By the time lunch came around, most of the Beetle’s engine parts were scattered around on various flat surfaces for safekeeping so that he could access the timing belt. He’d pulled the worn out belt, and pulled and set aside the tensioner pulley, too. There was no use having her come in next week because it had dried out and caused new problems for the new belt. He’d wait to check for leaks and cracks in the system until after lunch, just in case.
He kept talking all the while, bouncing conversation back to her and admittedly basking in the warmth. It was few and far between that he came across the kind of direct heat that could make the cold slough off like thawing snow. That was only one of the benefits to her company, though. It seemed like they’d frequented some of the same parks in Columbus, but in a city of almost a million people, it wasn’t a surprise they’d never crossed paths. The world was small, but not that small. And he’d described a few of the Pittsburgh parks as well, the ones he’d found that had busy trails that gave way to quieter ones.
She left for a while to stretch her legs, and Todd took the opportunity to step into the back of the shop and shower off the grease and oil, at least the top coat. The rest would wait until he had more time at the end of the day, but at least he wouldn’t have visible black streaks along his face and up his arms when he went out for lunch.
When Sam came back, Todd was dressed in his more usual attire, and was in the process of locking up the body of the shop. The time alone had made room for doubts, but he’d recovered by the time she came around. His cap was under his arm while he finished locking up the shop, the “Out to lunch, be back at 1” sign clearly visible in the window from the front.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He flashed her a smile as he flipped the cap on and stepped up to the bay doors. Vik’s garage still opened and closed manually, although he did have a pretty neat security system that kept the antiques that came through safe on breaks or when they had to be left overnight. Todd closed it, then led the way across the parking lot to his own vehicle, fishing in his pockets for his keys.
If a mechanic drove a new car, they weren’t good enough at their job. Everywhere Todd went he’d heard that, though he’d purchased the Malibu before he’d ever made up his mind to become a mechanic. 2002 was hardly an antique, but it didn’t have to be antique for him to have to make repairs every so often. Parts taken out of his salary in installments were usually part of his deal with whatever shop took him in. That was how he met –
Nope. No, nah, not happening. Bad enough Summer kept coming up, he didn’t let his mind wander to Arlo again.
The Malibu was an unassuming little car, everything that people assumed of a sedan. Simple grey, too faded to be silver anymore, and with the long-nosed look of an odd old animal, it didn’t draw too many eyes, except when people noticed it was a twenty-year-old car running in good condition. Most important, it smelled like him. The different layers of Todd that had existed over the last eight years, the different air fresheners. Only if someone had Todd’s nose would they notice the smell of blood. Not just his blood, either – not like Sam’s Beetle, which carried the scents on the filters he’d had to pull to get to the alternator.
The duffel bag was back at his apartment, hidden well enough that he didn’t worry about it too often during the day. Maintenance wouldn’t stumble upon it, and nobody breaking in would check for it where he’d put it. If they did, they’d have bigger problems than realizing what was inside it, as long as they didn’t call the cops. Which statistically they shouldn’t do, because they’d be arrested for breaking and entering.
He clicked the doors unlocked, then slipped into the front seat, folding into the little car like a scarecrow rather than a real person. It was clearly a maneuver he was used to, as familiar as walking. The interior was what most expected, plastic dash and door liners that weren’t pretty but were serviceable until he had the money to spare for cosmetics. The seats were fabric, which remembered scents better than the leather of the Bug, but Todd had never come across another meta with his kind of senses, so he wasn’t too worried about it. He took a deep breath of the stale car air as he started her up and belted in.
