Salvaged
Page 30
As awesome as that daydream was, I really did have to get to work, so pushing Poppy and letting her figure out how far she was willing to go with me was going to have to wait. “Have a good day, honey.”
She stared at me silently for a drawn-out moment, then she shook her head quickly like she was trying to shake off whatever sexual haze I had wrapped her up in and blinked those stunning eyes at me. “You too, Wheeler.”
I would, because it started out with her.
I got stuck in traffic, so I ended up being late for my meeting but it didn’t matter. The car collector still picked up the ’67 Ford Fairlane and made a ridiculous offer on the Wayfarer even though it wasn’t close to being done. I was on my way to the office to mainline a gallon of coffee when I got waylaid by another visitor who was obviously from out of town but knew his shit when it came to classic muscle cars. He mentioned he was in town visiting a friend that had recently relocated and that one of the guys at the tattoo shop where I went for my work gave him my name and told him if he was a car guy he needed to see my setup. The dude was big, looked like a felon, but talked engines and horsepower as well as I did. He was driving a shitty rental but his pretty redheaded girlfriend wasted no time in telling me that she inherited a ’69 Super Bee when she and the bruiser got together. When I asked what kind of ride he rolled around in, they both cringed and he grumbled something about a bad accident totaling his car but didn’t elaborate. I was smart enough not to pry.
The guy might have secretly scared the piss out of me but the hour and a half I spent showing him all my pride-and-joy projects was really enjoyable. It wasn’t often I met someone that was as committed to bringing the old beasts back to life the same way I was. I felt like he was a kindred spirit and his girlfriend was sweet. She didn’t say much but when she did the monster of a man smiled and answered her questions thoughtfully and patiently. It was pretty clear he loved two things with equal passion, muscle cars and the girl standing by his side. He was careful with her in the same way I was careful with Poppy.
After they left I once again went in search of coffee, the sugar rush from my doughnut starting to wear off, but was interrupted in my quest by another unexpected visitor. I spotted the Hudson long before it pulled into the lot. I paused in front of one of the bays and waited while the beautiful machine coasted to a smooth stop in front of me. Whoever took care of making the motor run was good … really good. There wasn’t a single knock or whine, which was rare for a car that still had so many of its original parts.
I lifted my chin as the guy from before climbed out and made his way over to where I was waiting. “You’re back.”
Once again he had mirrored aviators on, so I couldn’t read his expression but he did give a little nod. “I am. I actually have a lead on a car that I thought you might be interested in.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes. I didn’t take on special projects for profit. I wanted to sink my time and my money into cars that I felt really needed me. I didn’t want to build any kind of flashy hot rod for a weekend warrior, not that this guy gave off the entitled vibes those wannabe gearheads had.
“I usually track down my own builds. I’m picky about what I want to take on. I usually have to work on them on the side because it’s the regular maintenance and customer cars that pay the bills. I tend to only invest my time and money into one car at a time. I’ve been babying that Wayfarer for six months.”
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t put my finger on why I was so sure I knew him from somewhere. I figured it had to be my imagination because this was the second time he’d sought me out and he hadn’t indicated that our paths might have crossed before. I could see my own puzzled expression in the reflection of the mirrored sunglasses he didn’t bother to take off.
“I understand that, but this is an opportunity I doubt you’ll want to pass up. I know someone that’s getting rid of a ’52 Hudson convertible. The original body and chassis are intact but the motor is all tore to hell and patchworked together from different years and different makes and models. It’s scrap. I don’t have the space or the time to take it on since I’m sort of in limbo at the moment, but I thought you might.” His dark eyebrows lifted and his teeth flashed as he gave me a knowing grin. “I mean a guy named Hudson should own one … it only seems right.”
I blew out a whistle and rocked back on my heels. That was an offer that was practically impossible to say no to. “That’s quite a score. Why would you want to pass it on to a guy you don’t know?”
He lifted a silver-and-black eyebrow as he told me, “I have eyes and I know my shit, kid. You take care of your cars regardless if they are a classic or a daily driver. You’re putting out beautiful work, and honestly, I’m dying to see what you could do with the ’52. I know the seller really well, so I can probably get a few grand knocked off the asking price.”
I watched him, still trying to place where I could know him from, when it occurred to me I didn’t even know his name. He’d taken off after I told him I was named after his car the last time he visited.
“I didn’t catch your name the last time you stopped by. Seems like I should know it if you’re offering me a score and a deal.” I cocked my head to the side and considered him through narrowed eyes. “Are you famous or something? I can’t shake this feeling that I’ve seen you somewhere before. You look very familiar.”
The man let out a rusty-sounding laugh and shook his head. He offered a hand and his grip when we shook was firm and confident. I wasn’t sure if it was my overly tired mind playing tricks on me or not but I could have sworn the guy gave my hand an extra squeeze there at the end before letting go.
“Name’s Zak Brady.” He waited a second to see if I would have any reaction to the name and when I didn’t he sighed and shifted his weight uneasily on his booted feet. “I’m not famous but I’ve made a decent name for myself in certain circles where horsepower is king. I’m not sure anyone would be familiar with it outside of California, but if you ever head out to the West Coast, people will point you in the direction of my garage the same way they pointed me toward yours.” He grinned at me and I found myself staring stupidly because I knew that face was one that I was familiar with. It was making me bonkers that I couldn’t place him. “I must have one of those faces, the kind that reminds someone of someone they think they know.”
She stared at me silently for a drawn-out moment, then she shook her head quickly like she was trying to shake off whatever sexual haze I had wrapped her up in and blinked those stunning eyes at me. “You too, Wheeler.”
I would, because it started out with her.
I got stuck in traffic, so I ended up being late for my meeting but it didn’t matter. The car collector still picked up the ’67 Ford Fairlane and made a ridiculous offer on the Wayfarer even though it wasn’t close to being done. I was on my way to the office to mainline a gallon of coffee when I got waylaid by another visitor who was obviously from out of town but knew his shit when it came to classic muscle cars. He mentioned he was in town visiting a friend that had recently relocated and that one of the guys at the tattoo shop where I went for my work gave him my name and told him if he was a car guy he needed to see my setup. The dude was big, looked like a felon, but talked engines and horsepower as well as I did. He was driving a shitty rental but his pretty redheaded girlfriend wasted no time in telling me that she inherited a ’69 Super Bee when she and the bruiser got together. When I asked what kind of ride he rolled around in, they both cringed and he grumbled something about a bad accident totaling his car but didn’t elaborate. I was smart enough not to pry.
The guy might have secretly scared the piss out of me but the hour and a half I spent showing him all my pride-and-joy projects was really enjoyable. It wasn’t often I met someone that was as committed to bringing the old beasts back to life the same way I was. I felt like he was a kindred spirit and his girlfriend was sweet. She didn’t say much but when she did the monster of a man smiled and answered her questions thoughtfully and patiently. It was pretty clear he loved two things with equal passion, muscle cars and the girl standing by his side. He was careful with her in the same way I was careful with Poppy.
After they left I once again went in search of coffee, the sugar rush from my doughnut starting to wear off, but was interrupted in my quest by another unexpected visitor. I spotted the Hudson long before it pulled into the lot. I paused in front of one of the bays and waited while the beautiful machine coasted to a smooth stop in front of me. Whoever took care of making the motor run was good … really good. There wasn’t a single knock or whine, which was rare for a car that still had so many of its original parts.
I lifted my chin as the guy from before climbed out and made his way over to where I was waiting. “You’re back.”
Once again he had mirrored aviators on, so I couldn’t read his expression but he did give a little nod. “I am. I actually have a lead on a car that I thought you might be interested in.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes. I didn’t take on special projects for profit. I wanted to sink my time and my money into cars that I felt really needed me. I didn’t want to build any kind of flashy hot rod for a weekend warrior, not that this guy gave off the entitled vibes those wannabe gearheads had.
“I usually track down my own builds. I’m picky about what I want to take on. I usually have to work on them on the side because it’s the regular maintenance and customer cars that pay the bills. I tend to only invest my time and money into one car at a time. I’ve been babying that Wayfarer for six months.”
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t put my finger on why I was so sure I knew him from somewhere. I figured it had to be my imagination because this was the second time he’d sought me out and he hadn’t indicated that our paths might have crossed before. I could see my own puzzled expression in the reflection of the mirrored sunglasses he didn’t bother to take off.
“I understand that, but this is an opportunity I doubt you’ll want to pass up. I know someone that’s getting rid of a ’52 Hudson convertible. The original body and chassis are intact but the motor is all tore to hell and patchworked together from different years and different makes and models. It’s scrap. I don’t have the space or the time to take it on since I’m sort of in limbo at the moment, but I thought you might.” His dark eyebrows lifted and his teeth flashed as he gave me a knowing grin. “I mean a guy named Hudson should own one … it only seems right.”
I blew out a whistle and rocked back on my heels. That was an offer that was practically impossible to say no to. “That’s quite a score. Why would you want to pass it on to a guy you don’t know?”
He lifted a silver-and-black eyebrow as he told me, “I have eyes and I know my shit, kid. You take care of your cars regardless if they are a classic or a daily driver. You’re putting out beautiful work, and honestly, I’m dying to see what you could do with the ’52. I know the seller really well, so I can probably get a few grand knocked off the asking price.”
I watched him, still trying to place where I could know him from, when it occurred to me I didn’t even know his name. He’d taken off after I told him I was named after his car the last time he visited.
“I didn’t catch your name the last time you stopped by. Seems like I should know it if you’re offering me a score and a deal.” I cocked my head to the side and considered him through narrowed eyes. “Are you famous or something? I can’t shake this feeling that I’ve seen you somewhere before. You look very familiar.”
The man let out a rusty-sounding laugh and shook his head. He offered a hand and his grip when we shook was firm and confident. I wasn’t sure if it was my overly tired mind playing tricks on me or not but I could have sworn the guy gave my hand an extra squeeze there at the end before letting go.
“Name’s Zak Brady.” He waited a second to see if I would have any reaction to the name and when I didn’t he sighed and shifted his weight uneasily on his booted feet. “I’m not famous but I’ve made a decent name for myself in certain circles where horsepower is king. I’m not sure anyone would be familiar with it outside of California, but if you ever head out to the West Coast, people will point you in the direction of my garage the same way they pointed me toward yours.” He grinned at me and I found myself staring stupidly because I knew that face was one that I was familiar with. It was making me bonkers that I couldn’t place him. “I must have one of those faces, the kind that reminds someone of someone they think they know.”
