I didn’t have anything nice to say, so I didn’t say anything.
“Thank you for vouching for me. Your recommendation sealed it.”
“Well, just make sure you don’t make me look bad,” I said.
“I think Sara likes you,” she said quietly. “She asked a lot of questions about you and how well you know me.”
I ignored her. I knew Sara liked me. I wasn’t looking to get into anything with anyone, and one-night stands weren’t my style. Sara still flirted with me mercilessly.
“Viv, I needed to buy my first two club shirts. I didn’t have the money, so Sara put them on your account. I’ll pay you for them, I promise.”
“It’s fine,” I said.
I was just glad she got the job. That meant she’d be working on the weekends, and I’d see less of her. Fifty bucks for shirts was worth that.
I asked, “Do you need anything from the store? I need to stop at Wal-Mart. Unless that’s too far below you.”
I was sure she frowned when I said it. I realized I needed to work on my attitude if we were going to be able to live together. She’d been making an effort, why shouldn’t I?
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Yeah, you did. But I deserve it. Wal-Mart will be fine, thanks.”
She got some basics and asked if I could buy her some shorts to wear at her new job. I obliged and was surprised when she asked me to tell her what I thought after she tried them on.
She looked good, of course. Beauty wasn’t her problem. She could make a potato sack look good.
“What’s wrong with your car?” I asked as we got out of my truck.
“I don’t know. It runs poorly, and the check engine light is on.”
“Let me take it for a ride. I’ll see if it’s something I can fix for you.”
“You know how to fix cars?”
I shrugged and took her keys.
It started fine, so I drove it to my friend Sanchez’s auto shop. His given name was Ken Marsh, and he wasn’t Hispanic, but when we were in high school he had jet-black hair and a thin mustache.
One of the jocks started calling him ‘Spic’ until Ken broke his nose and said, “I’m Irish, you asshole.”
We all laughed and started calling him Sanchez. We were kids, what did we know about being politically correct? He called me Chick, and what could I say? It sucked to have a girl’s name.
“Hey, Sanchez,” I said as I walked up to the stall he was working in.
“What’s up, Brother?”
“Can you check the codes on this piece of shit?”
As he took a look, he asked, “You buying a beater?”
“No, it’s my ex-sister-in-law’s. She’s staying with me for a while?”
“I thought Jane’s sister was a rich bitch. Did she have another?”
“Nope. She’s just a bitch now.”
“Wow!” He grinned.
“Yeah, that karma train is a stone-cold bitch.”
He hooked up his equipment and a bit later he said, “It’s the mass air flow sensor. It’ll be about $300 or so. I can add a PITA fee too if you want?”
“No. As much of a pain in the ass as she is, I’m paying for it.”
“Ok, Chick. Friends with benefits discount it is then. I can have it done tomorrow if that’s okay. I’m working anyway.”
“Thanks, Bud. I’ll leave it and see you tomorrow.”
*****
“Can you fix it?” She asked as I walked in the kitchen.