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***
Roman
Static and intermittent pops filter through the overhead speakers, interrupting the talking head DJs and holiday music. Snippets of local news, syndicated talk shows, and the occasional weather update play in the background, creating a mixed symphony of chaos and disconnected rhythm that matches the twisted unease in my gut.
Bea turns my world upside down on any given day we’re in close proximity, but her visit to the garage this morning, followed by her abrupt departure, leaves me unusually distracted. I’ve spilled more oil than I care to clean up, dropped more tools than I’d like to admit, and overlooked basic safety protocols that are usually second nature to me.
All of the errors due to distraction.Bea.
She’s always weaseled her way under my skin. At age eight, she was a thorn in my side. Blake’s, too. She was the tagalong sister who kept us honest and dateless.
It’s difficult enough for a gawky teen boy to attract pretty girls. Having a mouthy eight-year-old in tow didn’t make matters any better. My lack of a social life with girls wasn’tallBea’s fault. Blake and I were far from lady’s men. The girls we knew went for muscle-bound jocks with daddy’s money lining their pockets.
To be fair, Bea was a blessing in disguise. Instead of chasing tail, Blake and I pursued our passion. Cars, bikes, trucks–anything with wheels and an engine we could fine-tune. Hauling auto parts had its advantages, too. We beefed up without spending a dime on pricey gym fees. After graduation, we skipped college for trade school and never looked back.
My head was buried under hoods for so long, I didn’t notice Bea had grown up. One day Blake and I were traipsing through the woods behind his grandparents' place trying to ditch Bea. Next thing I know, Bea’s gliding down the stairs at her parents’ house decked to the nines on her way to senior prom with some lanky teenage boy who didn’t realize how damn lucky he was.
Jealousy raged inside me, much like it did this morning. The hot spike of possessiveness stabbing my heart and gut made me realize how much I’d taken Bea for granted. The day had come that she was no longer hot on my heels, mirroring my every move. What I thought was a thorn in my side became a bitter ache that continues to torment me, dreading the day she finds a man worthy of her. Knowing that day will come is vicious torture.
Ironic how karma gets the last laugh. NowI’mthe annoying needle prickling ather. Self-loathing coats my veins. I’m a broken-down mechanic with no future to offer her. I’m a sick, twisted fool with a heavy heart and a hard-on for my best friend’s sister. A man like me is sure to rot in hell for my lustful thoughts. But Bea’s body isn’t all I’m interested in. I want her and the whole package deal.
The radio crackles, sending a high-pitched buzz through the speakers. The garage phone rings simultaneously, adding to the irritating clamor. Blake grabs the phone as I catch the newest weather update.
“...weather service has issued a county-wide blizzard warning including Rolling Hills, Cranberry Corner, Snowflake Falls, and Kindlewood, effective immediately through the weekend...”
Large, wet snowflakes splat against the outer garage doors. The parking lot and street are covered in near-white-out conditions. Blake cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder while scribbling notes on a scrap of paper. My thoughts immediately return to Bea.
She doesn’t have any business driving in this mess. It’ll only be worse in the dark after Winslow Farm closes. I pull my phone from my pocket to text her as much but think better of it. The way she cut out of here this morning is a good indication that my warning will fall on deaf ears, even if it’s for her own good. Knowing Bea, she’s likely to do the opposite of what she’s told out of spite and to prove a point.
Blake finishes the phone call and tucks the scrap paper into his front pocket. He locks the front door and turns off the neon open sign. I toss my grease rag onto the bench where Bea sat hours ago, perched like a queen on her throne.
“Got a call for a tow in Rolling Hills.” Blake grabs keys from the wall rack and slips on his jacket. “By the looks of it, it’ll be a busy night. You need a ride later, or are you cutting out now before the roads get worse?”
The disadvantages of riding a motorcycle are few, but snow is among the biggest pitfalls by far. I should have driven the Jeep this morning but wanted one more ride before the worst of winter descended upon Snowflake Falls. Sometimes, I’m too stubborn for my own good.
“I’ll head out in a bit.” The city plow should be along anytime, giving me the best possible conditions in this weather.
“Check on Bea when you get the chance, will ya?” Blake opens the door to the festoon of swirling snow and icy air. “I don’t trust that rust bucket of hers.”
That rust bucket is in better shape than she appears. I’ve made sure of that. The truck’s old but in good repair with new tires and a fresh oil change. It’s a short drive from the farm to her place. She’ll only be out of cell service for fifteen minutes or so. Thirty, depending on road conditions.
The city sure as heck better have the plows running.
