there was nothing else to do in this one-horse town. He scratched the back of his neck and took a long drink from his beer bottle. His gaze swept the room as he searched for…

Damn. She was just some crazy slip of a girl. Gorgeous, lithe,
sassy
, but undoubtedly the strangest woman he’d ever met. He had to stop thinking about her. Jordan’s roving gaze stopped when it set on a guy with a dark ponytail, a goatee, and tattoos running up and down his strong forearms. Those forearms just happened to be wrapped around a buxom brunette whose neck he nuzzled.

Rodriguez. He was the reason Jordan had come to Greenview in the first place, and Jordan hoped he might be the answer to his problems. The first time he’d seen him was in June at the Classic Muscle Car Show in Denver. When he read the information in the program on Rodriguez’s Mustang and discovered his place of employment, an idea formed. Which brought him to this point, drinking beer in this backwoods tavern with country music blaring and all his carefully laid plans gone straight out the window, but possibly replaced by something even better.

It was time to improvise. With beer in hand, Jordan ambled over to the pool tables in the far corner of the bar and put his quarters on the edge, claiming the next game. The man had finally let go of his squeeze and was walking around the table, about to take his next shot, when his eyes met Jordan’s.

“Hey, it’s Mr. Mustang.” He grinned. “What brings you to the Pit? Looking for the asshole that smashed your wheels?”

“Yeah. That and a beer.”

Rodriguez chalked his cue, bent down, lined up his shot, and sank the three ball in the corner pocket, setting himself up for the five in the other corner. He made that shot and then tried to bank the six into the side but missed. The brunette came up and draped her arms around him from behind but her eyes were assessing Jordan while a slow smile formed on her pouty lips.

“Who’s your friend?” she purred into his ear, loud enough for Jordan to hear.

“This is the dude I was telling you about, remember? It’s Jordan, right?”

“Yeah. And you’re Rodriguez?”

“Carlos. And this is Tori.”

Jordan shook her hand, noting the way her long fingernails scraped against the inside of his wrist as if trying to convey some unspoken message. He shivered.

“You want to join us?”

“Why not.”

Jordan watched as Carlos cleaned up against the kid he was playing—who looked like he’d just started shaving yesterday. Then he put in his change and racked the balls. While Carlos broke, Tori sidled up to him and said, “So, how long you in town for?”

“Until my car is done.”

“Is that so? What are you going to do while you’re here?”

Jordan kept his eyes focused on the game. “Rest, relax. This was supposed to be my vacation.”

“Really? You came
here
for a vacation?” She laughed.

Jordan’s smile faltered. Was he that transparent? “I was on my way to Lincoln, Nebraska. Classic car show. Now I’m stuck here.”

“Hmm.” She took a step closer. “That’s too bad.” Her tone told him she thought it was anything but ‘too bad.’

“I’m an expert on rest and relaxation. You want me to show you around, I’d be happy to.”

“Carlos probably wouldn’t appreciate that too much,” Jordan said, watching the man sink a ball in the side pocket.

She glanced back at Carlos who was totally focused on his next shot, and whispered, “Oh. We’re not exclusive. We hang out when it’s convenient.”

“Good to know.” Jordan forced a smile and said some equivalent to “thanks but no thanks.”

Carlos missed his next shot—thank God—giving Jordan the opportunity to walk away from Tori. He’d met women like her before, attractive and sexually forward. They didn’t yank his chain. Now a woman with an adorably crooked tooth and flashing hazel eyes, on the other hand…Jordan shook his head.