Jerk It Read online

  Luckily, she was pretty decent.

  “Thank you,” she said as she placed her stuff down on the counter in the small bathroom.

  I left her at that, going downstairs and getting things turned on. Once my compressor and steamer were ready in the back, I got to work on a transmission from yesterday, only realizing about twenty minutes later that I’d never changed out of my workout clothes.

  “Shit,” I said as I looked down at myself.

  I was clean.

  Luckily.

  But I knew I wouldn’t be for long if I didn’t get changed.

  Grabbing a rag, I headed to my office, going to the corner of the room and grabbing a pair of pants off a shelf.

  After kicking off my shoes and shucking my shorts and t-shirt, I was just stepping into the pants when I heard movement from the stairs.

  I didn’t turn around but was delighted when I heard the soft intake of air as Mavis saw me getting dressed in the corner.

  I waited until I had the jeans buttoned before turning around and surveying her.

  She was in scrubs, and she was staring at me as if she’d never seen me before.

  “You done?” I asked gruffly.

  Her face was pink from the shower, and though I couldn’t see her baby belly due to the looseness of her scrubs, I could still tell that there was something more there than there’d been the last time she’d been in my shop.

  I opened my mouth to say something, probably like ‘you can leave,’ when both of our attention went to the front door.

  “Alessio, who is that here so…oh! Mavis! You’re back! I’m so happy to see you!” My mother, the woman that couldn’t help herself from being nice to everyone, no matter what, looked like she was struck with sheer joy upon seeing her. “Would you like a donut?”

  Mavis smiled back at my mother, and for one instant in time, I almost wished that that smile was aimed at me.

  “Ohh,” Mavis turned to my mother and smiled. “Guilia. You’re so beautiful. And thank you, but no thank you. I’m trying to cut down on all the sugary things because I’ve gained so much weight.”

  “You can’t tell that you’ve gained weight,” I muttered underneath my breath.

  Mavis’s eyes shot to mine. “What?”

  “Aren’t you going to be late?” I asked, not repeating my words.

  She looked at her watch and cursed. “I have like six and a half minutes to get there on time. If I run across the parking lot to get into the hospital.”

  My mother ushered her out the door, and before I could say another word to her, she was gone, yelling, “Thank you for letting me use your shower,” over her shoulder as she left.

  I was sitting down in my office chair, glaring at her stupid foreign-made van backing out of my parking lot, when my mother got back into the office.

  “I found a place to work,” she said. “This’ll be my last day bringing you breakfast.”

  I groaned and looked at her. “Are you sure you have to work?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know I like to keep busy. And though doing this,” she gestured at my desk that looked almost immaculate in the way she organized it, “keeps me busy, I don’t want to do it every day of the week. I love you, but my brain needs more stretching than what I can get filling out orders, filing paperwork, and making sure you have the correct parts ordered.”

  I snorted. “Where did you find something?”

  She grinned then. “At the local radio station in town. I am officially on the air at five in the morning until ten thirty when the syndicated show comes on.”

  I grinned. “I knew they’d want you.”

  My mother, after being fired from Pearl Pope’s place, eventually found a job at a local radio station four towns away. It took her over two years, but eventually she went from a custodian, to working in the sound booth, to being the actual radio personality for over five years.

  Everyone loved her so much, especially when she was dubbed ‘The Italian Mama’ by a local celebrity. She became the person that ‘told you like it is’ and ‘never went easy’ on anyone, no matter how hard the subject matter.

  It was my mother’s job, and eventually her radio personality self, that helped raise the money to give me lifesaving surgery when I turned eighteen years old.

  If she hadn’t had that job, I didn’t think that I would be alive to tell the tale today.

  “That’s great, Mom,” I told her. “But why didn’t you just take that syndicated deal that was offered to you?”

  I knew why she didn’t.

  My mother was a special person.

  She was the type of person who would root for the underdog every single time.

  “The station spoke to me spiritually,” she told me.

  My mother believed in ‘spirits.’ She believed in the way someone’s ‘light’ made them shine…or not shine.

  She was seriously one of those ‘woo woo’ people that others looked at and thought they were completely whacko.

  And sometimes I thought the same.

  But she was the gentlest person you’d ever meet in your life, and never pulled her punches when she thought you were being a dumbass.

  She only ever wanted to see people succeed.

  “Well, Ma.” I groaned as I leaned back in my chair and eyed the box of donuts she put down on the desk in front of me. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “You’re only going to miss me because now you’ll have to answer your own phone,” she countered.

  I grinned at her. “Busted.”

  “I got your favorite,” she pointed out.

  I sighed and reached into the box.

  Donuts were why I worked out so hard.

  I loved them, and they loved me—especially my love handles.

  Not that I had love handles, but if I ate too many, and didn’t work out, I did.

  In fact, just five years ago, shortly after my mother and I won the lottery—I say my mother and I because she’d purchased the ticket for me—I’d gotten a little bit…fat.

  After realizing the error in my ways a few months into my sloth-like state, I’d changed my way of life and chosen to better myself by going to CrossFit.

  Becoming healthy again had saved my life, because a few months ago, my heart started acting up again.

  Something that had been a thorn in my side when I had contracted myocarditis from a viral infection around age nine. There were quite a few hospitalizations, procedures and medications until I finally recovered. Then at age seventeen I had a heart attack.

  “Make sure you save some of those for me, piggy,” Mom teased as she moved around the desk toward the box I’d commandeered and then managed to eat six donuts out of. “Or I’m going to stop bringing them.”

  I snorted and pushed the box toward her, thinking that six donuts was more than enough, and then said, “Why are you so nice to Mavis?”

  My mother took the seat next to me and stared at me for so long that I thought she wasn’t going to answer.

  Then she rolled her eyes. “Why do you hold grudges for so long?”

  “I don’t,” I denied.

  She scoffed. “You do. But that’s me coming out in you. Or, more accurately, that’s my mother coming out in you. Man, could she hold a mean grudge!”

  I waited for her to continue.

  When she did, I wasn’t surprised that she was super sweet about explaining.

  My mother really couldn’t be mean, even if she tried.

  “I don’t think that you see Mavis clearly,” she admitted. “I know that you said Mavis invited you to ‘y’all’s favorite spot.’ However, you knew better than to traipse around the property, and you know you did. I’d told you more than once not to do it, because you knew how that bitter shrew hated seeing kids—even her own grandchildren—out on her lawn. But you did it anyway. So, I know this is going to really hurt to hear, but if you want to blame anyone, you should blame yourself. You were the older child. You should’ve damn well known better, becau
se I told you to. And you were twelve to her nine. So…”

  So she did have a point.

  I sighed.

  “It was bad,” I told her. “I know that I shouldn’t blame her but…”

  “But you had to live in a car for two years, lie to your peers, dig in trash cans for food, and ultimately degrade yourself just so you could survive.” She paused. “I know that you did, baby. And I hate that I couldn’t give you what every kid should have. But we turned out okay, don’t you think?”

  “I think that you’re trying to make me forget the awfulness by realizing that we ended up pretty good in the end,” I rolled my eyes and stood up to walk to the vintage Dr. Pepper machine that was in the corner. “Do you think we could get this thing to work again?”

  My mother, sensing the need for a change of subject, sighed. “You’re being very weird today. Does that maybe have something to do with the beautiful Mavis being here?”

  Instead of answering her, I jogged up the stairs to use the restroom, and found it cleaned.

  I wasn’t sure, but I was fairly sure I’d left clothes on the floor.

  Now they were in the hamper in the corner of the room and separated at that.

  The towels in one hamper and the greasy clothes in another.

  There was also a Post-It note on the mirror that had me grinning.

  That grin slid off my face when I read what the note said: You’re a damn slob. Thanks for the shower. I still dislike you. M.

  M.

  Well, M, I still dislike you, too.

  Rolling my eyes, I went back to work.

  And I tell you what, I didn’t think about her once for the rest of the day.

  Also, I was a damn liar.

  CHAPTER 4

  If Cinderella’s shoe fits perfectly, why the fuck did it fall off?

  -Questions about life

  MURPHY

  One month later

  I wasn’t sure why the hell I was at my second class of the day.

  Usually, I only went to one because I just didn’t have the time in the day to spare.

  But today’s workout was easy, it was a thirty-minute jog or row.

  This morning I’d run.

  Tonight, I was going to row.

  At least, that was as long as a certain blonde pixie rowed.

  If she didn’t, I’d be running.

  Because I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about her.

  I admit it, okay? I was a glutton for punishment.

  I knew that I couldn’t have her—for reasons that I refused to focus on at that moment in time—but that didn’t mean that I could completely turn my brain off and ignore her like I wanted to.

  Which was why, after a month of thinking about her nonstop, I was now doing something stupid—attending the class that she normally attended.

  I had a plan.

  I would sit in my truck and wait until she either A, arrived, or B, didn’t.

  If she didn’t arrive, then I would be heading back home where I seriously needed to get some work done on my fixer-upper house.

  All of those years ago, when we’d first been kicked out of our home, I’d seen this old house with its guest house and big ass pool, and thought, ‘That’s where I want to live someday.’

  And, when we’d come back home, I’d bought it sight unseen.

  Possibly, I should’ve looked at it first.

  At least it was livable.

  My mom’s guest/pool house had been completely renovated and updated with all the latest appliances.

  The main house, however, not so much.

  It needed a lot of work, and it was exhausting after working a twelve-hour day as a mechanic.

  Luckily, though, I only worked four days a week, leaving me with three full days to get shit done in it.

  However, fixing one thing only led to another thing wrong.

  And I was getting frustrated.

  Not to mention while I was fixing the house, I thought about what a certain someone would think.

  Like paint colors.

  Why was I thinking to myself, ‘this blue is the color of Mavis’s eyes?’ When I should be thinking, ‘Why the fuck am I painting my living room blue?’

  I was so focused inwardly on my house and what needed done, and what I shouldn’t do—like think of whether Mavis would like sparkly fucking quartz countertops—that I almost missed her going inside.

  When I did see her, it was to see the back end of her disappearing through the door.

  Feeling my heartrate accelerate, I picked up my shit from the bench seat beside me and slid out of my truck.

  The pounding rain that’d been plaguing Paris, Texas all day instantly soaked me.

  I groaned and walked through the rain until I got to the front door.

  Just as I was reaching for the door handle, the door opened, and a glaring Mavis stared back at me.

  “Get out of the rain already,” she grumbled when I froze.

  I snorted. “Thanks for getting the door.”

  She scoffed. “You don’t have to sound like you’re disgusted that I got it for you.”

  “I could’ve gotten it myself,” I pointed out.

  She put her hands on her hips, and that’s when I saw how much she’d grown in the last four weeks.

  She’d gotten massive.

  Not that I would ever point that out.

  “You could just say thank you,” she suggested haughtily.

  I could have.

  I probably should have.

  But there was something about seeing Mavis riled that really did it for me.

  That, and I still wasn’t quite on her side.

  My mom was right. I didn’t know how to let things go.

  But being homeless wasn’t something that you could just ‘let go.’

  “Thank you,” I finally grumbled.

  “Everyone gather around and let’s get started warming up!” Madden yelled.

  I looked over to see him staring at Mavis and me.

  My brows rose.

  He looked at Mavis, then at me, then at Mavis again, clearly saying something I couldn’t comprehend with his eyes.

  I ignored him and turned slightly away from Mavis.

  She glared hard at me, something in which I caught out of the corner of my eye, and then sighed long and loud before turning to face Madden.

  “Today we’re going to do thirty solid minutes of rowing or running,” he looked outside. “I’m going to assume that the majority of you will be rowing.”

  I looked over my shoulder to the bank of windows that looked toward the parking lot, then snorted. “I don’t know why you would think that.”

  Mavis snickered at my words.

  The front door banged, and we all turned to look just as another member all but stumbled through the door.

  “Goddamn,” Soren snarled as he tossed his shit on the ground. “It’s fucking tornadoing outside.”

  “Tornadoing isn’t a word, Soren,” I called.

  Soren flipped me off and stripped out of his sopping wet shirt.

  He tossed it to the ground and then moved to his pants at the same time as he stepped out of his navy-blue Crocs.

  I chuckled as all the ladies in the room all but moaned in excitement.

  Turning away, I looked out of the corner of my eye to see if Mavis was looking and got irrationally pissed when I saw she was.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I felt the anger rise.

  “Everybody grab a jump rope!” Madden called.

  Those of us that had our own walked to our bags. Those that didn’t walked to the opposite wall and grabbed a gym one.

  I found myself walking next to Mavis who was muttering under her breath.

  “What was that?” I asked as I reached I into the side pocket of my bag.

  “I said, I hope that I don’t pee on myself,” she repeated.

  “Same, girl. Same,” another member whom I didn’t know grumbled.

  I didn’t spare her a glanc
e.

  Instead, I kept my gaze on my rope handles as I thought.

  “Nothing to say to that?” she wondered.

  I shrugged. “Not really. Incontinence really has nothing interesting about it.”

  She snickered and unfurled her rope.

  Then we preceded to have double-under practice for a full five minutes before moving into some dynamic stretching.

  Good news: Mavis didn’t pee herself.

  Bad news: Mavis was in front of me during our downward dog stretch.

  “All right,” Madden called ten minutes later. “Those that are running, head to the bay door. Those that are rowing, find a rower.”

  We did, and I found myself being sandwiched between Soren and Mavis.

  Mavis who was grumbling under her breath as she waited for the screen to cooperate.

  Soren who was shaking the wet out of his hair and hitting my calves with it.

  “Do you mind?” I asked.

  Soren grinned at me.

  I reached down and shucked the shirt off my top half, tossing it to the floor near my bottle of water.

  My screen finally began to cooperate, along with Mavis’s, and together we watched with amusement as Soren bitched about the damper, the amount of time the screen was taking to load, the units that the screen was displaying, and finally about rowing in general.

  “You okay over there, Doc?” Mavis laughed.

  “Fine,” he grumbled.

  “Go!”

  We all started rowing, and I realized rather quick that I was going to suck.

  I was tired from my workout this morning, not to mention the amount of work I’d put in underneath a car today.

  Needless to say, ten minutes in, I was dying.

  Luckily, I wasn’t the only one.

  Unluckily, it was the woman at my side that was struggling.

  I watched, slightly mesmerized, as Mavis tore her shirt off and threw it to the ground, her face pouring sweat.

  “So hot,” she groaned as she got back to rowing.

  I grunted out a reply, trying not to stutter in my own row at the sight of her.

  It was hot.

  In fact, with the rain, the humidity was downright unbearable.

  The only thing that felt like it was saving us was the air that came out of the rower’s fan.

  I could feel a slight disturbance in the air from Mavis’s machine.