The Life He Never Saw Coming: Closed

[The_gladiator]

The Life He Never Saw Coming
By Glad and Nina

“Mother fucking son of a bitch. I should kill him. Note to self, eat him later.” Eliot Branson, “You’d better fucking call me Eli,” was swearing a blue streak as he reached into the tool box yet again and found that Tyler, his young assistant had once again put the tools away in the wrong place. “I have a system! I need to do my work, if the tools aren’t where I can find them that slows me down.” Not that there was anyone to hear Eli’s constant string of invective, as he had given Tyler the weekend off. It was the 4th of July, even Eli shouldn’t be working this weekend, but since he was a little disenchanted with his country right now, he decided he had better things to do than associate with people that didn’t want him around anyway.



Squinting through his aviators, not that it did him any good Eli finally found the wrench he needed through touch and after tightening the last nut on the wheel lowered the Colorado he was working on and stood up, one hand digging a knuckle into that spot in his lower back that always tensed up. “Why do I need an assistant anyway." he gripeed to himself. "You put one ass hole's radio in upside down and suddenly people start complaining. Ungrateful ass hole should have just figured it out, if I can fix cars without eyes the dumb bastard can learn to read upside down." However, the truth was Eli was losing business due to such mistakes. Taking on a fully sighted assistant was the best thing for the business. yet, the crotchety mechanic didn’t have to like it. He would continue to curse the new cars and their computers, everything with an engine to him was better at least 20 years ago.



Eli had lost his vision in the war. He didn’t talk about it, and most didn’t dare ask. The mission wasn’t declassified, and no one wanted to admit the government had used his kind as scouts and more. Werewolf soldiers, the term sounded ridiculous but was real enough. At least the army taught him to be a mechanic as well. He had taken to that work, and when he lost his sight, he just kept fixing engines, never even occurred to him to stop.



As he made his way through his cluttered garage to the sink to wash his hands and get a drink of water he heard the rumble of a familiar engine. “Fuck you, Larry. I swear to God, fuck you.” He would know that tow truck’s engine anywhere, it’s squeaky axles as it hauled something over the bump at the end of his driveway. Of course, Larry would tow a car here today. He knew that he wouldn’t turn away the business. His business wasn’t exactly struggling, but he wasn’t getting rich either. As more and more of the old trucks brok down completely, some of the locals bought new ones, and though Tyler helped Eli to work on those, his passion was the old ones, and he lived too far out to go into restoring historic cars. Out here they weren’t generally historic trucks, they just were the trucks folks used. However that work was dying a slow death.



Sighing, Eli dried his hands on a towel and headed out to meet the approaching tow truck. “Larry you Rat bastard, what have you brought me?” he called, more than expecting the other man to rattle off what he was hauling.



“1974 Chevrolet C10 Pickup.” Was the terse reply. “Won’t run.”



“I figured that part,” Eli snapped.



“Just saying, I can’t diagnose its problem, you can. Its owner the lady here may know what’s wrong also.”



Hearing that there was another with Larry, a woman no less Eli looked in what he assumed was the right direction extending a hand to shake. “A pleasure to meet you miss. You can call me Eli. Tell me a little bit about what happened with the truck while shit for brains…I mean Larry here puts your truck in bay 2. You’re lucky I’m open today. You know it being the holiday and all. Tell me what it sounded like, smelled like, all of it is useful.” He spoke in a slight drawl, yet rather rapid fire as well, not giving her a chance to even respond to his greeting until he’d said his entire piece.

 

[Nina327]

Lilliana Sterling was starting to daydream about her latest sculpture rather than the road she was driving on. She had been driving all day for the 5th or 6th day in a row. She needed peace. Her mother was getting married again and wanted Lilly there early. So she agreed she would head out, but she was going to take the scenic route. Boy, did she take the scenic route. She could have driven her Tesla straight up I-95 from northern Atlanta to the Hamptons in a day if she wanted to. She did not. She wanted to drive through places that didn't have cell service but did have trees, nature, fresh air, and limited stuffy snotwads calling her “Misses Sterling”. She wanted to spend time with Billy and her memories of her grandfather. She rubbed Billy's steering wheel as she drove, remembering the smell of oil and paint and ozone from the welder. That was the best part of her childhood. The summers she spent with her father's father restoring Billy. Her 1974 fully refurbished C10. The only modern thing in the whole truck was the radio and speakers. She couldn't stand the scratchy, tinny sound from the original radio. Even if it still worked, she needed the music to sound right, or she might pull her hair out.

Popping out from a tunnel of trees, there was suddenly a tiny bit of evidence that humans exist in this vast stretch of wilderness. A damned tiny amount of civilization. She coasted into the fuel station, taking in the General store across the street. Next to the gas station was the post office, and next to the General store was a butcher shop. The butcher shop looked to be the newest building, but still looked like it was built in the 80s. Maybe. She adored architecture, but not enough to remember the design styles of commercial spaces.

Hopping down from her truck, she looked around the …. Town? A street with things on it. Really, there wasn't even a stop sign. It was like a hundred years ago someone decided to use the small patch of flat, treeless pasture to put in a few conveniences. Her truck fit right in. She did not. She was wearing Marino wool for Christ's sake. It’s summer-weight wool. Dyed the same shade of maroon as Billy…. Nearly blood red and soft as sin. At least her crop top was the same color; her leggings and sandals were black. She took in the gas pump. No place for a credit card. At that moment, a tall boy came out of the fuel station. He was lean and long, like he'd been pulled by a taffy puller and wrapped in a set of coveralls with his name, DJ, on an embroidered name patch at his heart.

“Hey there, DJ,” she called as she walked toward the store, “is there a restroom inside?
“Ah.. what? Yes, in the back… um. Ma’am, you fillin up?’ He asked, confused as to how she knew his name. She replied in the affirmative and raced to the facilities. She didn't realize she needed to use them so badly. She wandered back out, much relieved, and just grinned at the inside of the station. One glass front fridge, a single rack of snacks, and a coffee maker with blessedly huge disposable cups. There was sugar and powdered creamer and a communal spoon for stirring. Gods, she loved practical people. Her mother would hate it here.
The young man walked back in as she was fixing herself a cup of coffee, heavy with both offerings. “I’m getting this coffee and I’ll be coming back in to pay after I fuel up, if that's ok, or do I need to prepay?” she asked without looking back.

DJ stammered a bit, replying,” I filled you up already, Ma’am”. He blushed profoundly red and hurried behind the counter to ring her up. He didn't look at her. Poor thing. She paid and went out to get back on the road when her phone rang.

Tapping the little earpiece she almost always wore and forgot about, she answered, “Hello, mother.”
Gloria Mitchell Sterling Gavin's Petroff, soon to be Marchcroft, replied, “Darling, have you left yet?”
“Yes, mother,” she replied, rolling her eyes.
Don't ‘yes, mother’ me, I worry, darling. When can we expect you? Your rooms are ready as always. Today? Tomorrow?” Gloria chirped.
“Mother, I'll be there a day or two before the wedding, and don't start. I don't need to be there with your bevy of assistants and party planners, every detail will be better than they ever have before,” she replied as she hopped, literally hopped up into her truck and turned the key.
She didn't hear anything else her mother said because Billy shuddered and BOOM…
“Mom, I have to go,” she hung up on her mother as her mother called out her concern.
Billy stalled, and Lilly turned the key again… the truck made a dreadful chugging sound and might have started gargling its own parts.
“FUCK!” she shouted as she dropped down and ran to the front of the truck. Her feet slipped as she tried to climb and open the hood. She kicked off her sandals and spidermonkied up onto the bumper, looking into the engine. Nothing. She could see nothing wrong.
DJ came outside and was face to face with her ass as he asked, squeaked really, if she was ok and if he could help.

The next 45 minutes were a test of her patience. She might have threatened the tow truck driver, DJ’s uncle, a time or two. Or three. About the fifth time he called her “Little Lady,” she reached behind her driver's seat into her bag and pulled out cash… not the colt, cash. She handed him $800. Told him to take her to a garage. She didn't care how far away it was. IF it cost more, she didn't care. She did threaten his balls then. “If you damage my truck, I will exact the same from your balls.” She then stalked off to go sit in the smelly tow truck so she didn't shoot the only person that could get Billy to a garage. She fumed about misogynistic shit fucks and overheard DJ say something about the mechanic killing them and eating her for bothering him. She had been grinding her teeth, but at that, she smiled slightly. Could be a fun date. She just hopped the ‘grumpy old bastard’ had all his teeth, but more importantly, some fucking manners.

The ride was blessedly silent from the direction of Larry, and it only took 20 minutes to wind partway up a hill to a very clean-looking auto garage. Well. fuck. She said. Kind of astonished.

“What the fuck, Larry! You said he's an old crazy bastard,” she said as she stared at the man stalking out of the 2 bay garage. He looked to be her age, maybe a year older. Mid-30s, and built like a brick shithouse. Larry looks older than that specimen. Larry just grunted and got out of the tow truck.

Her bare feet hit the ground on her side of the truck, and she stomped over to Mr. Tall, dark, and Snarly. She plastered on a patently fake smile on her face, thanking all the hells that ‘Larry' didn't call her ‘Little Lady' again. Recalling that she offered to remove his balls, she put a pleasantly evil hiss in her voice as she slapped her hand in Eli’s calloused mitt. She often slapped her hand into men's hands when they bothered to shake her hand rather than take her fingertips and try to kiss them, because it was effective in distracting men from the fact that her hands are fucking tiny. She's tiny. Strong, but at 5 feet 2 inches, she's not intimidating anyone older than 12.

Eli gripped her hand snug, not too tight, not soft like a dandy from debutant balls either. Thank goodness, because she was gripping his hand pretty hard herself. He was speaking, but the voice… the grumblly rumbly… oh my god sensation rubbed her nerve endings. It was like the time she sat on a hard saddle on a running Harley. She yanked her hand back and distractedly just spitfired her answers right back. She liked that better. Fucking direct, no coddling the “little girl. Great. What did he say? Problems, right.
She turned her attention to her baby boy and Larry, but kept talking to Eli.

“Hi Eli, the name is Lilly. I didn't realize it was a holiday. Fuck, it's already July. I left when it was still June.” She shook her head, locking her eyes on Larry, and she almost growled. “Shit for brains better not scratch my baby.” Inhaling deeply, she said softer, “Deep breath, Lilly, deep breath. Scratches buff. Just get Billy back in shape.” Continuing to Eli, she broke down the issue, “I didn't hear the initial problem. I was on the phone when I turned the key, but the whole truck shook once, and then a little rumble, and what sounded like a shotgun blast. Couldn't tell you if it was in the front or back because I was distracted. He stalled and did start back up, though there was a tiny, tiny squeal, and now the poor thing sounds like he's chewing bolts and ten penny nails. I didn't want to drive him to a shop, so the kid at the gas station called Mister Mayberrys douche canoo over there to haul Billy here. Kid at the station said you might eat me for bothering you. Sounded like fun, so we're here. Was he calling you a cannibal, or do you only eat women on weekends?

At that moment, Larry was unhooked from the truck. She walked out of the conversation with Eli, calling over her shoulder, “You don't have any superstitions about women being in your shop, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, she went into the garage, grabbed the screwdriver from her door's cargo pocket, and put her long chocolate hair up in a bun, using the screwdriver as a hairstick. Then she popped her hood. She had to climb the front bumper to push the hood all the way open, and then she practically climbed inside the engine compartment. As he got closer, she continued her own diagnostics out loud,” At the station, I didn't hear, see, or smell anything, and I still don't.” Leaning in, she sniffed the carburetor. “Nothing abnormal. No pooling gas. No radiator water smell. No electrical smell. And don't tell me electricity doesn't have a smell. I don't see or smell any broken hoses,” she said to him, edgy and a bit sad, from just above his head height.

 

[The_gladiator]

Goodness, did this woman take a breath? He deserved it for shooting all that at her at first but damn once she got going, she didn’t stop. Even as he listened, he took in what information he had learned from their brief contact. Small, she was tiny in size if not personality. The angle of her hand in his suggested a fair guess at her height. A foot shorter than him at least. Her willingness to shake said she wasn’t shy and wasn’t as delicate as she appeared.



“Well ma’am I reckon I’d eat women any day of the week that they let me, but I do have most weekends off. Not sure anyone’s come round wanting me to eat them for some time. I’ll have to work up a good appetite, though you seem a little spicy for most, be glad I like fire in the women I eat.” He didn’t know if her comments had been an inuendo, so chose to take them as such, DJ’s comments struck too close to home. He’d rather her think of him as a lecherous bastard than the werewolf he was.



He followed the sounds of Larry backing the truck into the bay as he listened to her continue to talk. “I don’t think I’d keep you out if I tried Lilly.” For the first time he tried on her name as he stepped in closer. By the sound she appeared to be climbed up onto the truck’s front. Eli could hear Larry driving off. Didn’t even bother to say good bye. Not that he honestly cared, but still seemed rude. “Of course, electricity has a smell,” he offered off hand as he lay his hand to the side of the truck, formally introducing himself to the Chevy. “Remember how I said it was a holiday? I was closing shop for the day and going to take tomorrow off. By the sound We’ll probably have to order you a new starter anyway and hope the grinding is just stuff backed up inside and you didn’t break a rod or two inside. Parts for this thing won’t be easy to come by out here; this baby isn’t getting any younger you know.”



He sighed, he knew he was going to have to check it out for her tonight, she didn’t seem the type to agree to let him diagnose the problem Monday like most would. “I should really close up shop like I planned, beautiful woman or not in my garage.” He took a chance with the flattery. Most women liked to hear they were attractive, even if by most standards he didn’t have enough to know for sure. From the brief touches and the sound of her voice he was convinced that she appealed to him, but that couldn’t really speak to what others found attractive. “I can’t order parts till Monday anyway. Harvey won’t have that hardware store open again until 7:00 Sharp Monday.”