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“Oh, sorry.” He smiles. “I wanted to get this done before it gets too hot.”
I nod. “And why are you mowing my lawn, exactly?”
He shrugs. “I did it for Frank when it got this bad, I figured I’d continue the favor now that you are here.”
“The favor?” I shake my head.
I desperately need coffee! It’s too early for this conversation without it, or any conversation for that matter. “Look. I can take care of what’s mine. You take care of what’s yours. And in the future, ask me before you assume what Frank needed, I need.”
A hurt look fills his eyes and his mouth drops into a pout. “Does somebody need a cup of coffee?”
I think it was the baby talk that set my feet to moving. Before I even realized, I had slid up to where I stood inches from him, nearly chest to chest, except I was more chest to diaphragm, since he’s taller than me. “Look, wise cracker. I was asleep. I haven’t had any coffee because my timer was set for a more reasonable hour to get up… like seven or eight. Maybe even nine. Is that a crime, Officer? I believe disturbing the peace is a crime, should I put you under a citizen’s arrest? If I wasn’t so tired, I just might do that.”
I drew in air so I could continue with my rant. “Now, please, stop running that eardrum-bursting machine and go to bed. Weren’t you out all night on a case, or something?”
“As a matter of fact I was. How’d you know? Are you spying on me?” He smirks a foolish grin.
That grin was more than I could take. I do the mature, adult thing and slug him in the bare chest, growl as loud as I can, and swirl around to go back in my house. My fuzzy white slippers are stained with the fresh cut greenery, and that makes me even madder. Just to add a level of maturity to it all, I slam the door behind me.
Pouring my coffee at last, I glance out the window again to see him still staring at my house. “What is his problem!” I yell.
A shrug is his response, as he steers his lawn mower back to his place. “Good. And stay outta my yard.” I yell, shaking my fist, like Clint Eastwood in that movie about his older model Grand Torino.
Turning my back to the window, I sip my life-giving coffee. “What an arrogant, obnoxious,… jerk.”
I flop down on a stool at the kitchen bar and brood over Blaze’s chauvinistic assumption…
Well, that’s not exactly fair. He did say he mowed for Frank since he was seldom here. Maybe he was just trying to be nice? My mother’s voice echoes in the recesses of my mind.
“But he should have asked!” I say louder than necessary considering she’s not here and I’m basically talking to myself… again.
Then I spin around on my stool. “I’ve really got to stop talking to myself!”
With three cups of coffee and two slices of toast in my belly, I dress in shorts and a t-shirt that I don’t care about getting dirty, and trudge down the torture stairs with my red and black canvas tool bag. I’m gonna try to figure out what’s wrong with Kiley. The morning sun is warm and bouncing off the crushed rock driveway making me feel like I’m in a dry sauna. I open the garage door for a breeze.
“Good morning, ol’ girl.” I open Kiley’s hood.
Looking for anything obvious, I check to see if the battery cables are on right, spark plugs are okay, oil is full and clean, and brake fluid is good. Never hurts to pull the fluid sticks and check them since I’m under here anyway.
“Hmm.” I really don’t see why she is running so poorly. Just for the grins and giggles, I sit in my seat and try to turn the engine over.
She tries so hard to start up but can’t quite get there. Poor Kiley!
“I wonder?” I say to no one other than myself and shake my head. I’ve really gotta stop doing that. Back under the hood I unscrew and lift off the cover that goes over the ignition coils. They smell fried. Should I get Kate to take me to an O’Reilly’s and replace them myself or see if I can find someone who I can trust to do it for me? What if that’s not the problem, or it’s not all that’s wrong? What if she is about to throw a rod?
“Whatcha doing?” Blazes voice startles me.
I jerk and hit my head. “OW!” I turn and glare at him. “Don’t you ever knock?”
“You work on your own car?” He looks confused.
“Sometimes.” I rub the little bump on my head. “You know a decent mechanic? One who will listen to me and not try to rip me off?”
“Yeah, I know a guy.” Blaze walks to peer under Kiley’s hood. “Oh, here’s your mail, I picked it up for ya when I walked over.”
I glare at him and yank the stack of three business size envelopes from his outstretched hand. “Thanks, but I can get my own mail.”
“I know, just being neighborly.” He states matter-of-factly, swinging his eyes back to under Kiley’s hood. “You really know what you’re doing, or are you just fishing around in hopes you find the problem?”
