Page 28 of Diesel's Perseverance
“Are you paying attention?” he asked, stepping back from her.
“Sort of.”
The fine lines on his forehead deepened.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up straighter on the stool and focusing on the computer screen. “Show me one more time, and then I’ll have it.” Myla grinned at him as he gave her an annoyed face. “I promise.”
“I have a shit load of things to do in the office and a car to detail for a big-paying customer, so you gotta focus.”
She raised her hand in a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Each item and transaction has to be registered here.”
Fifteen minutes later, Myla was ringing up car washes, detailing services, and miscellaneous items like a pro. The software was similar to one she’d used at a charity consignment store she once worked at part-time to fill the long hours when Freddy was away from the house. He’d balked at first, but she pouted for days until he finally relented. Whenever Myla wanted something he was against, she’d learned that pointing out the logic of a situation never worked, neither did yelling or crying, but pouting hit the spot. For some reason, Freddy couldn’t bare it when she did that. It was odd, but it was ammunition she started using more often, especially during the last six months before he took off.
“Where’s Miranda?” a guy with moppy blond hair asked. “Does she still work here?”
“She’s off today.” Myla scanned his full-service car wash and Snickers candy bar.
“I thought Wednesday was her day off.”
She shrugged. “I’m just filling in. I don’t know what the employees’ schedules are.”
The guy took the receipt and candy bar and shuffled to the inside window. She watched him press his face against the glass and gaze at the large brushes swishing against the sides and over the tops of the vehicles.I bet his car isn’t even dirty. Poor guy thought he’d see Miranda, and I spoiled his day.
“Everything going good?” Diesel placed a box on top of the counter.
Myla stared at his tanned skin glistening in a light sheen of sweat. He wore a white tank top that showed off a muscular chest and arms. A sleeve of ink moved with him on one arm, and on the other, a human skull wearing a crown of barbed wire decorated the bicep.
Her mouth was dust-dry, and she swallowed. “It’s all good.”
Pointing at the box, he said, “I need you to put this merch on the shelves behind you. Nothing’s heavy in there, but if you need anything, hit the button under the counter. Wheelie or I will come out.”
Nodding, she watched him walk away, admiring his long-legged confident stride and how his snug black jeans hugged his narrow hips and tight butt. Myla groaned inwardly. Since she’d started noticing boys, she was a sucker for a bad boy with a hard body and blue eyes.
Leaning back, a memory of her first kiss swirled through her mind. She’d just turned fifteen, and she and her friends had decided to go to the traveling carnival that had set up shop in their neighborhood.
Myla hadn’t been at the fair more than thirty minutes when a cute boy with artic blue eyes appeared at her side and asked her if she wanted a Coke and some cotton candy. He was three years older, had broad shoulders, and wore a black leather jacket. He smelled of weed, engine grease, and danger. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her toward the carousel. All the carnival workers called out to him, and he told her he worked and traveled eleven months out of the year. His name was Shane, and he kissed her across the saddles of two horses under the multi-colored flashing lights and the loud calliope music.
“I’d like to buy this.”
“What?” she asked, the memory skittering to the recesses of her mind.
“I’m in a hurry and want to get this card,” the woman said, tapping the counter. She stared at Myla, a look of impatience spreading across her overly made-up face.
“Sorry.” She scanned the barcode, then put the greeting card into a paper bag. “Four dollars and seventy-five cents.”
The woman dropped a five-dollar bill on the counter. Myla noticed her sparkly blue nail polish, and on the index finger of the lady’s right hand, a gaudy ring with a huge pink stone and cheap crystals surrounded it.
Myla opened the cash register, and the woman rushed out the door before she could hand the customer her change. She tossed the quarter into the tip jar, then began putting merchandise on the shelves.
A steady stream of customers came in and out of the business for the next two hours, which surprised her. Myla always washed her car on the weekends and never imagined that so many people brought their vehicles in on weekdays.
At the first lull, she walked over to the vending machine and purchased a pack of peanut butter and cheese crackers and a Diet Dr. Pepper.
“Didn’t Diesel tell you we’ve got snacks and drinks in the office?” Wheelie said, leaning against the front counter.
“No, but it’s cool.” She ripped open the package and pulled out a cracker.
