Handlebar looks up from beneath the hood of a red Buick when I pull up to the house the next morning. I vaguely recall it being at the garage in Sussex. If he’s brought that here, he’s in for the long haul. With Cassie being here full time for the foreseeable, I guess it makes sense.
He wipes his hands on a rag as I climb off and walk over.
“Nice car.”
“1955 Buick super convertible,” he points out. “Working on restoring it for a buyer.”
I peer in the window at the back. “Looks fucked up.”
“That’s the way I like them.”
The street is quiet, people who live here are normal everyday folk, probably out at work. Not sure they’ll appreciate an old car being on the driveway. Since when do I care?
“How was last night?” I ask, trying to bite back what else I want to ask, like if she is still going to stab me in the eye if I get too close to her.
“It was not what I would call fun.”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing in my position.” He looks at me with a frown. “I’m going to guess she didn’t giveyou the full details of that prick shouting at her and throwing a glass jug in her direction.”
His features contort from a confused frown to anger. “No.”
“I might have overreacted breaking his nose,” I duck my head. “I don’t regret it though.”
“Don’t say that to her.” He straightens up his tools and closes the hood of the Buick. “Your side of the story changes things.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“He got a bit annoyed, and you barged in and smashed him into a wall.”
“Typical lawyer,” I shake my head and he laughs, which surprises me.
“You’re gonna have to figure shit out because I’m not spending any amount of time with the two of you at each other’s throats.”
Running a hand through my hair I look up at the house. I need a shower and something to eat.
“I hear your brain procrastinating from here,” Handlebar grins.
“Get fucked,” I blow out a sigh. “I… Fuck I don’t know how to talk to her.”
“An apology will go a long way. A sincere apology.” He studies my expression. “It’s not hard Mace. Are you sorry?”
“Not for protecting her.”
“For getting her fired.”
“Shit, thanks for the reminder.”
“She is best off away from that asshole, and it’s not like she is out of work. If anything, I get the feeling she was looking for a way out.”
“How do you do that?” I ask. He looks confused. “Read her like that, how do you know what she’s thinking?”
“Body language, the things she says, how she looks. I’ve had years of practice watching people.”
I laugh. “That sounds creepy as fuck.”
“I study things, I like to understand them, that extends to people. It’s a good way to protect yourself.”
“That doesn’t come easy for me,” I admit.
