I reach out with a shaky hand when I stop at the old, rickety front door. I take a deep breath and curl my fingers around the handle, turning it and pushing it open. I step through the front door and inhale deeply. Something smells … nice.
Curious, I walk towards the kitchen. I immediately see my dad standing at the microwave, pulling out a dish. He turns and notices me, and quickly places the dish down. He doesn’t look drunk, but his eyes are bloodshot red. He does, however, look defeated. His shoulders are slumped and he looks exhausted. “Quinnie, honey,” he says, his voice full of shame. “I’m sorry.”
My heart breaks.
I rush over and throw myself into his arms. “It’s okay, Dad. I’m sorry I did that.”
I can smell alcohol on him, but I didn’t expect not to. He can’t just stop drinking. If it were that easy he would have already done it. I have tried to get him help before, but you can’t force someone to do something unless they’re ready, and I don’t have the money to send him to a rehabilitation center.
“I made dinner,” he says, giving me a wonky smile.
I look down at the dish. It’s a mix of pasta that seems clumped together with a cheesy sauce.
“Oh,” I say, staring at the mess. “It looks, ah, great.”
“Mac and cheese,” he mumbles, leaning down to pull out two bowls. “Nothing special.”
He serves me a bowl of food and we sit down at the table. I take a mouthful and struggle to swallow it down. I keep going because he’s trying and it isn’t right of me to turn my nose up when he’s actually making an effort. Dad, on the other hand, scarfs his down as if it’s the best food he’s ever tasted. That makes me sad.
“Listen,” he says after swallowing his final bite. “I’m going to fix this for us.”
My chest tightens, because there’s no possible way he can pull himself together to help me. I know he’ll try, but he’s too far gone to dedicate himself to this for long. I know that better than anyone.
“Dad,” I begin, but he waves a hand, cutting me off.
“No. It isn’t fair that I’m leaving all this on you, Quinnie. You should be enjoying life, making friends…” His eyes scan the small, crappy house. “Moving out.”
I close my eyes.
He reaches over, his warm hand capturing mine. I flick my eyes open and glance at him. “Dad, you owe twenty-two thousand dollars in thirty days. How do you suppose you will fix that?”
“I’ll find a way, but I promise you, Quinnie, that I will figure it out. I won’t leave you without a home.”
It’s not the home I care about. If only he understood that. It’s the garage, because that’s not just the place I work, it’s the only home I’ve ever known.
“Listen, let’s talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I’m exhausted. Thank you for dinner, Dad.”
I stand and take my bowl into the kitchen. I rinse it out and then kiss Dad on the head before heading towards my room.
“I’ll fix it, Quinnie,” he calls after me.
I don’t answer him. There’s nothing he can do to fix this.
I’m the last hope this garage has.
* * *
“Come with me, Quinn girl.” Jace grins, flashing the killer of all killer smiles.
I’m walking down the sidewalk, nearly at the garage the next morning. Jace caught up to me two blocks ago, after coming to my house to get me but finding I had only just left. He’s been following me, trying to convince me to go to the races on the weekend, where Tazen is unveiling his newest race car. Tazen gave him free tickets and two nights’ accommodation. Talk about trying to bribe him. The dick. I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a blunt instrument than go to anything that jerk is at.
“Why are you awake so early?” I ask, trying to change the subject. “Was your girl for the night unsatisfied?”
He snorts. “No lady leaves my bed unsatisfied.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure, Fabio.”
He nudges me with his shoulder, getting back to the subject I’ve been trying to avoid. “Come with me, Quinn! It’s two days.”
“I don’t have two days,” I point out.
I really don’t have two days. I have so much to do and I honestly don’t know how the hell I’m going to find the time to pull it all off in a month.
“You have two days,” he protests. “The garage is closed on the weekends.”
“Yeah, it is,” I mutter. “And I’m trying to save it so I’ll be spending my weekend coming up with ways to do that.”
“We’ll talk while we’re drinking cocktails by the pool and watching famous car racers fly around the track.”
I turn and stare at him, lifting my shades. “Cocktails? You just ruined your reputation for me.”
He laughs loudly, wrapping an arm around me. “Don’t be such a fun spoiler. Come with me.”
I groan. “Isn’t there another poor girl you can torture?”
“None as pretty as you.”
I snort laugh and roll my eyes, pulling my shades back down and walking towards the garage again. “Now you’re using flattery, and while I’m sure it works every other time, this girl isn’t interested. I hate Tazen and I have absolutely no reason to go.”
“He is unveiling Chief, Quinn.”
My eyes widen. I’ve been watching the show, and watching Tazen and his crew building Chief. It’s an amazing, sleek, lime green race car that is seriously panty-melting good.
“No,” I breathe.
“Yes, and you could be there to see it.”
I swallow back the anticipation, because now I really want to go.
“He only gave you those tickets to try and sway me to sell.”
Jace shrugs. “And? Are they going to make you sell?”
I snort.
“Exactly. So really, I got free tickets and if that dude is giving away shit, I’m taking it. Come on, it’ll be epic! Jimmy Fordola is racing Chief for the first time!”
Jimmy Fordola is a NASCAR champion, and it would be amazing to see him racing one of Tazen’s cars.
Still, I really shouldn’t be taking time off.
“Can’t you find another girl to go? I’m sure there are plenty.”
“There are, but you’re the best because I don’t want to fuck you and therefore I can just chill and have fun.”
I put a hand over my chest. “I’m wounded.”
“Not that you’re not beautiful, ’coz you are. You just aren’t my type.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Is it my uneven breasts, because that’s a very real, very common problem!”
He bursts out laughing. “Dude, you have uneven breasts?”
I smirk at him. “Maybe, is that going to be a problem when we’re on our little two-day lovefest?”
His smile gets bigger. “I told you, you’re not my type. A lovefest between us could be…”
“Disastrous? Pitiful? Epically disappointing?”
“Hey,” he says. “Now I’m wounded.”
I shake my head. “Seriously, Jace, I’d love to go with you but I can’t.”
“You can.”
“No.”
He takes hold of me and spins me around so I’m facing him. “Quinn, honey, you can.”
I search his face and I know how much he wants me to go. I’d love to, on any other occasion, but I can’t right now. I have a garage to save. Two days is two days that could take away essential planning time.
“I can’t lose two days, Jace.”
“You can, because today we’re going to come up with a solid plan to save the garage. We’re going to do that, and then you’re going to lock those doors on Friday and come on a weekend adventure with me.”
“Why do you want me to come? Truly?”
He leans down so our foreheads are touching. “Because you’re my best friend and I want to see you smile.”