Timing is Everything (closed for lusciously)

[gearhead73]

Timing is Everything (closed)

Timing is Everything

At thirty-four, Kevin Westlake was pretty happy with the way his life was turning out. He had a good job, with decent benefits, and although he would never have champagne wishes and caviar dreams, he did ok.
He had gotten lucky when he landed this job as a senior technician for a local municipality. Most of the time you had to know someone to get in, but Kevin had been somewhat of an Eli Whitney when it came to repair and fabrication, so he was hired on his merits. It was clear that they needed him too. The two idiots that he worked with must have been punching assholes in animal crackers before they got this gig. Needless to say, Kevin was pretty sure that he was on the fast track to a director position, and he couldn't wait. He could see him self driving a township car, burning township gas; which in turned freed up cash for the cabin in the mountains he had always wanted. As Kevin strode into the motor pool entrance, on a crisp Friday morning, he could envision all of his dreams coming true, except for one.

Kevin didn't have anyone to share his success with. He had come close a few times, but his desire for success had always gotten in the way. He would spend too much time at work, or helping his buddies fix their trucks. He was never able to commit himself to building a serious relatiionship because his ambitions had always come first and until he reached his goals, he felt they most likely always would.

He never seemd to have a lot of trouble meeting women though. He was in pretty good shape for his age and hours of lifting, pulling, and walking to the parts counter kept him looking pretty trim. He was a fairly good conversationalist and blessed with a wide ranging sense of humor and a razor sharp wit. He kept up on current events enough to engage in a spirited debate, with the right partner and paid just enough attention to pop culture to attract women younger than himself. So although Kevin had been able to find Mrs.Right just yet, he had been able to maintain a reasonable stream of Mrs. Right-nows flowing through his bedroom.

 

[gearhead73]

Paxton Archer finished giving her statement to the police.

"That deer came out of nowhere. I was tweeting about the new shoes I had found on clerance at Walmart, and when I looked up from my phone, there it was. I swerved to miss it and the six-pack kid over there..." she said pointing to the inebriated adolescent in the back of the patrol car,"...plowed right into me."

"Are you sure I can't call an ambulance for you?" the officer said as he finished writing the citation for distracted driving.

She shook her head. "I'll be alright. I'll get the car taken care of and I'll go to the emergency room." She held the scarf to her temple, looking at him with squinting eyes.

"Well at least let me..." He looked at the drunk driver in the back of his patrol car. "Oh, um, well let me call someone who can take you over there? I'll be taking him into custody."

Paxton nodded. "I can get a ride with the tow truck. It's okay. But thanks."

The policeman looked nervously at her head. "Are you sure? That's a nasty cut."

Paxton shook her head again. The tow truck pulled up and a middle aged man got out. He was dressed in filthy overalls and had a baseball cap on. His face was covered in a three day beard and a Winston wobbled precariously from the corner of his mouth.

'Damn rednecks,' Paxton thought. She smiled at him as he nudged his cap back, staring at her driver's side door and whistling through his teeth. The cop said a few parting words before getting in his car and driving off.

The mechanic looked at her, up and down and she immediately disliked him.

"Name's Randy," he said extending a greasy paw for her to shake. After being rebuffed he turned his attention to the car. "Holy shit! When you fuck one up you do it right, that's for sure. Let me guess, you swerved to miss a deer." he said with a knowing chuckle.

'Well, Randy, you're an observant boy. I bet you were just top of the class, weren't you...' she thought with irritation. "Obviously."

He tipped his cap back and smiled. He was missing a tooth. She hated these redneck ass towns. She hated West Virginia. That's why she had moved north, to get as far away as possible. He was looking at her again, but this time surveying her damage.

"Not a lot of experience with these rice rockets, but I can git it back together. I reckon it'll take about three weeks, give or take." He snorted, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Needs a helluva lotta work. New body. Engine'll need a good work." He paused for a moment and thought about his next question. "So, how'd the deer make out?"

Paxton leaned on the car. The throbbing pain in her temple seemed to be spreading through her head. "Drunk driver. Ploughed straight into my side." She figured short and sweet was enough. Randy looked at the cracked glass of the driver's window. It was bloody. Matched up with her head wound. "Do you mind if I ride back with you?"

"'Course not." He glanced at her again. "You get on into the cab. I'll hook the car up. Don't you fall asleep now."

She nodded, hauling herself into the cab. It stank of cigarette smoke and Hi-Karate aftershave that made cringe. Her shoulder and arm, even her leg were aching a little. Thankfully the adrenaline was still running, the pain hadn't really set in yet. She could look forward to that tomorrow.

It took about ten minutes to hitch the car up. Just long enough for her to get jittery and overly impatient. Randy hopped into the cab and radioed the workshop on his CB. "Audi, A3 Cabriolet. Be back in about ten minutes. Name's Archer." He hung up the walkie and looked at her. "Y'alright?"

She nodded, feeling decidedly like vomiting. "I'm okay. I'll get a taxi to the ER when we get back."

"We got a first aider too. He'll have a look-see. Just lemme know if ya gotta hurl." He forced the truck into gear and they took off. Paxton concentrated on her breathing and it seemed like it took no time to get back to the workshop. He got out of his side and was at her door in a moment, helping her out of the truck. She was starting to feel the accident now, and as his hand touched her ribcage as he lifted her down, her cry of pain was muffled by the surge of puke that splattered all over the legs of his overalls. Her head throbbed.

"Motherfucker!" he growled, pulling the arm of her good side over his shoulder. "Well, at least it wasn't inside the truck. C'mon now. Let's get you inside."

She could hear a gruff voice, an old guy, cursing. "What the fuck, Dolf! She should be in the ER, not bleeding and puking all over the shop!"

"Fuck off Kevin! Quit yer fuckin bitchin and get back in your office. Ain't like you're gonna have to clean it up anyway. Better yet, get your thumb outta your ass and bring me the first aid kit." He laid her down in the office on a couch that smelled like vinegar.

Paxton pulled her cellphone from her jeans pocket and dropped it on the floor, groaning. She sat up, her body complaining at her. Her sneakers were dirty and scuffed. She glanced at herself in the reflection of the door. Her dark hair was caked with blood, her brown eyes shadowy. She frowned, picking up her cell again and looking through it for a taxi number. She squinted, not able to see too well. Her head hurt.

"You look like shit, you sure you don't want me to take you to the hospital?"

She looked up at Randolf again and the smell of gasoline and cigarettes hit her. She retched.

"Told ya. She's in shock." The old man turned, facing away from the office. "This shit gives me the willies!"

"Goddammit," Paxton said. "Just get me a cab and get your goddamned hands off me..." Randy backed off, chuckling.

"No problem. Feel free to walk your happy ass right outta here if ya want, it's no skin off my nuts. But if you like a little help, how bout you check the attitude at the fuckin door and relax a bit."

"Well help me from downwind for god's sake...." She sat back in the sofa, holding the scarf to her head. Her white blouse was dirty and her arms were a little cut from broken glass.

"I'm sorry..." Randy looked at her with his toothless grin. "...earlier I swerved to miss a gas pump, and didn't turn in time. It must be the weather tonight."

"Just fix my car already... I want to get the hell out of this town."

 

[gearhead73]

Randy couldn't believe the attitude of this bitch. He was wet, cold, and walking around with his boots and coveralls covered in her puke. Ordinarily, he was gentle and symapthetic, because the people that he was trying to help often appreciated it. However, he could tell the minute that he pulled on the scene, that she was the sort that viewed everything as an inconvenience to her.

At 40 years old, he never expected to be working at all hours of the night for people who never seemed to grasp the concept that he was only there because they needed him. It hadn't always been that way, but all it took was telling the wrong guy to go fuck himself after being up for twenty four hours, and here he was.

He had been working at the township for close to fifteen years, and it was starting to take its toll. Every morning he looked in the mirror and wondered if was going to be able to hang in there until retirement age at sixty. If he could, he could leave with his pension and other retirement funds in tow and tell everyone here to kiss his ass.

It wasn't so much the job, as it was the people that he worked with. They all seemed convinced that they were better than everybody else and that only the things they did mattered. Kevin was a good case in point. The guy was a pretty good mechanic, but a bit of a bitch. He could fix just about anything, but whined and cried about it the whole time. Randy remembered telling more than once that if he worked his hands as fast as he worked his jaws, he would have a shitload more time to stand around.

Randy walked back to his locker and shed the puke covered coveralls and boots and slipped on his sneakers. It had been a long day and he just wanted to get home and forget that this evening and Ms. Deerdodger ever existed.

He couldn't believe how she had talked to him, eyeing him like he was seconds away from jumping her bones. He knew she wasn't from around here, and he figured that she assumed that everyone was chomping at the bit to play out scenes from Wrong Turn, or Deliverance. He usually liked to play up the role so they wouldn't be disappointed. She reminded him of another lady, a term that he used loosely her case, that had broken down just inside the township line. The local cops had called him and he went to tow her wherever she needed to go. She was from the UK and full of attitude. It turned out that she like to dip in the sauce a bit heavily and decided to drive on the wrong side of the road, like they do over there. She started dodging the oncoming traffic and ended up in a ditch, just inside his area. Randy had gone quite few rounds with her until finally calling the cops and having her arrested for DUI.

On his way out, he stopped by the couch that she had taken over as her own.

"I can drop you off at the hospital so you don't have to wait on a cab if you want me to...as long as you don't puke in my truck."