Mine Again: A Second Chance At Love

2. Mike-1

MikeEver since I took over the garage, business doubled. Buying the run-down station from that old man Nickels had been the smartest decision I made in years. Working for other assholes and letting them reap all the reward for my hard work didn’t work for me, especially when most of them wanted me to bow down and kiss their feet for even giving an ex-con like me a shot. f**k that, and f**k them.

“Mike! Got another one for you,” Leroy called from the front seat of his truck. I waved him in and he pulled around the back. Most tow truck drivers worked for a single garage, going on a call when one came in. Not Leroy. He liked being a “freelancer.” Whatever the f**k that meant in the mechanics world.

I took a quick look at the run-down Honda he pulled behind his truck and shook my head. Whoever drove that car had run the poor thing into the ground. Rust spots on the back hood and the door to the gas tank wasn’t original but had been pieced back together. Who knew what I would find under the hood once I got her up on the lift.

“Where’d you get this piece of s**t?” I tapped on the hood as Leroy hopped out of his truck.

“Some hot chick a few blocks away. Called in a dead battery. I tried jumping it, but still wouldn’t turn.”

“Ah, damsel in distress?” I looked over at the cab of his truck. “Where is she? You have her tied up in your truck?”

Leroy shook his head. If the chick wasn’t with him, it wasn’t by his choice. “That’s more your game anyway.” He winked and started unhooking the car. “Said she had to run to school or something.”

I laughed. “Going for them young now?”

“UIC, you prick,” he called from behind the car. “Her info’s on the dash. Said she’d be here this afternoon. Real tight, that one, wound up good.” Every woman who turned Leroy down had something wrong with them, according to Leroy.

“Thanks.” I reached in the front window and pulled out the paper with her contact info on it. I read the name on the invoice and my heart squealed to a stop. Lauri Robertson. No way it was her. After all those years of staying clear of her, no way her car ended up in my shop. Just a coincidence. My Lauri would have been done with college two years ago. No way this was my Lauri.

I dragged my hand through my short-cropped hair. f**k. She wasn’t mine anymore. Hadn’t been for seven years. I walked away from her, from that place. Nothing had ever been harder to do than decide not to go back after juvie finally released me. I could have. My dad would have let me go home, had even asked me to move in with him, but I couldn’t. I needed space between that past and my future. By the time I was released, Lauri’s mom had gotten rid of that asshole drunk of a husband. She was safe enough. My going back would only bring trouble with me, and Lauri needed to get clear of trouble. She had had enough of that s**t growing up.

I kept tabs on her for a few years, made sure she wasn’t getting into s**t like her mom did. Once I heard she’d gotten a scholarship to college, I had made my decision to let her be. Last I heard, she had moved into the city somewhere. Like me, she didn’t keep up with the old neighborhood. No, this Lauri had to be a different one.

“You okay, man?” Leroy waved an oil stained hand in front of my face. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“This chick. What did she look like?” I couldn’t help myself. I needed to be sure.

“I dunno. Hot. Tight ass, nice tits.”

“Fuckin’ perv. What color hair?” I almost laughed at his description. If Leroy ever had to be a key witness to any crime the only thing he would ever be able to give the prosecution would be the cup size of the girl involved.

“Oh.” His eyes squinted as though thinking was that hard for him to do.

I did laugh then. “Never mind. Your eyes never left her ass.”

“If you had seen it, yours wouldn’t have either.” He gave me a light shove then headed back to his truck. “See you at Teddy’s on Saturday. Poker, ten o’clock. His girl’s gonna make snacks.” Teddy’s wife owned a food truck, the kind that sat in a parking lot all day feeding the machine workers at the factories. Her tamales couldn’t be beat.

“Yeah, see you then.” I headed back into the shop, determined to forget the name Lauri Robertson. I’d spent the last seven years trying to forget her.