Being an adult sucked.
“Just to get me through for a bit,” she added.
“Molly, I think it really died,” Gavin said under his breath.
She shushed him.
The guy sold toaster tarts—he’d probably never owned a used car in his life. Also, he wasn’t a mechanic. Thus, he didn’t know what car death looked like.
If she ever needed to know what toaster tart death looked like? He’d be her go-to guy.
“Something just to get us through until itreallydies?” She gave Gavin a death look she hoped he understood.
He said nothing, so maybe her point got through.
The mechanic guy—nice, good-looking guy with a huge…estimate—gave her aneeshlook. “You could replace the battery. Patch up the leak. But I don’t know how long that would buy you.”
“What kind of timeframe would we be looking at?” Hours. Days. Months. Years?
He scratched at his temple. “Could get you a week. Could get you through the summer.”
Through the summer sounded great. She could save up, acquire some new sponsors, a few extra speaking engagements. Yes. They should do that one.
“What would that cost?” she asked.
He scribbled on the paper while she watched the number go down dramatically to one that didn’t make her want to hit the liquor store on the way home.
“I like that number.” She pointed to the number. “Let’s do that one.”
Mechanic guy scowled. “I can’t guarantee the work on a patch like this. You could be back here next week.”
“Or August.” She did little jazz hands because she was Molly.
He gave her a grin. Actually, he was kinda cute. Not Gavin handsome, but cute.
Gavin cleared his throat and nudged her arm. “Can I talk to you?”
“No.” She shook her head. Waved him away. “I’m negotiating.”
“Look, ma’am…” Mechanic guy said.
The ma’am thing? Yeah, he wasn’t so cute anymore.
“I have to be honest. This is your best bet.” Mechanic guy tapped the first number. “Or you scrap the car.”
Nope. Not cute at all.
“See. Sir,” she said, putting extra emphasis on the “sir” part. “The thing is, I have to be honest, too. I like this number better.”
And she could only drive sometimes, and carefully. Besides, she worked from home. She didn’t really need to go anywhere. Much.
“We can do the work, but you’ll have to sign a waiver.” Mechanic dude looked like he was sorry.
He didn’t need to be sorry. This was a solution everyone could get on board with.
“I like waivers.” She grabbed her wallet from her purse to deal with the damage. “Waivers are my favorite.”
Mechanic dude went to go handle the paperwork. She was ready to go home.
