A light tap hit her passenger window just as she reached for her purse. Her heart beat a staccato tempo. She turned her head to find two of the band members there.
Here’s the thing. The parking lotwaswell lit, but her limbic system didn’t seem to care at all about that because she screamed like she was in a stupid thriller flick.
Oh. Thank goodness. The logical part of her brain took over, and her heart rate returned to a normal rhythm. They knew Brek. Therefore, they probably weren’t murderers.
Keyboard guy gestured for her to roll down her window. Tanner. Yes. His name was Tanner. She rolled down her window.
“Hey.” She did her very best to sound upbeat and not like a woman who was dealing with a misbehaving sedan on a freezing Colorado night. Mountain air was great when it wasn’t trying to freeze her blood from the outside in.
He said something about her engine, but she only understood about a quarter of the words. Seriously, it was like the guy spoke a foreign language, what with the talk of the crankshaft thingers and cable thingys and blah, blah, blah.
Finally, the other guy must’ve read the lost look in her expression because he chimed in, “We fix cars. Yours needs fixed.”
Oh. Well, this was handy. Maybe she wasn’t being screwed by the cosmic universe tonight.
“Well then, yes, my car seems to need your services,” she said.
“You know Tanner.” Guy number two said. “I’m Mach.”
Mach?
“Like breaking the sound barrier,” Mach added.
“Is that your actual name?” she asked because Mach was a pretty kick ass name, and it totally fit a rocker. Which probably meant it wasn’t his real name.
Mach gestured for her to exit the vehicle. “My dad was really into aviation.”
The band clearly wasn’t plotting her murder, so Becca opened the door and moved to pop the hood.
“Oh, we can’t fix it here. This is going to require the lift at the garage,” Tanner said, stopping her before she pushed the hood button thingy.
Seriously? A lift? That sounded… expensive. Weren’t all lifts expensive? Eye lifts, breast lifts, car lifts… This was totally going to drain her savings. Drain her savings and lift her anxiety.
She’d meticulously calculated exactly how much money she needed to get through the next six months while only waitressing. She figured that was plenty of time for her to be ready to hop back into life. But if she had to pay for whatever the lift thing was, then she’d be shaving weeks—maybe months—off of her timeline.
Which meant she’d have to sort her shit faster.
Which totally made her blood pressure rise.
This was not a holiday activity. This was a real-life activity.
“Are you okay?” Mach asked, concern clear in his blue eyes.
“You look like people do after we give them an estimate, not before,” Tanner added.
Mach had pulled a cell from his pocket—one that apparently had charge—and started dialing. “I’ll get Lucky to bring over the tow truck.”
“You met Lucky. He sings lead. It’s his garage.” Tanner stacked a couple of instrument cases beside her tire. He added quickly, “Lucky’s not his actual name.”
She figured that. But then she figured Mach was a nickname. What did she know?
“Becca?” Linx called, jogging from the sidewalk. “Everything okay?”
“My car won’t start.” Becca glared at the offending piece of machinery and metal. “These guys make musicandfix cars, though. There’s hope.”
Linx pulled a Kit Kat candy bar from the pocket of his leather coat.
“Hungry?” he asked.
