Chapter 1
Poppy
Always You by Trey Lewis
“If you keep driving this thing like a gorilla stole it, I’m going to call time of death on it,” I tell Jimmy as I think about how his truck practically limped into the bay yesterday, sounding like a dying cow swallowing a harmonica.
Random music spills from my office, coming from my little brother Owen’s phone, and I glance over, distracted, before turning back to Jimmy. “I mean it. You aren’t going to have this truck much longer if you don’t bring it in for regular maintenance.”
I swipe at a stray lock of hair that fell out of my ponytail and shout toward the office, “Owen, if you’re watching videos again instead of finishing your homework, I’m selling your Switch to buy new tires for the truck!”
And I really do need new tires. But no, I would never sell his game. I’m broke, but not heartless.
“I’m literally doing math,” he yells back with his sixth-grade attitude.
“You lie like an experienced politician.” I shake my head but can’t help smiling. There’s no way that kid is doing math right now. I see his thumb moving up and down over his phone as he’s kicked back in my office chair, feet up on my desk.
Jimmy laughs as he watches this play out. “Kid’s got your spunk, Poppy.”
“Oh, trust me. That kid inherited my attitude, temper, and my ability to detect bullshit. The world is screwed, Jimmy. There are two of us.”
Jimmy whistles. “Poor world.”
“Right?” I say in agreement as I twist my wrench hard and tighten a loose bolt. I’m getting Jimmy’s truck finished up, and it’s been a long day. I want to go home, eat dinner, shower away the day, and go to bed.
Jimmy chuckles. “I gotta say, Poppy, it’s no wonder you’re single. You’re a little scary.”
“Good,” I grunt. “Fear keeps the assholes away.”
“Well, if anyone is an asshole to you, Poppy, they’re gonna have to deal with me,” Jimmy says, looking like the protective grandpa-like figure that he is. And the truth is, Jimmy wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s a big jokester. A teddy bear.
I lean in, giving the engine one last look. The engine was hot and temperamental like a drunk, fire-breathing dragon when he brought it in. Basically, I’ve worked miracles here, and I deserve a giant gold star. Jimmy stands beside me, as if to offer his own mechanical wisdom. He absolutely will not be doing that. Jimmy doesn’t even come in for routine oil changes.
“I thought maybe it was the spark thingy,” he suggests, scratching his head, trying to be helpful.
I give him a deadpan look. “Yes, the spark thingy. Revolutionary wisdom, Jimmy.”
He lifts his hands, laughing. “All right, genius. Please enlighten me. What was wrong with it?”
“Everything,” I say, tightening one more bolt. “You wore it out driving like oil changes and routine maintenance are suggestions. Spoiler alert, they’re not. You need to get this in regularly, Jimmy, otherwise it’s going to the truck graveyard.”
“I need this truck, Poppy. I have had this old girl for over twenty years now,” he quips, eyebrows pinching with worry.
I crank the engine, and it starts right up, purring like a kitten. He whistles through his teeth. “You sure know what you’re doing.”
“I hear that a lot. Although usually it’s in an anxious tone and as a question,” I tease as I shut the hood and pat it.
“Nah, don’t listen to any of that nonsense. You’re a damn good mechanic. I sure am thankful for ya.”
“You’re welcome, Jimmy. Now, here’s a card with your next oil change scheduled on it so you do not forget, okay? Put it in your wallet. There’s even a sticker on your windshield to remind you.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He nods thoughtfully as he pulls out his card to pay.
As he’s leaving, he leans out the driver’s side window and says, “If you ever wanna date a good man, you give me a holler.”
“Well, you let me know if you meet any,” I reply sweetly.
His laughter booms and echoes through the bay as he drives his truck out, and I lower the garage door behind him.
