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“Damnit.”
Squatting down, I inspect the tire and spot a nailhead in the sidewall. Great. Looks like I will be shopping at the dealership for a new tire soon.
As I lug the spare and jack from the back of the car, I think over my travels in the last few days. Had I driven through any construction areas? Not that I recall. Nails didn’t always equate to work crews with hammers and drills. For all I know, I might have driven behind a work vehicle when a nail broke free. The likelihood seems far fetched, but what do I know?
Three videos on YouTube later, and the car hasn’t lifted more than an inch from the pavement. Not from a lack of trying. If only I had paid more attention to Dad when I got my first car. When he showed me, more than once, how to change the tire if I got a flat. Next time I see him, I will hang my head and ask for another demonstration.
Today is not that day. Today, I need help.
I open the insurance app on my phone and request roadside assistance. After I submit the request, the wait time flashes in red. Estimated time of arrival: 45 minutes. Spectacular. Not like I need to work or anything.
Back in the cab, I press the ignition and crank the air. The summer temperature is unseasonably warm for our part of Washington.
While I wait for assistance, I call work and update them on the delay. Considering it is after two, Roger tells me to take the rest of the day off and make up the time wherever possible. I really do love my job and boss.
Next, I call Lawrence. Not that I need to share every minute with him as it happens, but I would want to know if he had car trouble.
“Hey, little phoenix. What has my girl calling midday?”
The day is absolute shit, but Lawrence’s voice alone makes it better. The low timber and the way he calls me little phoenix. Both alleviate my stress. Both make me melt. And damn… I wish he was here.
“Maybe I just needed to hear your voice,” I purr over the line.
He chuckles. “Sweet as that is, I doubt that’s why you called.”
“No.” I exhale. The stress of the situation waning a bit. “Got a flat tire and I’m waiting on roadside. Tried to change it myself, but that went nowhere fast.”
“Need a ride? I’ll come get you.”
I shake my head, then remember he can’t see me. “No. I’ll be fine. Just hate sitting on the side of the road, waiting.”
Papers shuffle in the background, followed by the creak of leather. “Okay, but let me know when roadside arrives.”
“I will.” I peek into the rearview and see nothing but trees and empty highway.
“Come to the house tonight and I’ll make the day better with dinner, dessert, and cuddles on the couch.”
I bite my lip, thinking of Lawrence spooned behind me while we eat Twizzlers and watch television. “Can we watch the show I added the other night?”
“If you’re asking to watch I am a Killer, do you really think I’ll object? No man in his right mind would deny a woman who asks this. Not unless he wants his story told in a documentary.” He laughs, and I picture him shaking his head.
“Hey, mister. A lot can be learned by watching them. Don’t you ever wonder what makes someone commit such heinous crimes?”
“No, little phoenix, I don’t. I’m more curious why it fascinates you.”
I shrug and bite my lip. “Not sure. Just always been intrigued. Kind of like sharks. Sure, they’re deadly creatures, but there’s so much about them we don’t know or understand. Doesn’t mean you’ll catch me in the water with them.”
Long as I can remember, I have leaned toward the darker, scarier, and understudied parts of life. Found myself engrossed in the human psyche. The workings of nature. Questioned what makes a person commit atrocities—not because I want to help them better themselves, but to understand their thought process in the moment.
Does that mean I have a few screws loose myself? Perhaps. But if I did, I would never act on impulse.
“Text when roadside arrives. I’ll wrap up with work and see you after. Any dinner requests?”
After the day—hell, the week—I want comfort food. Carbs. Lots and lots of carbs. Delicious, low-nutrition calories to smother the whispers around town and patch the flat tire.
“Something with potatoes or pasta. Maybe both.”
Lawrence chuckles. “Potatoes and pasta. Check.” Silence sits between us for three breaths, followed by a heavy sigh from him. “See you in a bit.”
