After a ridiculous afternoon making pots – I’ll admit that ceramics turned out not to be my strength – Alden managed to get Cora her first introduction to a buyer. She’s been flapping ever since, trying to get samples ready to take to the big meeting. Alden’s been doing what he can to keep her calm and get her prepared, but the excitement has been contagious.
My agent has secured a shoot for a major magazine for me, so I’ve been busy working out. I’m in good shape, but I have three weeks to polish myself so that the images make the biggest impact they can. The exposure is going to be awesome, and I want to make the most of it.
I’m in the gym after a particularly grueling weights session when Cora calls.
“Danny.” She doesn’t say hello, and her voice sounds breathless as though she’s been running or she’s panicking about something. Probably something to do with the department store buyer, I think. “Are you around? My car’s broken down, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Where are you?”
Cora describes her location, and it’s only around fifteen minutes from the gym.
“Send me your exact location, and I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I don’t wait for her message but instead head to my locker, grab my bag, and stride to the car. When I’m ready to go, I find her message, add the location to the GPS, and set off. On the way, I call my friend Damien who has a repair shop about an hour outside of town.
We met when I was doing a shoot for a fashion magazine that was looking to showcase a new designer whose casual collection resembled a mechanic’s overalls. The location scout found this cool, old-school repair shop, and I spent two days there among the mechanics, who continued to do their jobs around me.
Damien’s a big bear of a guy with a thick beard, and arms that look thick enough to tear out trees by the roots. He was the one who was most interested in the modeling process and asked the most questions. If I need something fixed on my car, he’s the one I trust to get it done. I don’t mind driving the distance because I know him and the other mechanics at Deep Repairs, and I’m confident they will do a good job and not rip me off.
When I get to Cora’s vehicle, she’s managed to pull it over and out of the stream of traffic.
When she sees me, her expression is panicked. “Thank you so much for coming. I didn’t know what to do. Mom told me to get roadside assistance, but money’s been tight, and I just haven’t gotten around to it.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say, touching Cora’s upper arm to give her some reassurance. “I’m not the best when it comes to cars, but I’m going to call a friend of mine and see what we can figure out.”
“Okay.” Her lids drop slowly over the crystalline blue of her eyes, her relief obvious.
“Pop the hood….do you know how?”
“Sure.”
Cora gets back into the car, searching for the lever to unlock the hood. Her car is way older than anything I’ve ever driven, and it doesn’t surprise me that it’s been giving her problems. Dad always told me that cars over seven years old are money pits. My current car is only six months old and drives like a dream. This old Nissan has seen better days.
“Is it turning over?”
Cora turns the key in the ignition, and it makes a juddering sound, then nothing. “That doesn’t sound good,” I say, dipping my head to take a closer look. There are no obvious issues. The radiator’s intact, and there’s no oil leaking as far as I can see. Pulling out my phone, I bring up Damien’s number.
“D,” he says in greeting.
“D,” I answer, and we both dissolve into childish laughter.
“What can I do for you?”
“I have a car that’s broken down. It makes a choking noise when I turn the ignition. I can’t see anything else going on.”
“Your car?” he asks, surprised. Since I got the new one, it hasn’t needed any servicing or repairs, so I haven’t traveled his way in a while.
“No…it’s my…” I pause for a moment, wondering how to describe Cora. My father’s fiancée’s daughter is long. Stepsister isn’t accurate yet. A friend isn’t quite true. Ugh. Why do things have to be so complicated? I opt for the inaccurate “Stepsister” because somehow, a friend doesn’t feel like enough.
“I didn’t know you had one of those,” Damien says. “Is she hot?”
“Why is that the first place that men go to?” I laugh, glad Cora’s out of earshot.
“Because we all have filthy minds,” he says with a smile in his voice. I’m certain he has a filthy mind. He’s in a relationship with a woman he shares with his five best friends. When he told me their arrangement, I choked; I was so shocked. None of the guys at Deep Repairs seem like the type who’d be willing to share a woman.