Page 97 of Mod the Mall
He sighed. “It’s fair to be nervous. As much as I love my grandfather and his legacy, it’s time to build my own thing. Make this place a destination again. I might not be able to build stuff like either of you can, but I can make a memorable experience.”
“You can.” I eyed him and smirked. “Of course, I can make an impression too. Hopefully, this time, without any explosions.”
He laughed. “Where would the fun be in that?”
I kissed him, then opened a bunch of tabs on my laptop. “Okay, I’ll draw up the contracts. We’d need to check on so many patents. Doesn’t your Uncle Paulie know everybody?” I asked.
“Yeah, what do you need?”
“A mechanic. A business lawyer. Someone good at sewing. And, um, you, obviously.”
He laughed. “You’ve got me.”
Unsurprisingly, his friends and family came through.
It took months of prototyping, but finally, I had a rentable stuffed animal mech ready. And we had a meeting.
I drove my turkey car down the mall walkway toward the Workshop at the singularly slow speed. I beeped twice, a garbled “gobble gobble” coming from the mouthpiece.
“What the hell is that?” Ash asked, peering outside True Tech.
“My new business. Ours,” I corrected as Sal sauntered out from Geppetto’s Workshop.
He tipped a cowboy hat with a bandana emblazoned with ‘Zero’s Zoomers’ tied above the brim. “Howdy, partner,” he said.
“Did you make that?” I grinned, trying to fight the memory of his mimed attempt to lasso Satan for a video game.
“Thought you might feel better about our meeting if you had a new hat.” He twisted it around and perched it atop my current baseball cap. “Stylish. Badass.”
“Thanks.” This style did imply I was an animal wrangler of sorts. Someone who could conquer unknown frontiers. I kissed him and scooted up so he could fit in behind me on the mech.
He wrapped his arms around me. “Are you sure it’ll hold both of us?”
“Pretty sure. Only one way to find out,” I teased, twisting the handle for us to move forward. The turkey hummed and glided forward like we were part of some glorious float in a parade.
Sal pageant-waved to Ash, and the turkey’s right tailfeather blinked with the repurposed drum kit lights as a makeshift turn signal.
“You two are ridiculous.” She grinned.
“Remember, we’re your favorite neighbors and friends,” he called, then fit his arms more snugly around me, his warmth powering my determination. “What do you say we celebrate after this mall meeting?” he asked
If the contracts were signed, absolutely. “I think I know the perfect place,” I said, leaning comfortably against his chest.
Cake Warehouse. He deserved a new good memory there, and we both could use a treat. The motor hummed between our legs. We built something that could last. I intended to keep working on it with him forever. After all, we could work hard and play hard: all it took was a few modifications.
