Page 32 of Girl, Expendable

Clara found her vehicle, slipped inside, and waited until it warmed up. While she did so, she turned up whatever CD happened to be in her stereo. The Best of the ‘90s. It would do for the short journey home. When the car was finally warm, she put it in reverse, backed up, her mind a clutter of hopes, stellar reviews, wild applause. If only, she thought.

Then she felt the bump.

“Oh crap,” she said. Had she run over something? She put the car in park, pulled the hand brake, and got out. She walked behind the vehicle and checked underneath. Nothing. God knows she’d hit a few pigeons in her time around here but the distinct lack of feathers reassured her that it was a harmless bump.

Then Clara saw it.

She had a flat.

She glanced up and down the street. No one. A few cars but no people. She could go back into the Three Furnaces and ask for help, but she didn’t want to run into that creepy old guy who kept making passes at her.

She didn’t even know if there was a spare tire in the trunk. The car was a two-year-old compact and she hadn’t ever had to change one of its tires before.

“Having a problem?” a voice asked.

Clara spun around, a little startled. A man was getting out of the white van just across the way. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers. Where the hell did this guy come from? He’d appeared like a magician, and the flowers only added to the visual.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey.” He pointed at her tire. “Doesn’t look too good.”

“It’s only flat on the bottom,” she said. “I can probably sort it.”

“I’m really good at these things,” he said. “I’d be happy to help.”

Clara checked her reflection in the car window. She was wearing her white wool coat. Her best. She could just imagine the grease on the front. And the dry-cleaning bill. More expense. Of course, she had long ago let her AAA premium run out. She had never once used it when she was paying for it. And now, of course, she needed it.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Clara said.

“It’s no big deal,” he said. “You’re not exactly dressed for automotive repair.”

Clara saw him sneak a covert glance at his watch. If she was going to snag him for the task, it had better be soon. “Sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble?” she asked.

“No trouble at all.” He held up the bouquet. “I was just taking these to my girlfriend’s place. She’s mad at me,” he laughed.

Clara looked around the street again. It was all but deserted. As much as she hated to play the helpless female – she knew how to change a tire, after all – she could use the help.

“You’re going to have to let me pay you for this,” she said.

The man held up a hand. “I wouldn’t hear of it. That’s what we do around here. We help each other out.”

Thank God, she thought. “This is very nice of you.”

“Pop the trunk,” he said. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

Clara reached in the window, flipped the trunk lever. She walked to the back of the car. The man grabbed the jack, pulled it out. He looked around for somewhere to put down the flowers. It was an enormous bouquet of gladiolas wrapped in bright white paper.

“Do you think you could throw these in my van for me?” he asked. “If I got them dirty, Charlotte would be even more pissed. That’s the last thing I need.”

“Sure,” Clara said. She took the flowers from him, turned toward the van.

“You could just put them in the back. The door’s open.”

“Oh,” she said. “Okay.”

“I’ll need to kill the engine too. That okay?”

“Sure.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com