LJ Idol Week 23 - The fiction of the fix
Oct. 2nd, 2014 11:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jexia"Damnit!" Jessica grumbled as she tried to back her van out of the driveway. The rain was bucketing down, clouding the rear window, and the rear wiper wouldn't work. She clicked the switch a few more times; nothing. The dark, smudgy view wasn't helpful, but she made her best guess and backed out onto the road.
Thankfully the windscreen wipers were working, but even they battled to keep up with the downpour. "Better get that fixed tomorrow," she thought. "So long as Gavin actually pays this time." Money was pretty tight in her village, and there weren't many jobs around. She relied on the casual pay from whatever gigs she could get.
She carefully navigated the slippery roads, not at all inclined to the leadfootedness that had seen her get more than a few tickets over the years. The white lines disappeared in the reflected glare of her headlights, and she was relieved to see the glowing windows of the local pub. Rainbow streaks of chalk on the blackboard out front were all that were left of the "LIVE MUSIC TONITE" she'd seen Gavin scrawling earlier.
Jessica scowled as she looked for a carpark nearby; she was going to have to make a run for it, and with her guitar and amp, too. She found a space, stopped the van, and shrugged into her jacket. At the back of the van, she lifted the rear wiper and gave it an optimistic wiggle. You never knew. She opened the back door, slung the strap of her guitar case over her shoulder and hoisted her amp into her arms. Damn. She balanced the amp carefully against the side of the van with one arm, and reached up to shut the door.
She staggered her way to the pub, half-wading. The air inside hit her with a humid warmth and a blast of beer stench. It smelt like home. Gavin nodded and waved from behind the bar, and one of the local lads took the amp from her and carried it to the front, where a couple of carpet-covered pallets formed what passed for a stage around here. Nearly show-time.
Jess set up, tuned her guitar, closed her eyes and struck a chord. The bar quietened infinitesimally, and she felt the magic pour through her, exuding from fingers and throat. Silence fell. An hour passed without her noticing. She sang, she played, she bantered with the audience. The lads gave as good as they got, with the long familiarity of past schoolmates; she barely noticed the unfamiliar person sitting quietly, transfixed against the bar.
She needed a drink. At the bar, Gavin slid over a beer, most unlike his usual frugal self. She grinned at him, but he shook his head and pointed at the stranger. Jess raised an eyebrow, drained the glass and went back to the stage. As she quickly checked the tuning on her guitar, she took the chance to surreptitiously study the stranger; about her age, dark hair and eyes, clean shirt and jeans. Too clean, not really her cup of tea. She liked a bit of grittiness.
The rest of her show sped past. The local lads, buoyed by beer, had bellowed through the choruses with volume, if not tunefulness. The stranger had grinned, entertained but not lubricated enough by liquor to join in. The same beer sat by his elbow all night.
Gavin gave her a meaningful wave, and she wrapped it up. He'd been in trouble recently for breaching the terms of his liquor license, and now he was very careful to have everyone out and on their way before one. The bar emptied as she packed up her stuff, humming to herself. Gavin shuttled between tables and bar, stacking glasses, collecting bottles, and wiping up the sticky remnants of yet another night.
Her ears perked as she heard the ring of the cash register; looked like she was going to get paid tonight! Gavin passed her a bundle of notes, and she tucked it into her pocket.
"Thanks, Gav." Jess bent to pick up her amp, but paused to adjust her guitar as it swung forward.
"Let me get that for you," he offered. Jess gratefully accepted, and they braved the wet darkness together. She lifted the van door and Gavin slid her amp in. "Good show tonight," he said. Jess grinned. It had been. She waved as she backed around; damnit, that rear wiper still wasn't working.
=======
She slept late. "One of the prerogatives of night work," she always justified to herself. Over coffee, she reviewed her mental to-do list: clean the bathroom, put the rubbish out, get the wiper fixed. Despite the weather, going out was more appealing than housework, always. Mechanics first, then.
It was close enough that she could drive there and walk home. She wandered into Tom's Garage and greeted the greasy overalls buried head-first in the engine of Mrs Smith's old red Holden, and then jumped as the person stood up. It wasn't Tom; it was the guy from the pub.
"Uh... hi," they both said, and then laughed.
"Where's Tom?" she asked.
"His sister broke her ankle, so he's gone to go babysit, if you can believe it. He asked me to come help out."
Jess laughed. "I'm not sure I do believe it! Um... I'm Jess."
He smiled shyly. "I know. I, uh, saw you last night. I'm, uh, Jamie." He held out an oily hand to shake, and then, horrified, took it away again. "Um. What can I do for you?"
"The rear wiper on my van isn't working. Might be a fuse or something. No biggy but it's a bit annoying."
He nodded. "I can fix that, no worries."
Jess gave him the van keys, and after a few more pleasantries, tightened her jacket hood and headed home through the rain. She spent the afternoon completing the housework from her to-do list, interspersed with Candy Crush and Facebook, her guilty pleasures. Come half-past four, she headed back to the garage.
Jamie smiled, swiping hair off his forehead and replacing it with a streak of grease, and she had to revise her opinion of him. She had a soft spot for what she mentally called "hands-on men", with an accompanying frisson of innuendo. Yum.
"Hi. Um. It should be all good now," he said, fishing her keys out of his pocket and handing them over. She weighed them in her hand for a moment, conscious of their warmth.
"Great! Thanks so much. Uh, how much is that?"
"Oh. Um. Don't worry about it. It was a minor fix," he said.
Jess laughed. "Tom won't like that!"
"Really, it was no problem." They stood for a moment and smiled at each other. He opened his mouth and was about to speak, when Mrs Smith bustled in to collect her car, hair all askew as usual. With a smile and tiny wave, he turned to speak to her.
Jess drove home, very thoughtful.
=======
Another morning, another to-do list: milk, bread, post that letter to her grandma. Jess squinted out the window; raining again, really? She sighed and got ready to go.
As she backed out of the driveway, the rear wiper swished, once, twice- and froze halfway through a swipe. Jess thumped the steering wheel and growled. She kind of liked Jamie; she didn't want to see incompetence.
He didn't look surprised as her van pulled up outside, but came over wiping his hands on a rag. As she opened her mouth, he spoke first, barely meeting her eyes. "I'm really sorry. I have a confession to make. I only sort of fixed your van. I, um, really wanted to see you again, and I'm really shy, and I didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry. It was really unprofessional of me."
Jess gaped at him for a second, and then grinned. "Well, I can hardly demand my money back, can I?" She tossed him the keys. "Fix it properly this time, OK?"
He nodded, looking abashed. "I'm really sorry. It won't happen again."
Jess laughed. "How about I hang out here while you fix it? I can keep an eye on you, make sure you do it properly."
His eyes sparkled. "I'd like that."
Thankfully the windscreen wipers were working, but even they battled to keep up with the downpour. "Better get that fixed tomorrow," she thought. "So long as Gavin actually pays this time." Money was pretty tight in her village, and there weren't many jobs around. She relied on the casual pay from whatever gigs she could get.
She carefully navigated the slippery roads, not at all inclined to the leadfootedness that had seen her get more than a few tickets over the years. The white lines disappeared in the reflected glare of her headlights, and she was relieved to see the glowing windows of the local pub. Rainbow streaks of chalk on the blackboard out front were all that were left of the "LIVE MUSIC TONITE" she'd seen Gavin scrawling earlier.
Jessica scowled as she looked for a carpark nearby; she was going to have to make a run for it, and with her guitar and amp, too. She found a space, stopped the van, and shrugged into her jacket. At the back of the van, she lifted the rear wiper and gave it an optimistic wiggle. You never knew. She opened the back door, slung the strap of her guitar case over her shoulder and hoisted her amp into her arms. Damn. She balanced the amp carefully against the side of the van with one arm, and reached up to shut the door.
She staggered her way to the pub, half-wading. The air inside hit her with a humid warmth and a blast of beer stench. It smelt like home. Gavin nodded and waved from behind the bar, and one of the local lads took the amp from her and carried it to the front, where a couple of carpet-covered pallets formed what passed for a stage around here. Nearly show-time.
Jess set up, tuned her guitar, closed her eyes and struck a chord. The bar quietened infinitesimally, and she felt the magic pour through her, exuding from fingers and throat. Silence fell. An hour passed without her noticing. She sang, she played, she bantered with the audience. The lads gave as good as they got, with the long familiarity of past schoolmates; she barely noticed the unfamiliar person sitting quietly, transfixed against the bar.
She needed a drink. At the bar, Gavin slid over a beer, most unlike his usual frugal self. She grinned at him, but he shook his head and pointed at the stranger. Jess raised an eyebrow, drained the glass and went back to the stage. As she quickly checked the tuning on her guitar, she took the chance to surreptitiously study the stranger; about her age, dark hair and eyes, clean shirt and jeans. Too clean, not really her cup of tea. She liked a bit of grittiness.
The rest of her show sped past. The local lads, buoyed by beer, had bellowed through the choruses with volume, if not tunefulness. The stranger had grinned, entertained but not lubricated enough by liquor to join in. The same beer sat by his elbow all night.
Gavin gave her a meaningful wave, and she wrapped it up. He'd been in trouble recently for breaching the terms of his liquor license, and now he was very careful to have everyone out and on their way before one. The bar emptied as she packed up her stuff, humming to herself. Gavin shuttled between tables and bar, stacking glasses, collecting bottles, and wiping up the sticky remnants of yet another night.
Her ears perked as she heard the ring of the cash register; looked like she was going to get paid tonight! Gavin passed her a bundle of notes, and she tucked it into her pocket.
"Thanks, Gav." Jess bent to pick up her amp, but paused to adjust her guitar as it swung forward.
"Let me get that for you," he offered. Jess gratefully accepted, and they braved the wet darkness together. She lifted the van door and Gavin slid her amp in. "Good show tonight," he said. Jess grinned. It had been. She waved as she backed around; damnit, that rear wiper still wasn't working.
=======
She slept late. "One of the prerogatives of night work," she always justified to herself. Over coffee, she reviewed her mental to-do list: clean the bathroom, put the rubbish out, get the wiper fixed. Despite the weather, going out was more appealing than housework, always. Mechanics first, then.
It was close enough that she could drive there and walk home. She wandered into Tom's Garage and greeted the greasy overalls buried head-first in the engine of Mrs Smith's old red Holden, and then jumped as the person stood up. It wasn't Tom; it was the guy from the pub.
"Uh... hi," they both said, and then laughed.
"Where's Tom?" she asked.
"His sister broke her ankle, so he's gone to go babysit, if you can believe it. He asked me to come help out."
Jess laughed. "I'm not sure I do believe it! Um... I'm Jess."
He smiled shyly. "I know. I, uh, saw you last night. I'm, uh, Jamie." He held out an oily hand to shake, and then, horrified, took it away again. "Um. What can I do for you?"
"The rear wiper on my van isn't working. Might be a fuse or something. No biggy but it's a bit annoying."
He nodded. "I can fix that, no worries."
Jess gave him the van keys, and after a few more pleasantries, tightened her jacket hood and headed home through the rain. She spent the afternoon completing the housework from her to-do list, interspersed with Candy Crush and Facebook, her guilty pleasures. Come half-past four, she headed back to the garage.
Jamie smiled, swiping hair off his forehead and replacing it with a streak of grease, and she had to revise her opinion of him. She had a soft spot for what she mentally called "hands-on men", with an accompanying frisson of innuendo. Yum.
"Hi. Um. It should be all good now," he said, fishing her keys out of his pocket and handing them over. She weighed them in her hand for a moment, conscious of their warmth.
"Great! Thanks so much. Uh, how much is that?"
"Oh. Um. Don't worry about it. It was a minor fix," he said.
Jess laughed. "Tom won't like that!"
"Really, it was no problem." They stood for a moment and smiled at each other. He opened his mouth and was about to speak, when Mrs Smith bustled in to collect her car, hair all askew as usual. With a smile and tiny wave, he turned to speak to her.
Jess drove home, very thoughtful.
=======
Another morning, another to-do list: milk, bread, post that letter to her grandma. Jess squinted out the window; raining again, really? She sighed and got ready to go.
As she backed out of the driveway, the rear wiper swished, once, twice- and froze halfway through a swipe. Jess thumped the steering wheel and growled. She kind of liked Jamie; she didn't want to see incompetence.
He didn't look surprised as her van pulled up outside, but came over wiping his hands on a rag. As she opened her mouth, he spoke first, barely meeting her eyes. "I'm really sorry. I have a confession to make. I only sort of fixed your van. I, um, really wanted to see you again, and I'm really shy, and I didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry. It was really unprofessional of me."
Jess gaped at him for a second, and then grinned. "Well, I can hardly demand my money back, can I?" She tossed him the keys. "Fix it properly this time, OK?"
He nodded, looking abashed. "I'm really sorry. It won't happen again."
Jess laughed. "How about I hang out here while you fix it? I can keep an eye on you, make sure you do it properly."
His eyes sparkled. "I'd like that."