Huge Working Hero (Hard Working Hero 3)

“Really?” he asks, his voice picking up its pitch.

“You sound surprised?”

“That's only because, and don't take this the wrong way, but your dad doesn't seem to be as well informed.”

“My dad is your typical weekend car guy. I mean, yes, he owns a dealership for luxury cars and a garage that services race cars, but he doesn't pay attention. It's in one ear and out the other. Why do you think he has you at our house working on this?”

“Because I'm awesome.”

I giggle and roll my eyes. “That, and because the only things he's really confident with are changing his oil and rotating his tires. The last time he tried to change his own brakes I had to remind him to bleed the lines.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out when he thought the smoke was an exhaust leak.”

“It's easy to spot a coolant leak, just smell the air. Figuring out why can be a bit more difficult, but white smoke is usually a giveaway.”

“And you learned that from just watching?”

“That and the fact I spent most of my afternoons after school hanging out at the shop as they worked on the race cars. Did you get to meet John Woods?”

“Yeah, he's the really old guy, right? The guy that sounds like he's been smoking three packs of cigarettes a day for thirty years?”

I nod. “He's been working in the shop for years, long before my father took over.”

Brand pulls up to the parts store on Letty Lane, parking right out front. “I'll be right back. It should only take a second.” He climbs out of the car and I watch him as he hops up on the sidewalk and goes inside.

I relax back in the seat, resting my elbow on the trim of the door and laying my head in my palm. It's a beautiful day out, despite the temperature being close to ninety. There's a light breeze. I can see the treetops swaying side to side, and the Crape Myrtle flowers rustling against the branches.

I love the color of the flowers. They remind me of cranberries with their reddish pink hue. I remember being a kid and walking downtown with my mother once to go to the Cinelux Delta Cinema. I would always pluck a flower free and put it behind my ear, just like a movie star.

The neon lights were magnificent to see as a child, so bold and bright. The word Delta was lit up in hot pink. It would make me think of those black and white movies I used to watch with my grandmother.

The Hollywood actresses with their pinup hair, a big flower secured behind an ear, and huge smile. Red lip stick was a must have back then, and even up until the day she died, my grandmother always carried a tube in her purse.

I miss those days. The ones where movie stars made your jaw drop and every man swoon. The days where my grandmother would put on her record player and let me run around in one of her old dresses with lipstick smeared across my face.

The front door on the store opens up and Brand comes out swinging a bag. “All set,” he says, dropping back into the driver's seat. “Now that that's done, how about we find a big open parking lot and have some fun?”

“I thought I said just to the store and back?”

“You did, but since we're out and your dad won't be around, we can take this baby out and I can show you a good time. You ever get to really feel the pull of her engine?”

“I think you're mistaking me for a girl who grew up locked in a tower.”

“Well then, maybe you can show me a thing or two?” Brand pulls the car out onto the road. “I know just the place.”

Brand drives us to the edge of town and pulls into a big empty lot off of Lone Tree Way. The engine rumbles loudly, making my ribs vibrate as he slowly drives the car to the far end of the lot.

“Get ready for this,” he says. Brand puts both hands on the wheel, opening and closing his fingers a few times as if to get a more secure grip. His eyes are set straight out the windshield.

He presses the gas a couple times, making the engine roar like a lion warning a poacher to stay away. The front-end rocks side to side as if the tires are digging into the pavement. Brand leans back, slamming his foot on the gas.

The car jumps forward, and my head gets thrown back. I can't pull my head off the headrest. There's too much force from the power of the engine. He drives straight, his hands clenching the wheel and his arms locked.

“Whoooo!” he yells with a giant smile on his face.