Urgo squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the smell of sweat and camel cigarettes coming off the tow truck driver. The cold rain outside wasn’t helping. His mud soaked pants weren’t helping. The only thing that could help right now would be a time machine to take him back to two weeks ago so he could slap his uncle across the face when he offered to sell him his old Sorento. “She’s in great shape, Urgo,” he’d said. “Only two grand, since you’re family.”
“Fuck you, uncle,” Urgo mumbled to himself.
“What happened?” the driver asked. Urgo glanced at the other man who had plucked out his airpod to listen.
“Just cursing the guy who sold me the car,” Urgo said.
The driver shrugged dismissively, turning back to the anime on his phone, then indicated the front door of the garage with his chin. “That’s Mike.” He handed Urgo a stack of papers. “Maybe if you’re lucky his wife will be here today.”
Urgo’s eyebrows shot up. “Is she cute?”
The driver vainly tried to hold back a smile, but lost his composure almost immediately. A gutteral chuckle followed, then he shook his head. “Oh, man, I hope she’s here today. You could fuckin’ use it.”
Urgo hopped out of the truck, sighing as he landed in a puddle, the fresh, cold, dirty water jumping up his pant leg. He was already soaked almost to the crotch, and his shirt and pull-over sweatshirt were both immediately re-soaked by the falling rain. He checked for his keys, phone and wallet, waved to the driver, and then found his way into the garage’s lobby. The sun had just started rising in the south-east, and he couldn’t wait to get a cup of coffee.
Mike, the apparent owner, held the door open for Urgo as he came up. “That your SUV I see in my bay?” he asked, a slightly patronizing smile on his face.
“Yeah. I was on my way to move things for my friend and, well.” Urgo shrugged, rolled his eyes, and shrugged toward the bay
Mike laughed and patted Urgo on the shoulder, telling him to follow him to the bay.
Mike was in the buzz cut and diamond stud, he exuded an air of confidence and blue-collar refinement.
“What’s the good word?” Mike asked the technical guy who was looking at Urgo’s car.
He shook his head. “Ball joint must have snapped when you hit a pothole or something. Love those roads.”
Mike shook his head. “What am I even paying taxes for?” As he tucked his head down to look at the undercarriage as the car rose up, Mike let out a whistle. “Oh, yeah, it was a bad one. How fast were you going?”
Urgo squinted. “Like, eighty?”
“Ho ho ho, you’re lucky you didn’t roll,” Said the technical guy scrubbing at his mustache with a hand permanently discolored from his work. Then he perked up, looking toward the lobby. “Oh, shit! Hey, Linzi!”
Mike and Urgo both perked up and turned around. Mike with a huge smile and Urgo with mild interest that quickly turned to near disbelief at what he was seeing. She was short, there was no doubt about that. If she was 5’3″ he’d be shocked. But she was lean without being skinny. Her ass bounced side to side with a rhythmic sway, and her chest jiggled enticingly. She had the nut brown skin of a latina, and her dark, glossy hair was just long enough to brush her shoulders. While Urgo had been kicking himself for only wearing a hoodie, this lady seemed impervious to the cold. She wore a blue miniskirt with calf-high white boots, a black and white halter top that looked like it was painted on, and a white winter coat with a pomeranian’s worth of fur around the collar and cuffs hanging off her elbows. Her makeup was striking without being over the top, and a silver stud in her nose and silver studs in her eyes sparkled under the shop lights.
“Hey, babe,” She said, walking up to Mike and giving him a wet kiss on the lips. She half-turned the technical guy and slapped him full on the ass with a mischievous smile. “Gray.”
“Linzi,” Gray said, his eyes sliding down her once in appreciation.
