Broken Mirrors

Chapter 9

The men who worked with Andrew were all assholes of some greater or lesser degree, and the term “work” was used very generously with most of them.

Richard was the oldest of them by far. He was old enough, probably, to be Andrew’s old man and he looked like he had once been the stereotypical biker attempting to be some kind of wannabe Hell’s Angel. Now he was just an older man with gray hair that hung about shoulder length which he kept, most of the time, pulled back in a ponytail. He was theoretically something of a mechanic and something of a body man, but in practice he knew just enough about either position to be dangerous. Andrew had heard somewhere that those who can’t teach…he didn’t believe that. He believed the truth was something more like what Richard had going for him: those who can’t, supervise. Richard also believed himself to be something of a philosopher…a regular Socrates of bullshit, and he spread it around freely. Richard was on, from what Andrew could tell, his fifth or sixth marriage. It was hard to be sure, though, since he liked to marry the same woman more than once just to make sure he really did hate her when he divorced her and gave her half his s**t.

Then there was Tommy. Tommy was younger than Richard but older than Derek. He was just over five foot tall and if he weighed ninety pounds Andrew would have asked him to empty his pockets. The one saving grace about Tommy was that he was a cheerful little asshole, though an asshole nonetheless, and he did something to keep morale raised around the two bit shop. He was a painter and a body man, though he believed strictly in doing no more than what was going to earn him the pathetic wages on which he lived. He had been at the shop since the beginning, from what Andrew knew about him, and had been married to Nellie, the rough riding woman who bore his two sons, for almost that long. Richard joked that Tommyand Nellie married young and they married drunk, and the only damn reason they never got divorced is because neither of them had sobered up enough to sign their names to the papers yet.

Next in rank, at least based on age and therefore level of asshole experience perhaps, was Derek. He was Andrew’s older brother and Derek was supposed to be a mechanic, but for the most part he was simply another in the ranks of the half ass skill workers that populated the joint and excelled in hungover s**t talking. In particular he liked to talk s**t to Andrew since he’d had the most practice at it.

And then finally in the hierarchy of assholes, and consequently the only one who did more than absolutely necessary to keep the shop afloat, there was Andrew.. Around the shop he was mostly called by his name…something strange for the crew…but the nickname Andy was employed a good deal by Tommywhen he felt it added some flavor to whatever he was trying to get across to the sales representatives, parts men, and the other characters that came around to hang over every surface of the place, presumably because they lacked other employment.

Any variety of shop hands could pass through the doors on a given day. Richard hired and rehired the same pimply faced little shits over and over. They’d come to the shop looking to make a buck, talking big about how they were going to be big shits one day, and then they’d quit when they had enough to take some buck toothed girl out to dinner and bang her in the back of their piece of s**t cars. Andrew didn’t bother to learn the names of any of the shop hands. To him they were as interchangeable as Santa’s reindeer or some s**t like that.

There was also the man that Richard called Tootie. Tootie worked for another small shop on the other side of town and drove the only tow truck in the area. Tootie’s Towing was the name of his little towing business, and really his only claim to fame. The shop he had was really more a holding bin for the cars he towed until they got sorted to either go to one of the fancy dealerships in the area, mostly employed by out of towners that got changed more regularly than most people’s underwear, or to go to Richards for those who preferred the small town feel of a job done half ass unless they asked for Andrew specifically and slipped Richard a few pieces of folding money under the table. Andrew didn’t have half a clue what Tootie’s real name was, but he knew it wasn’t Tootie.

The shop then, owing to the high concentration of assholes, was a pretty rough place in general. Andrew would have cringed to think of anyone coming there who was looking for even a hint of political correctness. Nothing was sacred at Ruchard’s not one damn thing, and women especially beware. The only time there was a shred of decency to be found anywhere in the concrete structure was when a customer was present, but you could guarantee it was temporary and their taillights wouldn’t fade before at least one person had started jacking their jaws about them.

Andrew was busy, this particular day, water sanding a car that they were working on and running possibilities of paint colors over and over in his mind for the Coupe that he was working on in the evenings. He had a long way to go yet, but he liked to think about colors long before he needed them, trying each one out in his mind. The color of a car brought out its personality. The most beautiful car could be discredited if the paint wasn’t right…and likewise one that might not have all the nicest curves and edges could seem damn near showpiece quality given the right color. And it just so happened that of all the aspects of body work that Andrew excelled in, and that was damn near every aspect, painting was at the top of the list. His concentration on trying out the various colors in his mind, though, was broken by the voice of Tommy echoing through the shop over the sounds of Richard and Derek who were pretending to be doing something while Tommy hung outside one of the stalls and smoked a cigarette.

“Andy, your girlfriend’s here!” Tommy called out, his chuckle echoing around Andrew. Andrew cringed. According to Tommy, everyone was Andrew’s girlfriend. It didn’t matter if they were male or female, young or old…and Andrew had the sneaking suspicion that alive or dead wasn’t much of a criteria either, except for the fact that dead folks didn’t frequent Richards and remind Tommy’s pickled mind that Andrew was dating them in some alternate universe. In fact, the least pleasant the idea of having the person as a “girlfriend” might be, the more adamant Tommy became that this was indeed the love of Andrew’s life. That meant, of course, that Andrew couldn’t wait to see who was coming to jack their jaws and shoot the s**t with the cast of characters he worked with.

“Suck my d**k, Tommy,” Andrew shot back. He didn’t bother to move from his position. He never did when someone came to the shop. He let the other assholes converse if they wanted to, but he continued on in his own world doing whatever the hell it was he was doing at the time, and only half listening to whatever spewed forth from their mouths.

“Who the hell is it, Tommy?” Richard called from underneath the car he was supposed to be working on with Derek . Andrew knew that really Richard would be accomplishing more mechanical work if he were under there tugging on his d**k, but appearances were everything.

“Hell if I know!” Tommy shot back, his voice raising a few octaves which normally indicated that Tommy was refraining from talking out his ass for the moment. His voiced dropped immediately after and resumed the tone that told Andrew he was amusing himself. “Pippi f*****g Longstocking or some s**t l…got more knees and elbows than a damn granddaddy longlegs.”

From Tommy’s given name Andrew didn’t know who the hell it was, but that was nothing new or original. Tommy had a habit of nicknaming everyone and your nickname was subject to change without warning. Pippi could have been anyone who had struck Tommy, at least for the moment, as bearing some vague resemblance.

“How do?” Tommy called, presumably as Pippi neared the open door to the stall. Andrew never heard a response from Pippi and continued water sanding. He never heard Tommy say anything else either. He held his folded square of sandpaper out to the side and ran the water from the hose over it, aiming the spray toward the drain in the floor nearest his feet, and his eyes darted over a pair or dirty, well worn, blue sneakers standing a little less than a foot from him. He glanced up, his hair falling slightly in his eyes and his vision danced across the features of the run away.

“The f**k ya doin’ here?” Andrew asked.

“What are you doing?” The girl asked, watching Andrew and circling, just a bit around the car, her hand shooting out and finger darting into one of the holes on the back of the body he was water sanding where the taillight would later be fitted in.

“I’m water sanding,” Andrew said. “And if you don’t know that s**t just goes ta show you ought not be here. What the f**k are you doin’ here? Did you run the away again?”

Sophia shook her head.

“No, I didn’t run away,” she responded. “I just came to look around.”

“That’s right, Andy, no need to be so damn inhospitable,” Richard said apparently having decided to take some kind of break from the no doubtedly hard work he’d been employed at until Sophia’s presence provided a distraction. “Del Shannon here was just coming to look around…see what this fine establishment has to offer.”

“What the hell did you call me?” Sophia asked, crinkling her nose.

“And she’s got quite the personality,” Tommy responded from off to the side.

“If you don’t know who Del Shannon is,” Richard said, “then you might not be old enough to be hanging around here.”

“Damn straight ya ain’t old enough. Get’cha ass back on home where you belong,” Andrew said. “This ain’t no place for ya.”

Sophia ignored him, though. She walked a wide circle around him and ventured further into the shop. She walked along in front of the work counter, picking at things there. She had the full attention, for the moment, of everyone in the shop. It wasn’t often that females came to Richard’s, and it was even less often that young girls showed up at the shop.

Andrew was uncomfortable with the presence. He didn’t know how long it would take the assholes around him to insult Sophia or how long it would take for the first one of them to spout the word p***y like it had an expiration date, but he knew it was coming. He didn’t know why it bothered him, or why he cared at all, but he would rather the girl not be subjected to the dickheads he worked with.

“This place is damn near filthy,” Sophia said suddenly, looking around. Her statement brought forth a howl of laughter from Andrew’s three comrades.

“You see, Pippi,” Tommysaid, “that’s what the hell happens in a shop. Wouldn’t go eatin’ off any of the floors if you know what I mean.”

“So because you assholes work on cars it means none of you got the common sense to use a broom?” Sophia asked, her face crinkled up.

Another howl of laughter rang through the shop and Andrew couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at that one. He supposed that the thick layer of gray dust, the patches of kitty litter scattered around the floor, and the other scraps of trash here and there would look out of place to most, but at Richard’s it was part of the experience.

Still, Richard’s was no place for a girl to be leaning against the counter. Andrew didn’t want to think of all the things she’d hear in the next five minutes if no one got her out of there.

“I’m serious now,” Andrew said. “Get on outta here and go back where you came from. Your parents is gonna be worried.”

“Told you,” Sophia said, “ain’t got no parents.”

“Would you look at that,” Tommy called out, “we got ourselves one of the lost boys.”

“You were wrong, Tommy,” Richard said, “her name ain’t Pippi, it’s Wendy.”

Sophia made a face at Richard.

“This ain’t no place for you,” Andrew said. “You best get on outta here. Don’t no damn body in here got no sense.”

“Eh…’cept you, aye lil’ brotha?” Derek called from where he was now leaning against the body of the car that he’d been tinkering on with Richard. “Protectin’ ya lil’ girlfriend from us…damn savages that we are.” He chuckled. “Why not let ole Wendy here hang around? We short hands an’ she knows better than all a’ us…”

Andrew didn’t have time to care about this s**t. He’d already warned the girl a couple of times that she’d be best to shimmy her ass right on back to where she came from, but she wasn’t budging from the spot where she was leaned against the counter.

“What does a hand do?” Sophia asked.

The three stooges all chuckled at the girl and Andrew picked up his water hose giving it a couple of quick sprays before settling back into his work. She’d learn soon enough that she’d chosen a place that wasn’t meant for a woman and sure as s**t wasn’t meant for knobby kneed girl that couldn’t even drive the cars they fixed.

Richard looked around and dug in his pocket pulling out the balled up pack of chewing tobacco he stored there. He shoveled some into his mouth and arranged it with his tongue.

“Well now…let’s see. If you was to be a hand ‘round here you’d clean up…sweep, take out the trash…and you’d wash and vacuum cars. Tommy here could show you how we detail ‘em ‘fore customers pick ‘em up…other things, little things,” Richard said.

“Ya pay?” Sophia asked.

Richard chuckled.

“Well, Wendy, if you do a fine job of it…there’s enough money in it I reckon to get’cha some candy…maybe a sody pop,” Richard drew out, a smirk across his face.

Sophia tilted her head and raised her eyebrow.

“How much?” She asked.

Richard sucked his teeth and looked around. He was the one that ran the place so none of the others would have the answer to the question.

“Two bucks an hour to start,” Richard said. “Two fifty if ya keep Tommy’s sorry ass in line and make him earn half his wages…we’ll see how you work out.”

“Richard’s one generous son of a b***h,” Derek growled, laughing. “Ya oughta earn seven fifty just for keepin’ Tommy’s sorry ass in line. That’s a full time fuckin’ position right there.”

Sophia lifted her lip at him and knit her eyebrows together.

“So I’m guessing I could retire on what he’d pay me to keep you in line, right?” Sophia asked.

Richard nearly choked on the tobacco juice and made a beeline for the trash can to spit. Tommy cackled and leaned against the door frame he’d been holding firmly in place since Sophia’s arrival, and Derek even offered a light chuckle before reaching down to pick the wrench up off the floor that he’d been using earlier and dip back under the hood.

“So what’cha say, Wendy? Two fifty to start?” Richard asked. “You gotta keep up with your own hours though, I ain’t got time to go running around after you.”

Sophia considered it a moment, tracing her finger in the dust on the counter next to her. She wiped her hands together to blend the gray dirt into her skin and shook her head.

“You got it,” she said. “I can work after school five days a week…don’t got nothing better to do on the weekends. Might as well earn two fifty an hour cleaning up after you assholes.”

She wiped her hand on her pants and stepped forward, offering it to Richard. He chuckled and clasped her tiny white hand in his much larger, chapped paw.

“Ain’t open on Sundays,” he said, “but if you wanta put in a couple of hours catchin’ up, Andrew’s always here. You can pop in and finish what we left for you on Saturday. We only work half days on Saturday…done by two.”

“Two to five we catch up on what we ain’t done all week,” Tommy offered.

“Two to five ya drink fuckin’ beer an’ hide out from Nellie,” Derek said with a snort.

“Andrew’s here then too,” Richard said. “Son of a b***h don’t never leave, so you just keep up with your hours and let the fucker vouch for you.”

Andrew looked up from what he was doing. It was bad enough that the three idiots were inviting some girl to come and be ruined by their bad habits and to trip him up six days a week when he couldn’t escape their sorry asses, now they were inviting her to spend her Sundays up there too wrecking his productive periods. He couldn’t get s**t done if she was going to be underfoot and he wasn’t about to babysitter to no little girls who didn’t know where their place was.

“Ain’t no need ta come on Sundays,” he grumbled. “Ain’t s**t for ya on no damn Sunday…ain’t no damn place for ya the whole damn week, but ya sure as s**t don’t need ta be here on Sunday. Don’t look right no damn girl hangin’ ‘round no shop alone with a man.”

“Who’s gonna be here?” Derek asked. “I thought it was just you that was gonna be here, lil’ brotha, ain’t heard no mention a’ no damn man.”

“f**k you, Derek,” Andrew growled. He went back to working, seeing that he’d never win this. He was out numbered and out assholed. The only hope he had was that the kid’s parents showed up and had the good sense to put a stop to the s**t. They’d probably be pissed at him if they found out she was up here sticking her stupid freckled nose into his s**t, when really he wasn’t the one who wanted her around. The other three men probably wanted her around for entertainment…same damn reason the fed every mangy shop hound that wandered up their way.

“I’ll come after school,” Sophia said finally. “See how it works out. If I like it here and there’s something for me to do, then I’ll see about Saturday until y’all are done.”

“Suit yourself,” Richard said. “Friday’s payday and there ain’t no benefits and no advances. You get paid for what you do and that’s all.”

Sophia nodded her head.

“I’ll get started now,” she said. “What time do you close up?”

“Shop closes at six,” Richard said. “But you come and go as you please. Like I said, ain’t got time to go running around behind your ass.”

“Fine,” Sophia said. “I’ll stay today until five thirty. You can just pay me next Friday.”

Richard shrugged and started back under the car from which he had come. Sophia, apparently considering the matter closed, crossed the shop and pulled one of the large brooms off the wall to start pushing the dust, litter, and trash out the door while Tommy watched her.

“Don’t you have something you should be doing?” Sophia asked as she swept past him the first time.

“Waitin’ on something,” Tommy said.

“What are you waiting on?” Sophia asked.

“Closin’ time,” Tommy responded.

Andrew shook his head and watched a second as Sophia continued to sweep, undeterred by Tommy.

“Don’t sweep over here,” Andrew protested as she got near his area.

“I’m not, cool your jets,” Sophia said. “I’m not stupid, you know…I think I know what happens when dirt and water mix together.”

“Damn straight,” Tommy said. “They teach that s**t in school and our Wendy here’s probably val-e-dic-torian.”

“Not quite, but I’m impressed,” Sophia said. “That’s a pretty big word for you…over two syllables and all.”

Andrew shook his head again but couldn’t help but snicker. As soon as the girl’s parents, who she declared not to have, caught wind of her new position, she wouldn’t be back, but until then he couldn’t help but laugh at anyone who would give s**t back to any of the fuckers he was forced to work with, even if she was just a kid.

————————————————————-

When Crystal got home from work the mailbox had been replaced and the front yard was done. She got out of the car and made her way up the porch, admiring the good job that Sophia had done.

The previous evening Crystal had felt guilty about the whole thing. Sophia had been a little strange toward her after she broke the mirror and Carol worried that she’d been too harsh with the girl when she’d been staring at her. She hadn’t meant to be, but she was afraid that she’d overreacted purely because of her own adrenaline.

Sophia had spent the rest of the evening outside working in the yard and had only come in when Crystal had finally begged her to have dinner, insisting that it was too dark to even see what she was doing.

Feeling guilty, Crystal had bought the fixings to make brownies and cupcakes for the girl for dessert. She had no idea what Sophia liked and didn’t like, and she knew that she needed to get around to having her make a list or something, but she hoped that she could offer the sweets as some kind of peace offering…as some way of apologizing for being the difficult person that she knew she had a tendency to be.

When Crystal got to the door and found it locked, though, she got concerned. Sophia wasn’t home, but the fact that she’d put the mailbox up, which wasn’t up this morning, meant that the girl had been there already. Crystal unlocked the door and stepped inside, dropping the groceries on the table. She called out a few times, but Sophia wasn’t there to respond.

Crystal felt her stomach churn and realized that she’d apparently upset the girl bad enough that she’d run off. She was about to start looking for the number to call when she noticed, stuck in the middle of the refrigerator door, a magnet stuck in the middle, was a piece of the yellow legal pad that kept getting pushed around the counter. Crystal walked over and took it off the fridge, holding it up to read it.

Gone to shop. Sophia

Crystal stood there a moment, confused. Sophia had left her a note, which she had asked her to do if she was leaving the house. It didn’t make any sense, though. If Sophia had intents to go shopping then she’d quickly find that it was probably a ten mile walk to the nearest place she could really buy anything…and Crystal didn’t know where the girl got money.

Crystal stood there a minute, looking at the note in her hand. She put it down on the counter finally and walked through the house, mounting the steps and going down the hall. She knocked and opened the door to Sophia’s room. Her suitcase was in the middle of the floor and Crystal lifted it, checking it for weight. Her backpack was on her bed and some of the books were scattered on the bed.

Crystal looked around. Nothing was abnormal and nothing was out of place. The door had been locked and there was a note on the fridge.

She supposed it was possible to assume that Sophia had come home from school, finished up with the front yard and the mailbox, and decided to take off somewhere…apparently to shop…but it just didn’t make a lot of sense.

Crystal sighed and rubbed at her face trying to figure out what she should do. She didn’t know what the right thing to do in this situation was. What would a parent of a teenager do?

She decided, finally, that she’d trust Sophia’s note and take it at face value. The girl had done what she’d asked her to do…at least so far. Crystal decided to go and start dinner. She’d given the girl a curfew and she couldn’t remember exactly what time it had been. Eight? Nine? She decided she’d wait it out for a bit and see if Sophia decided to return from her shopping trip. Then she could request some kind of explanation. She supposed, though, that if she hadn’t seen the girl by ten, she would have to call the police or something.

Crystal tried to focus on dinner, but she was almost a nervous wreck. She kept glancing at the clock, nearly every two or three minutes, and hoping that this wasn’t going to go as badly as she thought it might. She closed her eyes a few times and prayed the girl was being straight with her and that she’d be back from whatever she was doing, but the fear that she was going to have to call the cops…that she was going to have to admit that she did something as stupid as trust this “troubled” teen to be home alone…that they weren’t going to find Sophia…that something was going to happen to her and Crystal would have to live with that and know that she hadn’t been smart enough to stop it…all of that kept bubbling up inside her.